He stopped, shock spreading across his face. He had expected her to argue, not accept his accusations. He had wanted to hate her so much but she hadn’t let him. He had wanted her to say so much more but she wasn’t prepared to. And now he was exhausted and he didn’t have any fight left in him to make her see what she had done.

‘Get in the car, kid,’ she said, her tone cool. ‘Just get in the car and I’ll drive you home. You were caught trying to deal class A drugs, remember that? I’m the one who’s pulled strings and got the charges dropped, so unless you want to spend the next few years in a juvenile detention centre, I suggest you get in the car.’ She pointed towards an Aston Martin DB9.

He looked over at it, and found it hard not to be impressed. It was a beautiful car.

‘You want to try it out?’ she said.

‘What? Really?’

‘Yes, just wipe your nose before you get in. I don’t want your tears and snot all over the interior.’

He did as he was told, all his anger gone in an instant. How had she done that without giving him any answers? He walked to the driver’s side and tried the door.

‘Other side,’ she said. ‘One arrest in twenty-four hours is enough. There’s plenty of private road at Pukhtun House. You can try her out there.’

Ahad stared out of the window for most of the journey; his head hurt from the events and the sound of his own voice.

‘Elyas told me you were a good kid,’ Jia said.

‘I am a good kid.’

‘I think the police would disagree.’

‘What about you?’

She smiled at him, and for the first time in a long time it felt like genuine emotion. ‘No. I don’t think you’re bad. You’re my son after all.’ She had never spoken those words before and something inside him warmed. ‘Sometimes, the best people we know do the worst things just to keep the good people safe. Like my father. And maybe like your mother.’

They reached the gates to the house, swapping seats once safely inside. Ahad clicked the belt buckle into place and put his hands on the wheel, wrapping his fingers around it. He started the engine, pushed his foot on the clutch to move the gearstick but lifted it off too fast: the machine jolted forward and stalled. He tried again and again with the same result. Jia waited patiently, her face stoic, letting him try and fail and try again. She hadn’t been there when he’d learnt to walk, but she was here as he learnt to drive and she planned to stay.