{"product_id":"perfectly-nice-neighbors-isbn-9780593713815","title":"Perfectly Nice Neighbors","description":"\u003cb\u003e“One of my ten best reads of the year. Easy five stars.” — Lisa Jewell, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eNone of This is True\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA twisty and consuming thriller,\u003ci\u003e Perfectly Nice Neighbors \u003c\/i\u003easks: \u003ci\u003eWhen your dream home comes with nightmare neighbors, how far will you go to keep your family safe?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Salma Khatun is hopeful about Blenheim, the suburban development into which she, her husband, and their son have just moved. The Bangladeshi family needs a fresh start, and Blenheim feels like just the place.\u003cbr\u003e    Soon after they move in, Salma spots her White neighbor, Tom Hutton, ripping out the anti-racist banner her son put in the front garden. Avoiding confrontation, Salma takes the banner inside and puts it in her window. But the next morning, she wakes up to find her window smeared with paint.\u003cbr\u003e    When she does speak to Tom, battle lines are drawn between the two families. As racial and social tensions escalate and the stakes rise, it’s clear that a reckoning is coming . . .\u003cbr\u003e    And someone is going to get hurt.\u003cb\u003eFeatured on the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e’s Paperback Row\u003cbr\u003eA September \u003ci\u003eLibraryReads \u003c\/i\u003ePick\u003cbr\u003eOne of \u003ci\u003eCountry Living\u003c\/i\u003e's 28 Best Fall Books to Put at the Top of Your Reading List\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eA Betches Best Book Of 2023 To Read If Your New Year Resolution Is Avoiding People\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne of \u003ci\u003eBookish\u003c\/i\u003e's Page-Turning Mysteries and Thrillers That Will Keep You Up All Night\u003cbr\u003eFeatured on Book Riot's Read or Dead Podcast\u003cbr\u003eA GoodReads On-Trend Mystery\/Thriller\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This twisty page-turner promises a jaw-dropping ending.”—\u003ci\u003eCountry Living\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A small act of malice between suburban neighbours snowballs, bringing tension and terror. Terrific and hugely thought-provoking.\"—Sir Ian Rankin, author of the \u003ci\u003eJohn Rebus \u003c\/i\u003eseries\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Intelligent, clever, poignant, sharp, and thought-provoking, right through to the perfect final line.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eAndrea Mara, author of \u003ci\u003eAll Her Fault\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A rollercoaster ride of a toxic tale of neighbors from hell. Brilliantly pacey and wonderfully written with a lovely big twist. Highly recommended.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eNeil Lancaster, author of \u003ci\u003eDead Man’s Grave\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“[A] fiery domestic      thriller…Abdullah provides a devastating glimpse into how people who      believe themselves reasonable can be triggered to commit shocking acts.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“[A]      commentary on keeping up appearances, rampant—and subtly disguised—racism,      and one woman’s determination to keep her family safe at any cost. The      writer proves exceptionally skilled at creating tension in every scene      with an ominous feeling just around the next page turn.”—\u003ci\u003eScary Mommy\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Regardless of what you think you're getting into with a thriller by Kia Abdullah, it will be way more in-depth, nuanced, and more importantly, shift the ground out from underneath the reader at least once...”—\u003ci\u003eBook Riot\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A stunning, thought-provoking, and morally challenging read. It had me guessing until the ingenious reveal—a world-class story.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eGraham Bartlett, author of \u003ci\u003eBad For Good\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gritty…One cannot remain passive in the face of this novel, and the ending lets no one off the hook.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Readers will have a tough time letting go of this one.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[A] perfectly structured book, with a lean cast and a fast pace…The book climaxes with a nice twist, but the ending is downright chilling.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eChick Lit Central\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An      unfortunately timely story.... \u003ci\u003ePerfectly Nice Neighbors\u003c\/i\u003e is a thriller that      feels both uncomfortable and uncomfortably necessary.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003ePaste Magazine\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Brilliant and      emotional...I never saw the twists coming...and the journal of the      protagonist was as compelling as anything I've read in the last several      years; they book is definitely worth a read if you're interested in issues      of race or in the quiet ways we undermine one another when faced with our      differences.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eManhattan Book Review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"[Kia Abdullah] explores the human condition and creates       unforgettable, multi-layered characters, with unique voices and hard       topics.