Chapter 1

1. Emergency

Dominic looked up from the pile of exercise books on his lap and stared at the mobile phone lying on the coffee table. That was the third time in five minutes that it had started ringing; each time continuing until the voicemail message had cut in and the caller had rung off. Whoever it was must want to speak to Ibrahim very urgently. What should he do? His housemate was in his room, occupied with his Maghrib prayers. Dominic knew that they could not be interrupted, but what if the call were a matter of life and death?

He slid the books on to the sofa and leaned forward to look more closely at the phone. The display showed that the caller was Mariam, Ibrahim’s younger sister, a student in her first year of a medical degree and another of the residents of their shared house. Dominic’s heart started beating faster. Was she in some sort of trouble? He picked up the phone and swiped the screen to answer the call.

‘Hello, Mariam?’ he began. ‘Ibrahim can’t come to the phone right now, can I-’

He broke off as a woman’s voice interrupted him, ignoring his words and speaking in a breathless, high-pitched voice – anxious, frightened almost. ‘Hello? Ibrahim? It’s Olivia – Olivia Akram – one of Mariam’s friends – we met last term – I don’t know if you remember – it was-’

‘Hang on!’ Dominic cut across her, keen to correct her mistake and even more keen to know what had happened to Mariam to explain her phone being in the hands of this other girl. ‘It’s not Ibrahim. I’m Dominic – his housemate. Ibrahim’s busy praying. What’s up? Is Mariam OK? Can you tell me, and I’ll pass on the message?’

‘I – I …,’ Olivia hesitated as if unsure whether to trust this young man, whom she only vaguely remembered from a visit to Mariam’s house some two months previously.

‘Or shall I get him to ring you back when he’s finished?’ Dominic asked, fighting down his instinct to demand to be told everything – and at once!

‘I – I,’ Olivia continued to stammer. Dominic heard her swallow hard before resuming in a slightly stronger voice. ‘No. Mariam would want you to know. Please …’

Dominic, resisting the temptation to urge her to get on with it, listened as patiently as he could. After a few seconds that felt like years, she went on.

‘I don’t know if you remember me? I think we met last term when I came round for coffee with Mariam.’

Yes. I expect so,’ Dominic confirmed impatiently. ‘But you were telling me about Mariam.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Olivia hesitated again. ‘I – I … Please tell Ibrahim he needs to get down to the hospital right away. There’s been-’

‘Why? What’s happened?’ Dominic demanded, unable to maintain his fragile calm any longer. ‘Is Mariam OK?’

‘A man on a motorbike sprayed us with something,’ Olivia explained, sounding a little more composed now that she had started relating her story. ‘It mostly went on-’

‘Acid, you mean?’ Dominic interrupted again. ‘Is she badly hurt?’

‘Yes, I suppose that was what it must have been. Like I was saying, it mostly went on Salma, but some on Mariam and a bit on Emily. I called 999 and someone came and poured water on them to try to wash it off, and then the ambulance came and they used more water, and then they took them away to A and E. That’s where I am now. Mariam gave me her phone and told me to ring Ibrahim.’

‘Thanks,’ Dominic muttered, his mind racing as he imagined Mariam’s smooth brown skin being eaten away by some caustic substance. He had seen news pictures of acid attack victims and images of hideous disfigurement rose up involuntarily in his mind. ‘I’ll get Ibrahim and we’ll be down there right away.’

‘Good,’ he heard Olivia say, almost inaudibly. ‘See you soon then.’

‘Yes. Right. See you.’

Dominic put down the phone and raced upstairs to Ibrahim’s room. He could hear the rhythmic chanting of the Arabic prayers through the ill-fitting door, but he no longer cared about interrupting them. Taking hold of the handle, he flung the door wide open and strode in.

His friend was standing with his back to him. His bare feet were on the edge of a red and gold prayer mat and his short black hair was covered by a white skullcap made from intricate crochet work, something that Dominic had initially – when they all moved in together – found incongruous alongside Ibrahim’s habitual jeans-and-tee-shirt dress code. At the sound of Dominic’s entrance, his voice stumbled momentarily. Then, chanting quietly, ‘Allahu Akbar,’ he bent forward with his hands on his knees. ‘Subhana Rabbiyal Adhim. Subha-’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dominic said more loudly than he intended. ‘I know your prayers are important but this can’t wait.’

