‘Frantic? I’m the one who’s frantic. Worrying myself to a frenzy about your brother while you’re doing God knows what. What you dressed up for?’

Sam had on a suit and tie from another of the Party’s endless policy reviews. They always placed him somewhere prominent for the cameras but seldom asked for a contribution.

‘It’s just a suit for work.’

The truth was, he felt guilty for not keeping her informed, but explaining Karza’s situation was out of the question. She would just blame him, then hassle him even more for news.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t any concrete news. I’m making enquiries but as you can imagine it’s very tricky, very delicate, okay?’

‘And with your fancy new job you don’t have time for your brother, while here am I crying not sleeping. That’s right, isn’t it, Jimmy?’

Sam heard a non-committal grunt from Jimmy somewhere in the room. ‘Of course I do. I’ve had a meeting with the people who sent him to Syria.’

‘Oh, a meeting, very good. And do they know, your government employers, that you have a brother in Syria? I bet you’ve hidden that from them. Pretending he doesn’t exist, like you always did.’

There was another off-screen mumble from Jimmy.

‘Jimmy says I’m too hard on you. He’s probably right. It’s my grief, my grief for my Karza. No one else.’

She broke down into floods of tears. Jimmy appeared from behind and put an arm round her, nodding at the camera and giving a half-hearted little wave. At least Sam didn’t have to put up with this every day, like he did. The man’s patience was something to behold.

‘Look, Mum, the good news is he’s alive.’

At this she shrieked and pushed the long-suffering Jimmy away. ‘Who said he wasn’t? I never doubted he was alive. That’s why you must help him. Tell your bosses you have to go and help your brother or I will ring them up and tell them and tell the papers. They have people right here in Spain, the tabloids do.’

‘For God’s sake, have you any idea what that would do? It would hurt him, not me. Just think!’

Sam cancelled the call and his mother’s face disappeared from the screen. But there were no tears of desperation this time or any self-pity. Instead he felt a cold, dark, vengeful rage. ‘Fuck them all.’

Only then did he become aware that Nasima had slipped into the room and was watching him. During the past twenty-four hours she had been cool and distant. He had tried to phone her from work but the line seemed to be dead. When she finally called back it was from another phone.