‘They can, Jia. Don’t you get it? We are nothing but who they say we are. They don’t hear us. They only hear their own privilege. They’ve been getting away with it for years. Look at the riots. Segregation, poverty, deprivation, no jobs, no future. Those guys had no chance, still have no chance. Add to it trying to navigate a white world with brown sensibilities and Muslim pressure – it was a melting pot for disaster. Is it any wonder the kids kicked off? And when they did, Asian kids got years more than the white kids did for the same crimes. You and I, we just ignore these things because we think we’re better, because we go to a good school and wear expensive clothes and live in a nice house. But to white people we’re all just filthy Pakis who wear bling and live in cramped terraced houses. They’ve been tormenting me for days before this. They tried to make me afraid. They…touched me.’ He stopped, watching her for some reaction. She swallowed hard, not wanting to understand. ‘They had power and I did not,’ he said. ‘Well, soon I will have power. And I will take theirs from them.’

The rage that had been simmering in the pit of Jia’s stomach dissipated. For the first time in her life she was afraid, really afraid for her brother and for her family. She placed the piece of paratha she had been about to put in her mouth back on the plate and pushed it away.

‘Don’t say that word again,’ she said.

‘What word?’

‘Paki. Don’t say it again.’

‘But I am one and so are you. And in the minds of some people, that’s all we’ll ever be.’ Zan spoke slowly, his hands perfectly still, staring into his chai. He told his younger sister everything he knew about the family business, and the fog around him began to clear. ‘I listened to the things they said about Baba,’ he said. ‘I didn’t speak. I just listened.’

The police had accused the teenager of knowing more than he claimed. They had pushed him gently, insulted him, and then they had turned nasty. ‘We’re going to have fun fucking with you on the stand,’ they had said. ‘You’re going away for a very long time.’ The lead interviewing officer had fed on the fear in Zan’s eyes, his chest becoming broader. He’d leaned back in his chair. ‘And you know what happens to pretty brown boys in prison, don’t you?’