She walked back to Reem and Khalid feeling refreshed. The English couple were Londoners like her; she could speak their language and warm to their moods. But she was not a tourist and for her Egypt could never be a holiday destination like Jordan or Greece. Desert, pyramids and Sphinx were embedded in her DNA. They were her heritage whether she wanted it or not. In a few weeks’ time she would go back to school and this time she would have something to say about what she did on her holidays. She would not be ashamed like every year before.

In this particular summer, though, Lateefa was quick to complain. Watching Nadia get dressed to go out to dinner, she said, ‘Don’t you think you’re spending too much time with Khalid and Reem?’

‘They’ve asked me to go along.’

‘They’re just being bolite.’

‘No. Reem is not like that. She would be honest with me. If she wanted to be alone with Khalid she would tell me so.’ But Nadia remembered a previous summer’s conversation with her mother, when she had asked, ‘Why do people in Egypt lie all the time? When Tante Salwa has visitors why does she always tell them to stay longer when they get up to leave? She goes on and on and she doesn’t mean it, she wants them to go and she’s relieved when they go.’

‘It’s bolite,’ Lateefa had answered, ‘and the visitors know that and they leave just the same.’ This was Egyptian etiquette; these were the Egyptian complexities Nadia would never appreciate.

Now, she slipped her shoes on and refused to meet her mother’s eyes. ‘I want to go out with them. Today we’re going to TGI Fridays and it’s on a boat on the Nile!’

‘Make sure you pay for your own meal,’ grumbled Lateefa. ‘I don’t want you to be unwanted and I certainly don’t want you taking favours. I’d rather you didn’t go at all.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Nadia’s voice rose. ‘You are so annoying. You drag me here every summer against my will and when I finally start to enjoy myself you want to spoil everything!’

Later that evening, in order to make amends, Nadia joined her mother in front of the television. She asked her about the film, knowing that watching Arabic films together, while Lateefa translated, was a pastime her mother enjoyed. ‘It’s not really one of the best,’ Lateefa now said. ‘But it is bringing back memories. Your father and I watched it at the Cinema Normandy when we were engaged. Khalid came with us as a chaperone.’ She laughed. ‘He was seven years old. And every time we went out we had to take him with us! Your father struggled to amuse him and keep him occupied so that we could be together longer.’