Ibrahim’s voice faltered again, but he continued to stare down at the floor in front of his feet. He drew breath to resume his prayer, but Dominic got in first.

‘It’s Mariam,’ he continued, stepping forward and putting his hand on Ibrahim’s shoulder. ‘There’s been an acid attack. She’s in A and E. We’ve got to-’

Instantly Ibrahim spun round under his hand, his mouth open in shock and dismay.

‘What happened? How is she? Why?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve told you everything. One of her friends rang your phone just now. That’s all she said – except that you needed to get over there right away.’

Ibrahim sat down on his bed and started pulling on his socks.

‘Do our parents know? Has anyone rung them?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. She just said that Mariam gave her her phone and told her to ring you.’

‘Mariam gave her her phone?’ Ibrahim repeated. ‘So she must have been conscious. I suppose that’s something … but acid! Did she say anything about how bad it was?’

‘She …,’ Dominic struggled to remember Olivia’s words. ‘She said that most of it went on another girl – Salma, I think she said.’

‘Salma Rahman, I expect,’ Ibrahim nodded, reaching for his shoes. ‘She’s another one of their little group. Who was it rang?’

‘She said her name was Olivia. She said she’d been here last term – to the house, I mean – she said she remembered me and she’d met you.’

‘Olivia Akram? Yes, I remember her.’ Ibrahim finished tying his shoelaces and stood up. ‘Right, I’d better go.’

‘I’m coming too,’ Dominic insisted firmly, leading the way downstairs. ‘I want to know how Mariam is, and … and,’ he racked his brains to think of some other reason to justify accompanying his friend to the hospital, ‘and you may have a long wait. It’ll be better if there are two of us.’

Making no attempt to argue, Ibrahim opened the front door and stepped outside. In his haste, he slipped on the steep steps and almost fell, managing to right himself just in time to avoid an undignified slide to the flagstones below. He finished the descent and turned to the right, walking rapidly down the road in the direction of the bus stop. Dominic pulled the door closed behind them and hurried after him.

***

As the bus crawled along through traffic, which seemed far heavier than normal for a Wednesday evening, Dominic remembered his first meeting with Mariam and her brother. It was January, a bright but cold day with a biting wind. He was waiting outside the Medical School for Lucy to emerge from her first day of interviews for a place to study there. His mother had insisted that their young cousin should stay with them overnight, rather than accepting the university accommodation that she had been offered, and Dominic had volunteered to meet her and take her out to dinner before escorting her to their home in the Toxteth area of the city.

As he looked down at his watch and stamped his feet to keep warm, he noticed another young man, also waiting. Judging by his brown skin, shiny black hair and dark brown eyes, his family must have originated on the Indian subcontinent. He was clean-shaven, which was becoming increasingly unusual in young Asian men these days. He was wearing jeans beneath a fur-lined parka jacket. He stood with his hands in his pockets watching the doors, clearly waiting for someone to come out.

There was a flurry of activity as a group of teenagers emerged from the building. For a few seconds, they stood huddled together looking round and murmuring to one another. Then one took the lead and they moved off together giving Dominic a clear view of the doors once more, just in time to see Lucy coming out followed closely by a young woman of South Asian appearance. Dominic was immediately struck by her glossy black hair and smooth brown skin – a complete contrast to Lucy’s golden curls and pale blue eyes. Both women had rucksacks on their backs and plastic wallets bearing the University of Liverpool crest in their hands.

‘Hi Dom!’ Lucy greeted her cousin, smiling as she caught his eye.

‘Hi Lucy,’ Dominic responded, stepping forward with his arms wide, anticipating an embrace. However, in this he was disappointed, because Lucy immediately turned to speak to the stranger who had been waiting with him.