\"—CrimeReads\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A      riveting and timely thriller.... [W]ill leave readers guessing right up to      the very last page.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eCriminal Element\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kia Abdullah takes current topics and writes twisty, layered thrillers around them.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eBook Riot\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eKia Abdullah\u003c\/b\u003e is a bestselling author and travel writer. Her novels include \u003ci\u003eTake It Back\u003c\/i\u003e, which was a \u003ci\u003eGuardian \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eTelegraph \u003c\/i\u003ethriller of the year; \u003ci\u003eTruth Be Told\u003c\/i\u003e, which was shortlisted for the Diverse Book Awards; and \u003ci\u003eNext of Kin\u003c\/i\u003e, which was longlisted for the CWA Gold Dagger Award and won the Adult Fiction Diverse Book Award in 2022. Abdullah has written for the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, the \u003ci\u003eGuardian\u003c\/i\u003e, the \u003ci\u003eFinancial Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Times,\u003c\/i\u003e and the BBC, and is the founder of Asian Booklist, a non-profit that advocates for diversity in publishing and helps readers discover new books by British Asian authors.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma had always sworn that she would never end up in a place like this. \"It's a bit like purgatory,\" she had joked when they first came to see the house in a harried half hour before work one morning. The estate agent, a hawkish woman with a watchful gaze, had herded them from room to room and Salma had murmured politely, even commenting on this or that \"lovely feature\" as she and Bilal locked eyes, amusement passing between them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey had agreed to view it only because there was a gap between their other bookings and the agent had pushed this property. It was in a neat cul-de-sac on the eastern reaches of the Central Line. It was built seven years ago, said the agent, and still had the bright, bland feel of a new development. There was a dizzying amount of brickwork and even its name, the mononymous \"Blenheim,\" felt like an artless attempt at class, like petrol stop perfume or \"Guccci\" shades. Upstairs, out of the agent's earshot, they had giggled about the perfect lawn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you think neighborhood watch will knock down your door if it grows above two inches?\" said Bilal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma fought a smile. \"We're being snobby,\" she said but with laughter in her voice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe agent walked in and the two of them sprang apart like children caught red-handed. She nodded at the window, her silver-brown bob swaying with the motion. \"It's lovely, isn't it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Lovely,\" Salma agreed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat was six months ago, and after close to forty viewings, they had both grown weary. Nothing else matched Blenheim for price, condition, space, and safety and so they talked each other into it. \u003ci\u003eFour double bedrooms\u003c\/i\u003e, said Bilal. \u003ci\u003eAnd it's still on the Central Line\u003c\/i\u003e, said Salma.\u003ci\u003e The neat streets and perfectly nice neighbors\u003c\/i\u003e. If they could set aside their vanity, they could be happy at Blenheim and so they had put in an offer-and here they were, their first week in their new home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey hadn't yet met their neighbors but, yesterday, a square of white card appeared on their doormat inviting them to a May Day barbecue. \u003ci\u003eNo need to RSVP. Just turn up!\u003c\/i\u003e it said in jaunty letters. Salma had read it uneasily. She wasn't an introvert by any means but did find parties tiring. She far preferred to meet new people on a one-to-one basis. Still, they were new here and had to make an effort. Salma had prepared some potato salad and told her son, Zain, that he had no choice but to join them. They approached 13 Blenheim like a trio of soldiers heading into battle. Outside, Salma paused and assessed her husband and son. As she smoothed the crooked leaf of Bilal's collar, he caught her hand and kissed it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Here goes,\" she said. She rang the bell but no one answered. Music bled from the garden and Salma counted to twenty before she rang again. Zain ventured to the side of the house and pointed at the open side gate. They walked through in single file and hovered at the edge of the gathering. There were about thirty people of varying ages, laughing and milling around. Two men were tending the barbecue, both of them wearing white polo shirts paired with khaki shorts. At first, Salma thought that they were hired staff but realized they were guests. Cheers went up around them as they dished up the first tranche of meat, filling the air with a pleasantly smoky smell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA woman spotted them and her eyes lit up. \"You must be the new arrivals!\" she called. She detached herself from the group and pulled Salma into a matronly hug. \"I'm Linda Turner, the hostess.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, hello! I'm Salma. Thank you so much for inviting us.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Bilal,\" her husband introduced himself. He saw the crease of Linda's brow and promptly added, \"Call me Bil.