Your name came up often in the course of my work. The early taboo-breaking novels were now forgotten – some of them were out of print and not available on Kindle. You were now famous for your wholesome children’s books. Her Highness, Sheikha Hadia, the CEO of our foundation, spoke of them highly. I liked Sheikha Hadia for her direct warmth and her unselfconsciousness. In her black abaya and designer sunglasses, she possessed a can-do attitude that was combined with informality. During meetings, she would fiddle with her phone, wipe her fingers with Wet Wipes or slide her feet out of her sandals and rub them against the carpet. Once I came across her in the prayer room, undistinguishable among the bowing staff and the cleaners.

An invitation was issued for you to visit the Emirate. Sheikha Hadia wanted you to visit seven schools, to whom we would distribute free copies of your books. The week it took you to reply coincided with my mother’s visit. After years of not seeing her, I strained for approval and spent considerable time, effort and expense in showing off. She had in the past openly expressed her disapproval of the core elements of my life, so I was overjoyed when Abu Dhabi appealed to her. She admired the children’s international school, she was impressed with the compound we were living in and by extension my husband and his work for providing such excellent housing. Best of all, though, was how pleasantly surprised and admiring she was of my job. ‘It took you ages,’ she said, ‘but you’ve finally made something of yourself! I had written you off.’ Such praise threaded in scorn did hurt and once or twice I hid in the bathroom and cried. But I was relieved that I had risen in her estimation and that our relationship was warmer than it had ever been. Outwardly, I handled the visit well, without a single mishap or argument. This control must have taken its toll, though, because when she left, I took the afternoon off and spent the rest of the day in bed too fatigued to even get up and cook.