She struggled to free herself. “Let me go, Willem. Are you crazy?” Bea finally managed to wrench her arm from his grasp and turned to glare furiously at him. “You have no right to harass me like this. Now go away before I call the Police.” Her voice rose in indignation, ringing above the footsteps of the departing office workers. A few stopped to look, pausing in their departure from the building to assess whether they should intervene whilst others gave them a wide berth, not wanting to be involved.

Hassan dropped his hand, wary of attracting too much attention, but stood blocking their path. “My name is not Willem,” he said sullenly. He turned to wave an arm at the tall building behind them. “Why are you still here? It is not right that you work in this place with these foreign capitalists.”

Bea pushed her way past him. “You may be my brother, but you are not my keeper and I will work where I please.”

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