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe brightened. \"Bill! How wonderful to meet our new neighbors.\" She turned to Zain. \"And this must be your son. My, what a handsome boy!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eZain smiled politely. \"How do you do?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe whooped with delight. \"And such manners too!\" She saw the glass bowl in his hands. \"You didn't have to bring anything! But thank you.\" She took the bowl and ushered them into the party. \"What can I get you to drink? We have wine, beer, cider.\" She paused. \"Or we have fresh lemonade and fruit juice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil smiled. \"A lemonade would be lovely-thank you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Make that three,\" said Salma.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe beamed. \"Wonderful!\" She smoothly introduced them to their next-door neighbor. \"This is Tom Hutton. He can give you the lowdown on everyone here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTom greeted them warmly. He was in his mid-forties, muscular under a navy polo shirt, and with thick dark hair splayed beneath an orange cap. As he spoke, a young bull terrier bounded up to him. \"Her name is Lola,\" he said, bending down to pet her. He looked up at Salma. \"She was a showgirl,\" he deadpanned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma broke into laughter. Tom nodded in approval as if she had passed a test. Lola snuffed at Salma's feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You don't mind, do you?\" said Tom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No, not at all. We have a dog too, a Lab called Molly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, that's great. This is such a dog-friendly neighborhood. You're going to love it.\"\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eLinda cut in to hand out drinks. Bil volunteered to help with the barbecue and she happily whisked him away. Zain took his drink to a corner of the garden and busied himself on his phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So what do you do?\" asked Tom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'm a teacher,\" said Salma. \"Geography at a secondary school,\" she added, pre-empting his follow-up question. \"What about you?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I work in advertising. At Sartre \u0026amp; Sartre.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh wow. That must be glamorous.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It can be,\" he said with a grin, enjoying the compliment. \"And what about Bil?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma felt herself tense. \"He's a restaurateur,\" she said, despite the fact that his restaurant, Jakoni's, had shut down earlier that year.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Restaurateur?\" Tom puckered his lips in a show of approval. \"You must be doing all right then, no?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma looked bemused. \"I mean, we're doing okay.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Sorry if that's rude. I was just wondering how come you got this place then?\" He nodded in the direction of their house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma relaxed, relieved to find that he too was skeptical of Blenheim. She smiled playfully. \"It's not so bad, is it? Where else would I find such a pristine collection of lawns?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTom frowned. \"It's just that I would've thought you were above the threshold.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Threshold?\" Salma was confused.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"For social housing,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt dawned on Salma what Tom had really meant: \u003ci\u003enot you're wealthy, so why would you choose to live here\u003c\/i\u003e but \u003ci\u003eyou're wealthy, so why did you get social housing?\u003c\/i\u003e She shifted awkwardly. \"We actually bought it privately.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh!\" Tom looked mortified. \"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to assume. In fact, I \u003ci\u003ewasn't \u003c\/i\u003eassuming. I was certain that the house next to us was part of the social housing.\" He cringed visibly. \"I must have been mistaken.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma waved in a show of nonchalance. \"Ah, if only! It might have saved us a pretty penny.\" Her voice labored with the effort to put him at ease. She groped for another topic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"So where do you teach?\" asked Tom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ilford Academy in Seven Kings.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I see. Do you enjoy it?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma could feel the conversation slipping away but was keen to keep the momentum going. If they parted now, it would surely make things more awkward the next time they met. \"Yes,\" she replied. \"It's especially nice in August.\" She laughed at her joke but it came out forced and hollow. She didn't understand why she was being this way. She was normally poised and confident, well versed in small talk. She reached for a question but was interrupted by a woman who slid up next to Tom. Salma stared for a second. She was tall and willowy with white-blonde hair, delicate cheekbones, and a tiny gap between her front teeth that seemed to only add to her charm. She held out an elegant hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Willa,\" she said. \"Like the writer.