As a British Iranian woman, I know why Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe's case has not been a priority for our government

As I was trudging across North Bridge in Edinburgh yesterday, back to my homestay to have a rest between watching shows, I received a text from my friend, poet Luke Wright. “Check the news,” he said. “Nazanin is on a break from prison.” His next text came swiftly: “I’m weeping here.”

I sat at a bus stop on the North Bridge, looked at my phone, and I too had a little cry. Luckily it was during one of the city’s sudden heavy downpours, so you couldn’t tell I was crying – it just looked like I was gurning, perhaps after a night out at the TV festival, which bizarrely felt more socially acceptable than bursting into tears of happiness and relief in public.

Richard Ratcliffe, Nazanin’s husband – as well as Redress and Amnesty International, along with other supporters – campaigned to ensure that when I write “Nazanin” you know who I’m talking about.

If you don’t – a few Martian tourists read my column – Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe has been in prison in Iran for almost two years facing charges plucked from thin air. Her husband had not seen his wife or his daughter during that time, as their two year old, Gabriella, had her passport taken away and remained in Iran with her grandparents.

The Iranian authorities – not known for a reluctance to torture innocent people – will not grant Richard a visa to visit. Boris Johnson, when he was foreign secretary, had the case sitting on his desk for ages, under some rusty tea caddy. Finally he responded to pleas for help with a load of codswallop he made up on the spot, making her situation worse.

A public outcry forced him to visit Iran with shoulders hunched, hands in pockets, most likely muttering to himself: “She’s a dual national, she wasn’t even born in England – why can’t I forget about her and do something more fun?” You don’t have to be born in a country to belong to it. Johnson, who was born in the US, should know that.

His successor, Jeremy Hunt, has appealed on TV for Nazanin to be freed and mentioned the need to address this “gross injustice”, underlining the fact Britain is where she and little Gabriella belong.

Getting to this point has taken two years. Two years of campaigning by a husband who must so often have felt he was stumbling around in the dark.

For my part, I joined Richard, Redress and Amnesty International on protests, I helped organise a morale raising benefit and did whatever else they asked. I didn’t get on board immediately with campaigning though – isn’t that a terrible thing to admit? My brother Peyvand, who helped every way he could from the start, kept emailing me and texting, asking me to do something. It was too horrible, too close to home to engage with. I have my own little children who I look after alone so I try and keep a “happy head”. I told my brother: “This crazy stuff happens in Iran, they’ll let her out soon.”

It did seem a sad but familiar story. So many Iranians we know have travelled to Iran to visit family and for one nonsensical reason or another, have been put in prison and let out within a week or so. I wanted to deny Nazanin’s case was any different. I wasn’t brave enough to acknowledge it wasn’t. “Experts are dealing with it, surely?” I chirped. They weren’t, my brother told me: she was in danger of being forgotten. Because she had dual nationality she wasn’t a priority for politicians and some of the press. Her name is Nazanin Zaghari and not, for example, Molly Smith. She looks more like me, than someone’s cousin from Shropshire. These things make it harder to push a person’s plight into the public consciousness. I don’t mean to make accusations – it’s just a reality.

Eventually, my exasperated brother invited Richard Ratcliffe to meet me after one of my shows, and by doing so forced me to wake up, to understand there were no hidden, powerful forces helping her family. Richard’s very British calm couldn’t mask how desperately he needed to be heard. He is an accountant from Finchley, trying to get his innocent wife and child back from the clutches of the Islamic Republic of Iran, with its government’s – let’s be diplomatic here – “relaxed” attitude to human rights.

I asked if he was able to Skype his daughter. His gentle answer unbolted my heart against the misery I had been trying to keep out: “Chats are getting tricky. She’s forgetting her English.” She was forgetting the language he loved her in. What a simple revelation to shatter my heart and pull me on board.

That was more than two years ago and millions of other people, thanks to Richard’s campaigning with friends and supporters, have also come on board. So has, finally, our secretary of state. Our government is finally fighting her corner.

A play called Nazanin’s Story, by Howell Productions, will be touring after finishing its run at the Fringe in Edinburgh. Telling the story is what has kept Nazanin’s name out there.

Now we are hoping for her permanent release. It had better be raining cats and dogs when I receive that text.