Her brother’s flat was in a newly built area, a little deserted, out of the way. One of her cousins had picked him up from the hotel and now they both shuffled up the stairs. The staircase was in sand, not yet laid out in tiles or concrete; there was a sharp smell of paint and bareness. The flat itself was neat and simple, a few potted plants, a large photograph of the Ka’ba. The men; her brother, father, various relations and neighbours whom he recognised from the days in the mourning tent, occupied the front room, the one near the door. The women were at the back of the flat. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t see her.

Shaking hands, the hum of a general conversation in another language. The imam wore a white jellabiya, a brown cloak, a large turban. He led them for the Maghrib prayer and after that the ceremony began. Only it was not much of a ceremony, but a signing of a contract between the groom and the bride’s father. The imam pushed away the dish of dates that was on the coffee table and started to fill out a form. The date in the western calendar, the date in the Islamic calendar. The amount of dowry (the original figure she had named and not the additional dollars her brother had taken on the street corner). The name of the bride. The name of her father who was representing her. The name of the groom who was representing himself.

But that is not a Muslim name. The imam put the pen down, sat back in his chair.

Show him your certificate from the mosque in Edinburgh, urged her brother, the one you showed me when you first arrived.

I can’t, he said, it was stolen or it fell out when the things in my bag were stolen.

No matter, the brother sighed and turned to speak to the imam. He’s a Muslim for sure. He prayed with us. Didn’t you see him praying just now behind you?

Did they tell you I have eyes at the back of my head? Laughter … that didn’t last long.

Come on sheikh, one of the guests said, we’re all gathered here for this marriage to take place inshallah. We’ve all seen this foreigner praying, not just now but also on the days of the funeral. Let’s not start to make problems.

Look, he will recite for you the Fatiha, the brother said, won’t you? He put his hand on his shoulder as a way of encouragement. Come on sheikh, another guest said, these people aren’t even celebrating or having a party. They’re in difficult circumstances, don’t make things more difficult. The bride’s brother said he saw an official certificate, that should be enough.

Inshallah there won’t be any difficulties, someone ventured. Let him recite, the imam said, looking away.