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma shook it and pretended to know which writer she meant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Although pictures are more my trade,\" said Willa.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh. Are you a model?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWilla made a snap of laughter. \"You're sweet but no. I paint sometimes. Mainly, I run our home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, sorry. You look like you could be,\" said Salma. \"You must get that all the time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWilla rolled her eyes. \"Thank you, but it's fucking embarrassing. I'm like an Aryan wet dream.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma nearly spat out her lemonade. She couldn't tell if Willa was simply outspoken or if she actually rather enjoyed Salma's display of shock. She looked across at Tom, who didn't react, only slid an arm around Willa's waist. Salma cleared her throat. \"How did you two meet?\" she asked, steering them into safer territory.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I know what you're thinking,\" said Tom. \"How did a brute like me end up with a girl like her?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Tom used to be a firefighter,\" Willa cut in. \"Believe it or not, he ran into a burning building and saved me. I was twenty-one. He was twenty-seven and that was that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma looked from one to the other. \"That can't be true!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWilla gazed at Tom adoringly. \"One hundred percent.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh my god. That's incredible.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWilla burst out laughing. \"I'm just fucking with you!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma grew still. Then she smiled and pretended to be in on the joke.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\"Of course that's not what happened,\" said Willa, \"but the real story is almost as cute.\"\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eSalma waited but Willa was speaking to Tom now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you remember how you chased me for months? Sending me flowers and chocolates. God, wasn't there even that H. Samuel bracelet?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTom looked at Salma sheepishly. \"Willa's family are rich,\" he explained. \"So here I am sending her a box of Milk Tray and a five-quid bunch of flowers while she's used to\"-he looked over at her-\"what's that poncey brand you like?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Charbonnel et Walker,\" she said smoothly. \"He wasn't a firefighter but\"-she winked at Salma-\"he did let me ride his pole.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma chuckled politely. She, like most people, did a subconscious thing when she met someone new. She assessed whether they were part of her \"tribe.\" Tom and Willa with their strange, abrasive humor were far too different from her. Normally, Salma wouldn't mind and would simply get on with her day, but this was a new neighborhood and she had to make an effort. \"You mentioned that you run the home,\" she said to Willa. \"Do you have kids?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes. A son, Jamie. He's sixteen.\" She must have caught Salma's surprise because she added, \"I had him young, at twenty-two.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma calculated that Willa was thirty-eight, five years younger than she was. \"That works out well for me,\" she said. \"My son, Zain, is eighteen and I'm sure he'd love to meet Jamie.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That would be lovely,\" said Willa. \"Jamie needs to make a few friends.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey talked until a natural lull allowed them to part ways. Salma circulated and scanned the crowd for Bil. She saw that he was cornered by Linda and excused herself to join them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What is that delicious nutty flavor in the potato salad?\" Linda was asking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Fried pine nuts,\" said Salma.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ah, well, thank you for indulging us. For reference, I can handle my spice, so if you ever want to bring something with a bit more zing, you'd be more than welcome to.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma smiled. \"Of course. I'll bear that in mind.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLinda clapped her hands twice, like an excited child. \"I look forward to it.\" She glanced over Salma's shoulder. \"Well, I should mingle. Please help yourself to the food and drink. There's so much to get through.\" She beamed and then left in a cloud of activity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil looked at Salma. \"How long do you reckon before we can leave?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Stop it,\" she chided. \"We have to make an effort.\" She fixed on a fresh smile and led him back into the fray.