‘Ibrahim!’ she called out warmly. ‘It’s good to see you. Let me introduce my second cousin, Dominic Fazakerley.’ She turned back to face Dominic. ‘Dom – this is Ibrahim Ali. We met him in Portugal. I think I told you about how he and his friends helped us after Jonah’s wheelchair got smashed up on the plane[1]. And this is Mariam,’ she added, waving a hand towards the young woman who was now standing beside her. ‘She’s Ibrahim’s sister. She’s applying to do Medicine too.’

‘Hello,’ Dominic responded, shaking the hands, which Ibrahim and Mariam held out towards him and trying to hide his disappointment at not having Lucy to himself. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

‘I’m staying the night at Dom’s,’ Lucy told Ibrahim. ‘I mean with his Mum and Dad,’ she added quickly, seeing a look of surprise beginning on Ibrahim’s face. ‘Dom and his brother still live at home.’ Then, for the sake of her cousin’s self-esteem, she added, ‘Setting up on your own is so expensive and Dom’s a teacher, so he isn’t earning big bucks.’

‘Tell me about it!’ Ibrahim agreed with feeling. ‘The lease is ending on my flat in a few weeks and the landlord says he’s planning to sell up. I can’t find anywhere decent that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.’

‘And my parents are expecting him to find somewhere with two bedrooms so that I can share with him,’ Mariam put in, speaking for the first time. Dominic noted that her voice was soft, but firm and that, like her brother, she had a strong East Lancashire accent.

‘Dom’s mum is hoping I’ll live with them if I get into Liverpool,’ Lucy chimed in, ‘but they don’t really have room, so I’m trying to think of excuses not to.’

‘She has agreed to let me take you out to dinner, instead of cooking,’ Dom interjected, trying to steer the conversation round to a point where he and Lucy could go off on their own.

‘Why don’t we all go for a meal together?’ Lucy suggested, smiling round at them all. ‘I’d like to catch up on Ibrahim’s news, and Mariam and I had a few things we’d like to put our heads together on before the interviews tomorrow morning.’

‘OK.’ Dominic tried to sound enthusiastic, realising that there was no point attempting to oppose Lucy’s plan. She was a very determined young woman and used to getting her own way. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘There’s a vegetarian restaurant that’s quite good, not far from here,’ Ibrahim suggested.

‘Sounds good to me – if the girls are happy with that?’ Dominic looked round at Lucy and Mariam, mentally noting that Ibrahim’s choice of eatery would avoid any difficult questions about the presence of pork or whether the slaughter methods employed for any meat content in the meal were strictly halal. His training as a Religious Studies teacher made him conscious of the problems associated with sharing meals between people from different faiths. He wondered whether Ibrahim knew that he was adopting the same approach as the prophet Daniel when in exile in Babylon.

‘Fine by me,’ Lucy nodded.

‘Lead me to it,’ Mariam agreed. ‘I’m starving!’

***

‘How exactly are you two related?’ Ibrahim asked, looking across the table at Dominic and Lucy a short while later. ‘I know you’re second cousins, but what does that actually mean?’

‘My mam and Dom’s dad are cousins,’ Lucy answered promptly.

‘My grandfather – my dad’s dad – and Lucy’s grandfather – her mum’s dad – were brothers,’ Dominic expanded.

‘The way you work it out,’ Lucy went on, ‘is, you go up the family tree until you get to a common ancestor – in this case our great grandparents – and you count the generations and then subtract one.’

‘I see.’ Ibrahim said thoughtfully. ‘But what if it’s further up to the common ancestor on one side than the other? My mum’s sister has a baby grandson, for example. What relation is he to me and Mariam?’

‘That’s where removals come in,’ Lucy explained, clearly enjoying the opportunity of showing off her knowledge. ‘You and the baby are first cousins once removed – like Dom and my mam or me and Dom’s dad.’

‘You two are lucky your family isn’t Pakistani,’ Mariam observed in the silence that followed, while Ibrahim counted generations in his head. ‘If you were, you’d be prime targets for an arranged marriage!’

‘Is that what’s going to happen to you?’ Dominic asked, so shocked by the deadpan voice in which Mariam delivered this bombshell that he spoke without thinking. ‘I mean … how do you feel about that?’

