SUNDAY MID-DAY – TARIQ RAFIQIt's quiet in the house, apart from the faint sound of Khalid playing on the X-Box in his room. Dad and Uncle Jameel have gone out in the car. My guess is that they want to talk about things without Aunt Farida overhearing.
The atmosphere is really strange, like somebody has died, except there's no corpse. Auntie is carrying on as usual, chopping vegetables in the kitchen and listening to an Asian radio show, but she hasn't said a word since breakfast.
Dad told me that things will be sorted in a few days. He's going to see if we can find early flights home, but first he might have to go to Paris with Uncle Jameel. Uzma has got a lot to answer for.
I ease myself off the bed and pull on a sweatshirt. It's so cold over here and it's not even winter yet. The cent