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e***\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma felt herself uncoil, the tension leaving her muscles as soon as they left the barbecue. Blenheim looked uncanny without any streetlamps. The council insisted that lights would spoil the character of the local area, leaving it eerily dark. Bil caught her hand in his and they headed home in silence, needing total privacy before they could fully relax. Zain walked on ahead and left their front door open for them. Salma crossed the blue-black lawn, which was still a consistent one-inch tall. Their neighbor Tom had mowed it while the house was being sold. Salma kicked a few pebbles back onto the path and retrieved from the ground a palm-size banner from the ground that Zain had stuck in a plant pot. She dug it back in place and followed Bil inside. She closed the door and sagged against it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil laughed. \"You okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Do you think I should take Linda some \u003ci\u003enaga \u003c\/i\u003enext time?\" she asked archly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Well, she \u003ci\u003edid \u003c\/i\u003esay she can handle her spice.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma covered her face and groaned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It's okay,\" said Bil more seriously. \"It was just a lot in one go.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe nodded vigorously but didn't uncover her face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil pulled at her wrist playfully. \"Come on, it wasn't that bad.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe looked at him. \"Bil, did you hear what they call people who haven't lived here from the beginning? 'Offcomers.' Not newcomers. Offcomers. It sounds like a bloody horror movie.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA smile tugged at his lips. \"They were being tongue in cheek.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And that guy-Tom.\" She gestured next door. \"God, it was so awkward.\" She explained how Tom had assumed that they were in social housing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil winced with sympathy. \"Stuff like that's going to happen,\" he said. \"But they'll get to know us soon enough.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh!\" Salma cut in. \"And you should have heard his wife!\" She relayed some of Willa's choice remarks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBil laughed. \"She was probably just trying to impress you. People can be like that at parties.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSalma raised a brow but didn't disagree. She was more cynical than Bil and though they shared a sense of humor-dry and sarcastic-his natural temperament was optimistic and she didn't want to spoil their evening. Salma had tried hard to stay upbeat ever since Jakoni's shut down in January following a horrendous year for the industry. It was her job to keep Bil's spirits high, just as he always did with hers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You're right,\" she said as she fit herself against his chest. \"They'll get to know us soon.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe rubbed the small of her back. \"You okay?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe nodded.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You don't think we've made a mistake?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was the tiniest pause before she answered, \"No, I don't. I think we can be happy here.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I think so too,\" said Bil.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She tipped back her head and kissed him. \"Right. I’m going to take a shower.\" She detached herself and headed upstairs. She paused briefly on the landing to listen to the click of Zain’s keyboard in the attic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the bathroom, she peeled off her clothes, which smelled of smoky meat, and tossed them in the laundry bin. In the shower, she realized that she could hear voices on the other side: the deep murmur of Tom’s voice and the lighter pitch of Willa’s. She pressed her ear to the wall, but couldn’t make out any words. She listened to see if their conversation had the tightness of an argument or the lightness of a joke. Were they discussing her family, just as she had discussed theirs?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Tom’s words returned to her and she flushed with embarrassment. \u003ci\u003eI would’ve thought you were above the threshold. \u003c\/i\u003eDespite what she had just told Bil, she \u003ci\u003edid\u003c\/i\u003e worry that they had made a mistake. If they had known that they would lose the restaurant, they would almost certainly have stayed in Seven Kings, on their estate off the high street. By the time the restaurant closed, however, they had already started the process of buying their house in Blenheim and convinced themselves to take the leap. Five months later, they still hadn’t sold the restaurant premises and things were getting tight. The thought brought a familiar unease and Salma had to remind herself that they barely had a choice. Not after what happened with Zain. This was the safest place that they could afford and they would make the most of it. It was true that she missed her old neighborhood – the big, messy families and rows of crowded houses, the comfort of being among other Bangladeshis – but Zain had room to breathe here: a large bedroom, his own bathroom, a balcony and a garden too. There would be a period of adjustment of course, but they were sure to fit in before long. They had to. 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