‘It’s not for me to have an opinion is it?’ Mariam replied, still speaking in a serious voice and keeping her eyes lowered. ‘We Muslim women are all brought up to be submissive, aren’t we?’

‘But that’s awf- … I mean …,’ Dominic struggled to think of a way of expressing his consternation without the risk of causing offence or appearing to criticise Mariam’s family. ‘Presumably you have some sort of say in it? After all, you’re training to be a doctor. It’s not like-’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ibrahim broke in, seeing the look of alarm on Dominic’s face. ‘She’s pulling your leg. Nobody would ever attempt to dictate to any of the women in our family!’

‘Oh Dom! You should’ve seen your face!’ Lucy joined in, laughing out loud.

Mariam looked up at last and smiled across the table at Dominic. Their eyes met and he smiled back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, going red. ‘It’s being a teacher that does it. Forced marriages is one of the things we’re trained to be on the lookout for.’

‘Alongside Muslim terrorists, I suppose,’ Mariam replied coldly, her smile vanishing. ‘Prevent[2], and all that?’

‘Well, yes,’ Dominic admitted. ‘We’ve all been briefed on ways of spotting if any of our students may be becoming radicalised.’

‘And have you had any that were?’ Lucy asked, also sounding somewhat hostile. ‘I read that there were lots of quite young kids being reported for completely spurious reasons.’

‘We’ve only had one,’ her cousin answered, sounding more confident now. ‘We found him pinning up National Action posters on notice boards all round the school.’

‘National Action?’ Lucy sounded puzzled. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a neo-Nazi group,’ Dominic explained, feeling that he was on safer ground at last. ‘It was an off-shoot of the National Front. It’s been illegal since 2016, after they publicly supported the guy who murdered Jo Cox[3]. Before that, one of the things they tried to do was to organise a march in Liverpool, but there was so much opposition from local people who didn’t want it that they had to give up. They ended up hiding in the left luggage depot at Lime Street.’

‘Liverpool has always been very tolerant of minorities,’ Ibrahim commented in an attempt to support Dominic whom he felt was coming under unfair criticism from the women of their group. ‘I haven’t had any trouble since I moved here.’

‘Would you expect trouble?’ Lucy asked, looking at him wide-eyed. ‘What sort of trouble?’

‘Nothing much,’ Ibrahim shrugged. ‘Just the usual: telling me to go back where I came from; calling me a Paki; that sort of thing.’

‘That’s racial harassment! Lucy declared. ‘Did you report it to the police?’

‘No.’ Ibrahim shrugged again. ‘What’s the point? They couldn’t do anything and it’d only mark me out as a troublemaker. Besides, it used to happen too often; you get used to it.’

‘You shouldn’t have to get used to it,’ Lucy insisted dogmatically. ‘And the police will never be able to do anything to stop it if you don’t report these things when they happen.’

‘Honestly, Lucy,’ Mariam intervened. ‘It isn’t worth it. There are some battles it’s just not worth fighting. I’m not going to let a few morons with limited vocabulary upset me by calling me names.’ She paused, and then continued in a lower voice, smiling round at the others enigmatically. ‘I’d rather keep my powder dry for more important things.’

***

Ibrahim stood up and rang the bell to stop the bus. Dominic followed him to the door as the vehicle slowed to a standstill outside the Royal Liverpool Hospital. Was it really only sixteen months since that evening when they had hatched their plan to rent a house together? Whose idea had it been? He could not now remember. The arrangement suited everyone. He escaped from living at home, sharing a room with his older brother and under constant parental scrutiny; Ibrahim got greater security of tenure and better accommodation than he could afford on his own; Mariam’s parents could sleep easy, in the knowledge that she was not alone in a strange city; and Lucy could turn down his mother’s offer of hospitality without appearing to be shunning her family.

How different everything would have been if they had never come up with their “cunning plan”! He felt as if he had known Mariam and her brother all his life. The thought that someone had deliberately attempted to injure her shook him to the core.

