‘You did?’ Surprise and disbelief permeated the two words.
‘Of course. Don’t you think I loved you? Your father called in the lawyers, made all kinds of threats.’
‘He said, once, that you did not want us once we were born, that you rejected us.’
‘He would, wouldn’t he? Postnatal depression, Hassan. Look it up in any medical book I had it. Boy oh boy, did I have it. Hardly surprising given that I was thousands of miles from home, imprisoned by a domineering husband and stuck in a stone house in one hundred and five degree heat!’
He shrugged.
‘I got over it, Hassan, and learned to love you both, but I still couldn’t change my world, my circum stances, for the better. Also, by then that bloody Aisha was virtually caring for you and Iqbal twenty-four hours a day. She hated me, and I her
