Walking down the corridor and into the lounge it’s like leaving a sacred space. Putting your shoes back on and stepping out of a mosque and back into the real world. A wall of demands. The noise. The music. Everybody wants something. I think about Dadi. I wonder whether Amina’s still at home ladling out her endless cups of chai. Doubtful. She wanted to go to university. She wanted to go to Birmingham and study Law. Now I think about it, it was never Baba who showed us the photographs and letters from Pakistan. It was Mum. She didn’t understand Urdu so she must’ve got Baba to read them to her late at night after work. She showed us the pages and told us second-hand news about the farm and the never-ending supply of cousins. Always getting married. Dropping like flies. She wanted us to know about them. She wanted us to feel part of a bigger family. There was a photograph she’d framed before we were born. It was her favourite. Baba on the day before he flew to England. I can still see it. He’s standing in a field wearing a white kurta. His face is smooth and he’s shading his eyes from the sun. Dadi stands next to him with her head down, her hair parted in exactly the same place although most of it’s hidden underneath a patterned dupatta. The image is black and white but you can tell it’s hot. The sky is different. The light.

‘She sent him here,’ Mum said touching Baba’s face with her index finger, ‘to keep him safe from all the fighting.’

‘Ow! Watch it, Sana.’

I collide with Alison as she comes round the corner.

‘Sorry. I was somewhere else.’

She stops and rubs her shoulder.

‘Away with the fairies as usual. How’s the new arrival?’

She doesn’t wait for an answer. She’s holding a pile of paperwork. Always in the middle of something. Never still for more than a few seconds.

‘This is for you.’

She hands me a fat brown envelope.

‘What is it?’

‘An NVQ information pack.’

‘Alison… I told you. I’m not –’

‘Just do it, Sana. You’re a natural, I’m telling you. A bit of paperwork, a couple of essays, and the world’s your lobster. Well, not exactly the world, but you know what I mean. It’s a start. It’s more money. What’s to think about?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Just take it ok? Fill in the application. You can thank me later.’

I take it. The flap of the envelope is ripped where it’s been opened. There are bits of fluff all along the sticky strip. She smiles at me. She has no idea. I feel sick suddenly. I can’t focus. Everything’s blurred. Rushing towards me.

‘Are you alright?’

I put a hand out to steady myself.

‘Sana?’