The two young men hurried along the pavement, past the rank of taxis waiting in the street, and into the forecourt of the hospital. They skirted round an ambulance to reach the entrance of the Accident and Emergency department. As they approached the doors, Ibrahim put up his hand and snatched the prayer cap off his head. He must have caught sight of his reflection in the glass and realised that he still had it on. He stuffed it into his pocket, striding purposefully on into the reception area. Dominic followed him.

As usual, in the evening, the place was bustling with people. Ibrahim stopped suddenly and stood staring round as if uncertain what to do next. Dominic also hesitated, looking towards the uniformed woman at the reception desk, who was currently attempting to take down details from a young couple with a baby in their arms.

‘Ibrahim?’ A young woman got up from a row of seating at the side of the room and came towards them. Her hair, shoulders and neck were covered by a royal blue hijab, pinned together on the right-hand side of her head by what looked to Dominic like a hatpin. She was wearing a blue and white dress over leggings in a colour to match her headscarf. Her deep brown eyes looked up at them anxiously.

‘Olivia?’ Ibrahim responded, turning at the sound of his name. ‘Where’s Mariam? Can we see her?’

‘They’re all being treated for acid burns.’ Another woman, coming up behind Olivia, spoke more confidently. ‘The first thing they have to do is to make sure they’ve washed it all off. Then they’ll start assessing the injuries. I’m Tahira,’ she added, holding out her hand towards Ibrahim. ‘I don’t think we’ve met before.’

‘And I’m Mariam’s brother, Ibrahim. And this is Dominic Fazakerley, who lives with us.’

Tahira turned her attention towards Dominic, who smiled nervously back, taking her hand when she offered it to him. She was shorter than Olivia, but had a good deal more presence. He felt that she would dominate any conversation and be noticed in any company. Her shiny black hair was cut short enough for him to see that she was wearing small diamond stud earrings. Her clothes were typical student garb: jeans, hooded sweatshirt and training shoes. Her hoody was emblazoned with the female symbol ♀ and some lettering, which Dominic’s background in Religious Studies told him was Arabic. However, he had no idea what it said – a quotation from the Qur’an, perhaps?

‘Have you met Hibaaq?’ Tahira half turned, gesturing towards a third woman, who had joined them and was now standing next to Olivia. Dominic’s eyes widened and he tried not to stare at this stunning apparition. She was tall – Dominic had a sensation of having to look upwards to meet her eye – and slender, but not skinny. Her deep brown eyes shone out from a dark brown face with high, prominent cheekbones. Her hair was hidden beneath a brightly patterned scarf, which hung down over her shoulders to her waist. ‘We were both inside the Guild building when it happened, but we were in time to see the attacker riding away. I didn’t get his number though,’ Tahira added regretfully.

Hibaaq smiled, first at Ibrahim and then at Dominic, but she did not speak. Dominic got the feeling that she was studying him: trying to assess who he was and why he was there. He dropped his eyes and looked towards Ibrahim. His friend was staring silently up at this African beauty, apparently transfixed.

‘Have you told your mum and dad about Mariam?’ Olivia asked, addressing Ibrahim. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I ought to ring them too, but …’

‘No,’ Ibrahim pulled his eyes away from the statuesque Hibaaq to look at Olivia again. ‘I thought of it, but then I decided it’d be better to wait until I know more about how she is. How long do you think it’ll be before we can see her? Or is there anyone I can ask?’ He looked round vaguely as if hoping that one of the uniformed staff would pause in bustling about their business and approach him with news.

‘The nurse said to wait here and they’d come and get us,’ Olivia answered uncertainly, looking towards Tahira for confirmation.

‘That’s right,’ her friend agreed. ‘She said that they’d be assessed by a doctor as soon as they were sure all the acid had been washed off, and then someone would come and tell us whether they were being admitted or if they could go home.’

‘So we just wait?’ Ibrahim asked in an incredulous tone. ‘Isn’t there anyone who can tell us more than that?’

‘I’m just telling you what they-,’ Tahira began, but she was cut short by the sound of Dominic’s phone ringing. She broke off and looked towards him. Smiling apologetically, he fished it out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. It was Lucy.

