Gehna shrugged. ‘No clue. I did tell him about tonight. I guess he’s, like, busy or something? I don’t know.’

The food started arriving at the table in courses, served by an older man who too was dressed as a spa therapist. Eram figured it must be a uniform of some sort. He was astonished that there were people outside of the movies who lived like this. It wasn’t just that the Rais were as rich as rock stars, though there was that too; it was that this lifestyle was important to them. It mattered to them that they had an abundance of domestic help, all of whom were trained and well groomed. Food was not simply fuel to be eaten on the fly after being blitzed in the microwave for a few seconds. It had to be served at the right time, at the right temperature and in impeccable crockery. Clothes were about more than just comfort, cars were more than a means of transport, wine was more than a bottle of expensive grape juice. Everything they owned was to be savoured, not simply used.

Even the music was classy. ‘Brahms,’ Eram muttered around a mouthful of pork chop.

‘Did you say something?’ Nina Rai asked him. Her voice was wintry cold. Eram tried to think if he’d said or done anything to piss her off in the ten minutes since they’d met, but he drew a blank. Maybe it’s not me she hates? Maybe she just hates all people. One reads of such cases in the medical journals under the general heading ‘Totally Mental’.

‘The music. It’s great.’

‘Sure it is,’ Gehna quipped. ‘If you’re recently deceased. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . .”’

Her mother stopped her with a biblical scowl and turned to Eram. ‘So. Eram. Tell me, what kind of name is that, is it Muslim?’

And there it was. The reason Nina Rai was cold towards him. From across the table, Gehna grimaced horribly and mimed an act of murder. Eram managed, somehow, to keep a straight face.

‘Yes, ma’am. It’s Arabic. I think it means, like, to be fair or just. My mother chose it. Or at least, that’s what my dad tells me.’

‘Mm. I suppose it was careless of me, but this is pork we’re having. I’m so sorry.’

She doesn’t sound very sorry, thought Eram. ‘That’s okay. I’m not that observant, and I hope God has more important things to do than watch me eat.’

Nina Rai put a hand to her chest and gave a little laugh. ‘Well, I think I speak for all of humanity when I say that that is a relief.’ As she spoke, she inspected the individual glass goblets of trifle pudding that had just been brought in on a tray. ‘The fewer the Muslims who believe in the whole Allah thing, the safer the rest of the world will feel.’

Ajay Rai spoke for the first time. ‘Nina, come on, you know the rules. No politics or religion at the dining—’