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– just to have a door slammed in her face!’
    Ignoring his father’s stony face, Arslan entered his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
    Gulbahar nervously exchanged a look with her husband, feeling her chest tighten. Two shocks in one day – first the girl, then her mother. Begum, ever watchful and protective of her mistress’s welfare, dragged a chair from under the veranda. Gulbahar collapsed into it, only to be threatened by the stiff looming shadow of her husband.
    ‘What sort of children did you raise, Gulbahar?’ he accused.
    ‘Beautiful children, Haider,’ she valiantly shot back, hysterical laughter rumbling through her body.
    Ruefully shaking his head at his wife’s words, Haider strode into the dining room and bid his male guests to eat and make themselves fully at home while Arslan rested.
    *
    In the dimly lit bedroom, Laila stared down at the crushed rosebuds in the fold of her
chador
, strangling a scream ripping through her throat. Shirin dropped her skipping rope and came running to see what was wrong with her mother.
    ‘Are you crying again, Mummy?’ she demanded, her young mind trying to judge whether her mother was upset.
    ‘No! Stop badgering me, Shirin. Go and play outside!’ Laila shouted, looking away.
    Shirin did not obey; instead she watched her mother empty the crushed rosebuds into a small china dish on the dressing table and cover it with a crocheted-edged muslin cloth.
    *
    After serving the guests, Begum had sneaked home and was fast at work in her living room. The thick darning needle threaded with wool swung in and out of the remains of seven rosebud stems she had scooped from outside the
hevali
gates, her anxious eyes often straying to the wall clock. Mistress Gulbahar’s two sisters, Mehreen and Rani, had probably arrived by now. Job done, Begum hid the garland beneath her
chador
and hastened back to work.
    Sneaking in through the servants’ entrance, Begum was crossing the central courtyard when Mistress Gulbahar caught her.
    ‘Begum, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, even in the paddock!’
    Sheepishly Begum pulled up her
chador
to show the garland. Her eyes widening, Gulbahar was about to reprimand her and then stopped short when she heard her husband’s footsteps behind her. Meanwhile, Begum slipped into the young master’s room.
    The air conditioner noisily purring away sent jets of cool air swishing across the high ceiling of the whitewashed room. Master Arslan was wide awake, struggling with the reality of straddling two worlds. A lost traveller wedged between two lands – that of his homeland and America, yet belonging to neither; unable to come to terms with his parents’ world and running away from the other that had become increasingly hostile to him since the awful events of 9/11.
    ‘Master Arslan!’ Begum stood beside the bed, lovingly gazing down at the young man she had looked after for many years. Arslan sat up, attempting to smile. ‘Master Arslan,’ Begum’s secretive voice wooed, lifting her
chador
to show the remains of Laila’s garland.
    ‘Begum …’ Eyes softening, Arslan was humbled by Begum’s loving endeavour.
    ‘See! Threaded it for you, my prince.’
    Arslan stared at the clumsily threaded rosebuds, closing his eyes to smell the crushed petals.
    ‘How could I let her garland, threaded by her beautiful loving fingers go to waste? I scooped every single petal into my
chador
! You know I love you both – I’d do anything for you two!’
    ‘I know Begum!’ Arslan slipped off the bed to place the garland around his neck. ‘Thank you!’
    Begum preened, advising, ‘Wear it with pride, my little prince!’
    ‘I will. No matter what the rest of this household thinks … or says!’
    Begum followed him out of the room, keeping her triumphant eyes lowered. She was a traitor once again, but a happy and unrepentant one this time!
    Haider, who was having his overcoat brushed down by Ali, stiffened when his son stepped out of