The hammering on the door was as relentless as the pounding in Christian's head. If it had been anyone else he would have let them stand there, no matter what the crisis, but he couldn't turn away Syed. Not yet. It was too soon, it was all too raw.

Christian didn't know where the words he had spoken in the Unit had come from. Some instinct for self-preservation had kicked in, his mouth speaking words he didn't even know he was thinking. He needed time, time to recover and to get over the batterings - emotional and physical - of the last six months. Heading for the door, he tried to formulate his feelings into words.

"Christian! I really need to talk to you."

"Amira? What are you doing here?

My god, he thought, staring at the smudges of make up round her eyes and her dishevelled hair. She looks as bad as I do.

"Christian, I need your help."

"Amira, hold up. You don't need my help. You're supposed to be on honeymoon."

"Yeah, but I'm not, am I? I mean, look at me, here I am, back in this hell hole. Some bride I am. I couldn't even make it through the honeymoon."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Christian faltered, unsure of what to say.

"Haven't you seen Syed?" Amira's voice was sharp.

"Yes, this morning, and he said the honeymoon had been cut short. But he didn't…"

"He didn't tell you why?" Amira didn't wait for an answer. "He didn't tell you how much I repulse him? He didn't tell you that he doesn't want to touch me, to make love to me, even to be near me?"

"To be honest, babe, he didn't mention you. We talked about work. Spices, mostly."

"Well, that says it all, doesn't it? I'm Walford's newest bride, and probably its oldest virgin."

"Amira, darlin'" Christian's old humour began to uncurl inside him, "I'm sorry to hear that, but really, I'm not the right person to help you out."

"But you are, you're his best friend! If you can't help me, no-one can. It's not like I can ask Tamwar, or Masood."

"Amira, what is it that you want me to do, exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious? I want you to tell me what Syed likes in bed."

"Stop right there. Just stop." Christian took her by the arm and guided her back towards the door. "I don't know what you're trying to say, but believe me, Syed's the person you should be talking to about this, not me."

"I've tried, Christian!" Amira turned to face him, holding her hands out in entreaty or despair. "He won't talk to me. He spends all his time staring into space, or stroking his bloody mobile phone. Please, I really need your help. You're an expert at pulling men. And you're one yourself. You know what they like. Surely you can tell me what to do."

Christian was speechless. He walked over to the pristine white sofa and sank into it, burying his face in his hands. "Amira, I can't tell you how to seduce your own husband. It's just not…"

"Why can't you? Don't you know what Syed might like?"

Despite himself, Christian felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, babe, yes I do know that, but this is the sort of conversation that should happen between the two of you. I shouldn't be involved."

"Please. My marriage is at stake here. We've never talked about these things. He's so far away I think he'd find it hard to talk about a shopping list. I need action Christian, not talk. What do I do?"

"Well, if I were you…" Christian hesitated. What should he say? The best way to seduce Syed was to do it slowly, with long, soft kisses. First his lips, then his neck, working your way down his chest, tugging gently at his nipples with your teeth. The first time they'd made love, after Bushra's party, Christian had tried to rush it, treating it as no more than a casual encounter. Syed had slowed him down, letting his tongue linger as it stroked across Christian's, nipping gently at his neck, covering every inch of his chest with kisses. It hadn't taken Christian long to catch on, and they had teased and tested each other, working their way slowly down each other's body, savouring every inch of flesh.

Amira was waiting, he realised. "If I were you… have you tried bhangra?

"Bhangra?"

Syed adored making love to bhangra music. Christian had quite a selection of CDs now.

"Or candlelight?"

The first time they'd gone to bed by candlelight, Christian remembered, one of the candles had gone flying, caught by Syed's foot as they'd tumbled across the bed. The burn on the floor was still there.

Amira was shaking her head. "Or how about a shower?" Christian stopped himself from saying more. It was a ritual for them to take a shower together after having sex. They would massage each other, before making love again, the water snaking down their entwined bodies. Most of it always seemed to end up on the floor, but then, the two of them often did too, holding each other so closely, it was as if they'd never prise apart.

"I thought I might cook him a meal?" Amira ventured. No, thought Christian, that won't work. Food and sex and Syed just don't go together. Maybe it's because he spends too much time thinking about food at work, but he's just not interested. He'd always rather skip the food and head straight to bed.

"Yeah, babe, why not give it a go?"

"It's just that I can't cook," Amira reminded him.

"Of course. Best leave that one then. Look Amira, I really don't think I can help you here. I'm sorry babe, but don't you think you'd be better off talking to one of your female friends about all this?"

"You're right. I'm sorry, it's not fair to ask you all this. I just don't know where to turn. Christian, would you do me one more favour?"

"Yeah, sure, if I can?"

"Would you talk to Syed for me? Try to find out what's wrong? Maybe he'll talk to you about, you know, sex and stuff."

Christian looked at her pleading face, the eyes that hadn't slept, the unbrushed hair and the crumpled clothes. He relented, knowing from experience she was hard to refuse: "If he wants to come over, yes, I'll talk to him. But, Amira, I can't promise you'll be happy with the result."