‘Hi Dom!’ Her cheerful greeting sounded out of place somehow. ‘Where are you all? I got home and the place was deserted. Mariam and I were supposed to be doing revision together. I tried ringing her, but her phone’s switched off. Do you …?’ Her voice trailed off and became more serious. Something about the silence with which Dominic had responded to her call was starting to make her feel anxious. ‘Has something happened?’ she continued in a subdued tone. ‘Where are you?’

‘I – I … Ibrahim and I are at A and E,’ her cousin answered at last. ‘Mariam’s … there’s been an acid attack. Mariam was involved. We don’t think she’s badly injured,’ he added hastily, hearing Lucy’s sudden intake of breath at the mention of acid, ‘but we won’t know for sure how she is until she’s been assessed by a doctor. We’re waiting to hear. I’ll-’

‘I’ll be right there,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘Give me a ring if there’s any news.’ She ended the call and Dominic was left staring down at a blank screen.

‘That was Lucy,’ he explained to the three women. ‘Mariam’s probably told you she lives in our house.

‘She and Dom are cousins,’ Ibrahim added.

‘I know Lucy,’ Hibaaq said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was low and melodious and her accent that of somewhere in southern England. ‘She’s doing medicine too, isn’t she? I’m in the second year. Mariam introduced us.’

They found five seats together and sat down to wait. Ibrahim looked round nervously, his eyes darting between a display screen on the wall (which showed a sequence of information videos interspersed with occasional messages for waiting patients and their families), the double doors through which staff appeared and disappeared at intervals, and the entrance where Lucy would eventually arrive.

Dominic, trying to stay calm, thought back to the day in September when the two girls had moved into their house in the Kensington area of Liverpool. Mariam had arrived first, her parents bringing her across Lancashire from Blackburn in their car. Lucy, with the longer journey from Oxford to make, did not arrive until the afternoon, giving Dominic three hours in which to get to know his new housemate before his cousin arrived and took her away to discuss pre-course reading lists and lecture timetables.

***

‘They’re here!’ Ibrahim called out.

Dominic heard the sound of the door of the next room slamming shut, followed by noisy footsteps as his friend descended the stairs. He saved the lesson plan that he was preparing on his desktop computer and got up to meet his new housemate and her parents.

Arriving in the hall, he saw that the front door was already open and Ibrahim was standing outside on the step. Dominic came up behind him and looked out. A smart four-wheel-drive car was pulled up at the kerb outside the small front garden. Through the open front passenger door, he could see a woman in a black trouser suit. Her hair, fastened in a bun at the nape of her neck, was just starting to turn from black to grey. That must be Ibrahim’s mother.

Another door opened and he recognised Mariam emerging from the back row of seats. She looked up and waved towards the two young men.

‘We made it!’ she called out. ‘Dad insisted on going down the A666, because it’s seven miles shorter than the M6, but there were sheep on the road coming over the top there, and then the traffic was horrendous when we hit the M60 round Manchester, and then-’

‘Anyway, we’re here now,’ her mother cut in, hurrying past Mariam to embrace her son.

After a quick hug, she turned her attention to Dominic, looking him in the eye and smiling approvingly.

‘And you must be Lucy’s cousin Dominic,’ she said warmly. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you – all good,’ she added hastily, seeing his look of consternation at these words. ‘Lucy tells me you teach Comparative Religion in a high school.’

‘Well, it’s called Religious Studies,’ Dominic replied, rather taken aback. ‘We try to give students a flavour of a wide range of religions, but it’s only the few who choose to do the A’ Level that really cover them in any depth.’

‘Sorry!’ Tahmina Ali smiled kindly at him. ‘I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that educating people about the differences – and similarities – between religions is a bit of a passion of mine. So much of the conflict and prejudice in society is down to ignorance.’

‘Well, I do my best,’ Dominic smiled back nervously. ‘We don’t get a lot of trouble, here on Merseyside. In fact, there’s been a real upsurge of interest in Islam since Mo Salah[4] started scoring goals for Liverpool,’ he added with sudden inspiration.

