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As the woman sat on the beach watching her small son build sandcastles she tried to clear her head and think about nothing.

It was a warm sunny day, not hot – but warm enough in the cool breeze to sunbathe for an hour or two.  The beach was almost deserted, far too cool for the locals to strip off and too early in the season for tourists.  She tried to enjoy the peace.  Her son was busily building a sand city and was thoroughly engrossed in his imaginary world. 

Suddenly she felt utterly alone.  Her head was fuzzy and she couldn’t think straight.  There were only two days left before they flew home, and somehow she had to pull herself together and salvage something from the mess she had found herself in.  Always conscious of being watched she tried to keep her composure, casually replying to her son’s questions, but not really taking anything in. 

It hadn’t been much of a holiday, the weather was unpredictable at that time of year and most of the days had either been dull or filled with incessant rain.  She shifted her position on the sand so she could look back at the bars and restaurants behind her. She could still see the three men standing on the corner chatting and smoking, they had followed her from the hotel earlier.  Were the men still watching them, or had she totally slipped into a state of paranoia?  She told herself she was safe whilst out in the open, she could see another family just a little further down the beach, a reassuring thought, should anything untoward happen. 

She lit another cigarette, slowly drawing on it as she contemplated her next move. As she inhaled the smoke it steadied her breathing and the stress she felt all over her body began to ease.  Her heartbeat slowed a little and she began to rationalise what had been going on.  The slow realisation that she has been played like a pawn in a game of chess swept over her like a wave of nausea.   ‘Foolish girl’, she thought,  ’so naive and stupid – but what’s to do?’  She settled on the idea of packing up their things and heading back to the hotel in half an hour.  By that time her son would hopefully be satisfied with his building programme, she would help with the final touches, photograph the finished city and they would quickly try and disappear through the market back to their rooms.  Then the final challenge was to get into the hotel, past the reception and the sly, greasy hotel manager without being stopped and interrogated further.    

What a hellish two weeks, and what a realisation.  She had gone from having a dream to living a nightmare.  All of the people she had relied on previously had been party to the deception and lies she was having to face up to now.  How could she go back home and tell them everything had gone?  She realised that even in this modern day a single woman with a child is still viewed as damaged goods.  No matter what anyone says, that conception is still embedded in his or her culture.  The one guy who had stepped up to help her in her hour of need was the only thing that held her faith in humanity.  He had come from nowhere, and had gone out of his way to help her.  Could she trust him though?  ’Bite the bullet’ she thought, ‘time to trust someone and who knows from behind this stormy black cloud there could be a rainbow’. With that final thought clasped in her mind, she started packing up their belongings, smiled lovingly at her son, and with a steely reserve set her sights on the market and their route of escape. 

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