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adulterers, just see if I don’t. They can’t do this to you, my beloved, and get away with it.’ Hajra held out her hand to her daughter and gratefully, Gulshan took it, at the same time handing over the reins of her ruined world to her mother. She, herself, was worth nothing. She could do nothing. She had just lost her husband to another woman.
    When Gulshan crawled out of bed, Hajra stared in surprise at her bare legs. ‘You went out … like that?’
    ‘No, Mother, my shalwar got wet as I washed my dirty foot. I couldn’t find a nala to put in the other shalwar. I don’t care! What does it matter to me whether I wear a shalwar in bed or not. Nobody is here to notice it – no husband!’ Then her body doubled over racked by a new wave of jealousy until she eventually slumped heavily on the bed again, her legs half-sprawled on the floor.
    Crying herself, Hajra pulled her up against her body, hugging her. Her daughter’s body slithered out of herarms again as Gulshan reached to bang her head against the bedpost. ‘I am stupid, Mother. Naïve! I have lost a husband. I slept in ignorance. Help me, Mother!’
    ‘Hush, hush, my darling daughter. It is going to be all right. Your mother is here to take care of you. You are
not
stupid! Come, I’ll find you another shalwar. It is cold outside on the verandah. He will not get away with what he has done to you, my daughter. I promise you that.’
    Hajra rummaged through the wardrobe in the dark and drew out a clean shalwar; she gave it to her daughter and left the room.
    With bereft eyes, Hajra looked around their courtyard. It looked so different tonight. Was it another home? Who did it belong to? She pushed aside the clothes hanging from the washing line on the verandah and stood in the middle of the courtyard, her gaze directed at the beckoning stars. Her son-in-law was still there in the middle of the night with that
manhous
woman, and those ‘wicked’ stars, up there, were still witnessing their
haram
doings. ‘Allah pak – do the stars not dim in shame and flee from above them?’ Hajra beseeched.
    Her hands balled into tight fists, she unbolted the outside door. As much as the prospect of locking him out of the house appealed to her, common sense told Hajra that she had neither the energy nor the stamina to bear his banging on the door. She couldn’t possibly risk arousing her nosy neighbours, especially not on the left side, where Kulsoom, the village matchmaker and the chief gossipmonger, lived. Kulsoom’s bedroom was right next to the wall of their front door. Her bed was literally propped neatly against their courtyard wall. Kulsoom loved sleeping against walls.Furthermore, she was also blessed with very, very sharp ears. Small though they were, they performed the task of three other hearing people. She was always seen to be cleaning out the wax from the inner lining. This was how she kept them in good working order. After all, she had to hear everything about her clients and what they said. The information had to be well categorised and neatly stored for future reference.
    Hajra left the door ajar, kicking it cynically. If thieves were to come into their home tonight, they would find very little of any value. Only two heartbroken, disillusioned wrecks of women. An older bitter mother, and a naïve heartbroken daughter. Fuming Hajra slammed the bedroom door behind her and waited for her son-in-law. The clock audibly ticked away the minutes in the darkness.

FOUR
    H IS FOOTSTEPS LIGHT and springy, Haroon hopped across the cobblestones in the village lane, neatly avoiding a small puddle of dirty water shining in the moonlight between two stones.
    He sobered as he reached the entrance to their house. With one stealthy look over his shoulders he gently pushed open the wooden door. Slowly, inch-by-inch. It was prone to make a creaking sound. When there was a gap wide enough for him to slip through, he stepped into the small courtyard. His glance first shot to