It is nice of her to say ‘our’ to include herself in my disgrace. But it could also be a ploy to soften me. I know her tricks. She goes on, with confidence, ‘Remember Hisham, the son of Dr Suad? You must remember him from that time we met up in Alexandria. How old were you then? Thirteen or fourteen? I gave him your number. He is only in London for a few days. You must meet up.’

I flick back two decades to a snapshot of Hisham, skinny in a navy swimsuit and poking at a patch of seaweed. He is saying, ‘It’s edible! It’s edible!’ No one else shares his excitement. At the age of fourteen, I already knew about crushes, I knew who I fancied and who I didn’t. At the age of fourteen, I assessed Hisham and concluded that he was not my type.

‘I’m busy,’ I say to my mother.

‘You are thirty-four.’

‘Thirty-three.’ My birthday is in November.

Her mood changes, ‘In a few years’ time, the situation will no longer be a joke.’

I have heard this lecture time and time again. Years flying, fertility falling; how I’m becoming more and more set in my ways, how no man is perfect. ‘So what is the catch with this one?’ I ask. These suitors always have a defect. The first one she sent was too short; the second only spoke to say that he hated London and the third should have been right – three is a good number, after all – but he confessed that his family had put pressure on him to meet me while he was actually in love with another girl, unsuitable no doubt. The fourth was too religious.

‘You,’ my mother sighs. ‘You are the only obstacle.’

He phones me as I step into Hyde Park. Before I break into my after-work jog and start to breathe heavily. It’s sunny today. Girls stretch out on the grass, their lipstick melting in the sun. I stride past ghetto blasters and smelly dogs, tepid ice cream handed down to children. Hisham tells me he’s staying in a hotel in Bayswater. He’s left the NGO with which he’d spent eighteen months in Darfur. In a few days’ time, he will take the train to Edinburgh to visit his brother who is studying there.

‘I’m giving private Arabic lessons in the evenings,’ I say. ‘It’s amazing how many people now want to learn. And they’re willing to pay well for it!’