‘Where do you want these books?’

Dominic looked up to see a man in his late fifties carrying a cardboard box. He looked like an older version of Ibrahim – or was that just his own inability to notice differences between individuals from another ethnic group?

‘Oh Dad!’ Mariam protested. ‘You didn’t need to! I could’ve carried them.’ She looked towards Dominic with an expression that said, ‘Parents! They simply won’t listen to reason!’

‘Let’s all help,’ he suggested, coming down the steps and heading for the open car boot. ‘If we all carry something, it’ll be done in no time.’

Ibrahim followed his lead and, not to be seen to be giving way to male superiority in the business of carrying luggage, Mariam turned back and pulled out two large trolley cases, which she proceeded to trundle to the bottom of the steps. She carried one into the hall and turned back to retrieve the second, but her mother had been too quick for her and was already up the steps with the case in her hand.

‘I’m still waiting to be told where to take these,’ Abdul Ali complained, holding up the box of books.

‘Lucy and I are on the second floor,’ his daughter told him. ‘Just keep going on up the stairs to the top and then my room’s the one at the front of the house.’

Carrying their various burdens, they all made their way upstairs, past the first floor landing where Dominic’s and Ibrahim’s rooms were, and on up into the attic.

‘We thought Dom would keep banging his head on the ceiling if we put the lads up there,’ Mariam called out to her father, who was leading the way. ‘Mind how you go when you get in my room. The roof comes down quite low on one side.’

As Dominic had predicted, it took only a few minutes to unload the car. Then, feeling that he ought to play the host, he volunteered to make coffee while Mariam and Ibrahim showed their parents found the house. He was relieved that they appeared to like the accommodation and location and to approve of the living arrangements.

His qualms lest they suspect him of having designs on their daughter evaporated as they sat drinking coffee together in the small living room. Abdul talked about how pleased he was that Mariam would be staying with trusted friends, rather than being thrown in among strangers in a university hall of residence. Tahmina praised the homemade cinnamon cakes that Dominic’s mother had insisted on leaving with him to welcome the new arrivals, and asked for the recipe.

When coffee was over, Ibrahim suggested that his parents might like to stay for lunch. Mariam, however, eager to begin her new life of freedom as soon as possible, failed to make any encouraging noises and her mother quickly took the hint.

‘We’d better be getting back,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I’m on an early shift tomorrow and I’ve got a million and one things to do around the house before we can get to bed.’

‘Your mum’s right,’ Abdul agreed. ‘We’ll leave you to settle in. Give our regards to Lucy and her mum when they get here.’

‘I will!’ Mariam got up and went ahead to open the door for her parents. ‘Thanks for bringing me.’

***

Despite the seriousness of the present situation, Dominic could not keep himself from smiling as he remembered that day. Mariam had been so much in charge – and so determined not to allow anyone to treat her differently because of her sex – and yet she did it so quietly and unobtrusively, quite unlike the loud protestations that Lucy was in a habit of making whenever she saw something that she considered to be an injustice. They were so similar in many ways … and yet, so different.

Lucy would be vehement in her condemnation of this atrocity, demanding that the perpetrators be found and brought to justice. Mariam? She would want to know why. Why had she and her friends been targeted? What had been going through the perpetrator’s mind when he – or could it be she? – made the decision to drench three young women in a lethal fluid? And yes, she would want them to be found and held to account, but she would make her demands quietly and thoughtfully without banging her fist on the table or attempting to bang heads together.

[2] The Prevent programme is part of the UK government’s counter terrorism strategy. It places a statutory responsibility on schools and other public services to act to prevent individuals becoming radicalised.

[3] Jo Cox MP was a Labour MP. She was murdered in June 2016 by Thomas Mair, a far-right activist.

[4] Mohamed Salah Hamed Mahrous Ghaly is a professional footballer from Egypt. He joined Liverpool in 2017, soon becoming their most prolific goal-scorer. He is a devout Muslim and is known for his habit of prostrating himself in praise of Allah after scoring a goal.