‘They would slice the man open,’ she’d reminded Jia, ‘and then push grass and thorns into his wounds. And they were no kinder to their own men, punishing a cheating husband by forcing thick and thorned twigs down his penis. Why do you think our father never strayed? Sometimes they would just tear a man’s tongue out by the roots after gang-raping him. I’m not trying to say we are barbarians; the British were no better. They flayed and filleted our people. But war for us is an honourable pursuit. We nurture it within us, and each generation proves its worth through it. And, of course, our wars are ruthless. No mercy is shown and none is expected. We don’t take prisoners. If this man Nowak was to be captured by the Jirga, he could expect not only to be killed, but to be carved up and quartered before having his cock cut off and stuffed in his mouth for good measure.’

Jia didn’t know if it was Maria Khan’s stories or her support that had strengthened her. But she’d left for the meeting filled with a confidence that made her care little about proving her worth to Andrzej Nowak.

Now, though, with her brother safely in the back of the car, Jia couldn’t resist, the way a cat can’t resist a mouse. Drawing herself up, she turned and looked at Nowak, her eyes as cold and steeled as his, and she said to him, ‘Have you heard of execution by golden shower?’ He flinched, and she pounced. ‘It was carried out by Pathan women on prisoners of war. I hadn’t thought about it until this morning when my people reminded me. But there’s no need for you to worry. These are civilised times, and as you mentioned earlier, in today’s world our women are controlled by men – and by that token I have no power and can do nothing other than take my brother and leave. If, however, by some chance I did have power and the might of my people behind me, you should know that you have shown my brother more mercy than I would show you. There is also the matter of my father’s death.’

Nowak was suddenly unsure of his course of action. Something in Jia’s voice unnerved him. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with your father’s death,’ he began, but he stopped himself. He knew she wasn’t interested in his denial.