Five minutes to go. There’s no point going back in the lounge, I’ll only get kept past my time. The phone rings and Alison disappears into the office to answer it. I lean against the wall and press on my thigh. It’s sore. There’ll be a big bruise tomorrow. I think about the way Dadi held my arm that day at the train station. It was only supposed to be Amina bringing me some things. I’d sworn her not to tell them where I was. I wasn’t going back to Leicester, that’s all they needed to know. I wasn’t going to be buried alive at home and then shipped off to Pakistan to marry some relative who looked like he was still living in the 1970s. I should’ve run when I saw her face pressed up against the glass. Amina was nowhere to be seen. Dadi waited for a minute after the doors opened. She just stood there in the train doorway, right on the edge holding everyone up. She was wearing her best outfit. Maroon silk. It was cool that day but she didn’t have a coat. Maybe she was waiting for me to help her. Maybe she’d never needed to get off a train on her own before. All the other passengers started pushing forward. She tutted at them and stepped down and walked over to me. She stood too close. I couldn’t look at her. She grabbed my arm and her fingers dug in.

‘We wait here for the next train,’ she said, ‘and then we go.’

I wanted to tell her the next train from that particular platform would just take us further in the wrong direction. I shook my head instead.

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Enough, Afsana. Come now and he won’t have to find out. Stay here and there’s no going back, you understand? You’ll break his heart. Is that what you want?’

‘No.’

‘Come then.’

‘I can’t.’

‘What’s this can’t? You can. You will. Show me the way.’

She started walking towards the exit, dragging me with her. She stopped in front of the flashing timetables, squinting up.

‘Which platform?’

‘Platform two, but I’m not coming.’

‘You are.’

‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

She stood in front of me then and held both my arms and shook me like I was still a child. ‘What are these tears for? Do you understand Afsana? Do you understand what you’re doing?’

‘Yes, and I’m sorry, but I still can’t come.’

She wiped her eyes. I’d never seen her cry before. I felt like I was going to be sick. People were staring at us. The mangled sound of the train announcer. The twelve forty-five to London Euston is now approaching platform three.

‘I’ll ring the police,’ she said, ‘I’ll ring them this minute.’

‘It won’t do any good.’