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a ferocity that she had almost forgotten. She stood still for a moment on top of the mobile stairway before turning quickly to Hussein. He smiled at her, nodding at the same time towards a small group of people gathered on the sizzling tarmac. “They are here to meet me. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
    She was nervous. She ran her fingers through her hair to bring some order to the strands that flew across her face. “Are you sure it will be alright for you to introduce me to your parents without notice? I must look terrible. I feel so grubby after 16 hours on the plane,” she said. Her eyes pleaded with him. Hours of crying on the plane and sleeplessness had left them red and swollen. “Can’t we wait? I can make my way like the rest of the passengers to the airport terminal and meet you later.”
    “Nonsense! You look fine. They will be delighted when I introduce you to them. Come!” He felt his smile tighten. Jenny’s words of warning flashed through his mind.
    They made their way down the stairway and walked towards the group of brightly clad men and women gathered on the red carpet. Their garments of exotic silks, colourful batiks and silver woven sarongs competed in the blazing sunlight. Hussein strode quickly forward to embrace a plump middle-aged woman dressed in a purple silk
baju kurong
, a sarong and sheath top that reached below the knee, and nearly knocked away the matching umbrella that a turbaned guard was holding to protect her from the sun.
    “
Emak-mak!
Mother!” Hussein said lapsing into his childhood endearment for his mother. He bowed low before embracing her, gathering her into his arms in a tight bear hug.
    “
Adoi! Jaga!
Careful!
Anak saya!
My child! It is so lovely to have you back! How are you? Come! Come! Let’s get out of the sun. The car is waiting. Your cousins are here.”
    Faridah looked at her son, her face flushed with pride. “Also I would like, in particular, for you to meet Shalimar,
Tengku
Shalimar, to be precise. You’ve not seen her since she was twelve.”
    She rushed on oblivious to Hussein’s discomfort and sidelong glances at the Chinese girl who was standing just behind him.
    “Don’t you think that she has grown up to be a beautiful young woman?” she chuckled, pointing to a young girl standing near them. “We’ll sit at the back of the Mercedes and the rest can use the other cars.” Faridah beamed, her hands waving expansively, flashing the diamonds and sapphires on her wrists and fingers. “Your father is waiting.
Mari!
Come! Come with us Shalimar.”
    “Wait mother. I’d like to introduce An Mei. We were at Oxford together.”
    Awkwardly, An Mei stepped forward. She did not know what to say. Should she shake her hand? She had totally forgotten to ask Hussein how she should address his mother. All she could think of during the plane journey was her parents’ pain, her guilt at the way she had left, and her own heartache. She knew vaguely that there were complex titles and customs to observe when greeting someone of importance in Malay society. So An Mei stood silent, head bowed, her dress crumpled, her hair wind-blown and her face tear-stained, wishing with all her heart that she had followed her instincts and gone with the other passengers to the air terminal.
    Faridah took one glance at An Mei and her face fell. Her eyes narrowed to bullet points. “
Siapa ini?
Who is this?” she snapped, wondering what her son could see in this chit of a girl! She glared at An Mei; then her eyes swept away almost instantaneously without acknowledging her presence. “Come, let’s go,” she said to Hussein, her voice cutting. “If she is coming with us, she can go in one of the other cars.”
    An Mei turned and made a dash for the terminal. Hussein ran after her. “Wait, wait! Come back!” He ran until he overtook her and ignoring the gasps and titters from the people gathered on the red carpet, he took hold of An Mei’s hands and marched her firmly back to