Feisal wasn’t glad to see us either. After a prolonged and obviously profane monologue in his own lanunage he threw up his hands. ‘In here,’ he snapped, opening a door. It was Granny’s parlour, elegantly fitted out with shiny upholstered furniture and a television set and a rug covered with bright red roses. Granny let out a wavering howl of protest. I couldn’t really blame her for not wanting two dusty vagabonds in her nice clean room. However, my bloody footprints blended with the red roses.

I collapsed into the nearest chair and stretched my legs. When he saw my feet, Feisal’s face changed. ‘What happened?’

‘Quite a lot has happened,’ John said.

Granny had slipped out of the room. Now she returned with her veil pinned firmly in place. She was carrying a basin of water, which she set down on the floor beside my chair. There was a dead fly floating in the basin; I pushed the body callously aside with my toes and slid my feet into the warm water. It felt wonderful. I smiled and nodded at the old lady. She ducked her head and muttered in Arabic.

‘She is begging your pardon,’ Feisal translated. ‘She thinks you hurt yourself running away from her. She says she didn’t mean to frighten you.’

I leaned over and touched Granny on her bowed shoulder. ‘Shoukran,’ I said. ‘That’s all the Arabic I know, Feisal; tell her I owe her an apology and that I’m very grateful.’

‘She’s not the only one to whom you owe an apology,’ said John, unmoved by this touching exchange. ‘If you’d stayed here as you were supposed to – ’

‘I did apologize to you. It’s your own fault. If you would stop pushing people around and take the trouble to explain why you’re doing what you’re doing, instead of being so insufferably condescending, people might – ’

‘Enough!’ Feisal exclaimed. ‘We have not the time to waste on recriminations. You promised you’d get me out of this mess, Johnny – ’

‘Johnny?’ I repeated. ‘Isn’t that sweet. How come you never let me call you Johnny?’

‘I never allow him to do it either. It’s only a crude attempt to soften me by recalling sentimental memories of our school days.’

‘Then I’ll have to go on thinking of you as my blue eyes.’

I thought he’d miss that one, but Schmidt’s tutelage had been more extensive than I had believed. Spontaneous, unguarded laughter transformed his face, and my defensive barriers developed a few more cracks. I hadn’t often seen that look.

‘I’ll never forget the pleasures we’ve both seen together,’ he assured me.

‘What in God’s name – ’ Feisal began.