She stood and peered through the glass partition to the ante-space. The nurse was seated in front of the computer, the small ward beyond as silent as the night except for the occasional siren from the streets below. No signs of consciousness in her father – she must stop looking for them.

She sat down again beside Patrick, moving both her hands around one of her father’s. ‘And yet,’ she said, ‘unforgettable, appalling, catastrophic, tragic, out of the blue – whatever you might want to call it – Kareem didn’t even phone or text me. Nothing. Even after what he’d said on the Wheel. I thought he might feel ashamed, want to apologise without delay.’

‘Perhaps, for once in his life, he was too embarrassed,’ said Patrick.

‘I don’t think so. I can imagine him sitting on his own, watching it all unfold. But I still can’t fully imagine what was going on in his mind.’

She took a book out of her bag. ‘That night of 9/11 I stood on a chair in my room to fetch my copy of the Qur’an from a top shelf. It had been gathering dust for years.’ She laid it on the bed and opened it at a marker. ‘This was the page it fell open at. Must have been the last time I’d read it. Chapter 33, Verse 35. I’ve no idea what girlish thoughts I’d been having. Read it.’ She paused. ‘Read it to me aloud.’

Patrick gingerly took the book. ‘“For Muslim men and women, for believing men and women, for true men and women, for men and women who are patient and for men and women who guard their chastity, and for men and women who engage much in Allah’s praise, for them has Allah prepared forgiveness and great reward.”’

‘I hadn’t guarded my chastity, had I? But what seemed a miracle happened – my period came. I thought pregnancy would be my punishment. When it wasn’t, something changed. The fear went. I knew where I stood. I thought hard. I decided to see him one last time.’

Chapter 23

23

The red Mazda sports car, hood down, drew up; she glanced around and got in.

‘Where would you like me to drive you?’ he asked, as courteously as when he’d first exchanged words with her.

‘Let’s go back to white yummy-mummy land.’ Her tone was even; she determined to keep it that way.

They drove in silence, he glaring at the road and tut-tutting at straying pedestrians while she stared ahead.

‘Do you wish to walk?’ he asked, parking neatly and switching off the engine.

‘No, we’ll talk here.’ She whipped round. ‘I expected to hear from you after what happened on Tuesday. I don’t know what. Even a word of comfort.’

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel; she waited. ‘I did not see it as entirely necessary. Further, I would not have known what words to say.’