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There appeared not a single star in the sky.
To her left, the couple who had argued about everything were now complaining about the hard mattress and there was a man snoring to her right.
Of all the many highlights of her year, Zayrinia had become her favourite. She had instantly felt somehow drawn to the land.
That in itself was rare for Maggie.
She had learnt not to get attached to people, let alone locations, yet there was something about Zayrinia that entranced her.
It really did, Maggie thought as she gazed up at the dark, heavy sky.
While there wasn’t a star to be seen, the clouds billowed and raced so swiftly it was as if the sky had been placed on fast forward, and soon the sounds of her fellow tourists were drowned out by the cries of the wind whistling through distant canyons.
It really had been the most amazing year. One that Maggie would never have embarked on had it not been for her mother.
It wasn’t the lack of stars that had tears pool in her eyes, or the knowledge that her trip was drawing to a close.
The threat of tears was reserved for the very reason she was here.
Maggie missed her mother so much.
Erin Delaney had fallen pregnant when she was just seventeen and Maggie had never known her father.
Even though she had been a single, teenage mum, Erin had given her daughter a very happy childhood.
Still now, when Maggie felt alone or scared, thoughts of innocent, happy times would come to mind.
Maggie lay there remembering a time they had come from the baker’s and had got caught in the rain. They had ducked under the awnings of a shop that had, though Maggie hadn’t really understood then, been a travel agent.
‘You need to see the world, Maggie,’ her mother had said as they’d looked at a huge map in the window.
‘I like it here.’
‘I know you do, but there’s a whole world outside London. I was going to go travelling and see it for myself...’
‘But you had me instead.’
‘You’re the best mistake I ever made!’ Erin smiled. ‘But seriously, Maggie, you make sure you see the world. I’m saving up hard and next year we’re going to Paris.’
They hadn’t got there, though.
After a short, hard-fought battle with cancer, Erin had passed away. She’d had little money but she had left a small sum for Maggie to inherit when she turned twenty-one and it had been accompanied by a letter. In it Erin had told her daughter that she had been and still was deeply loved. Erin had said that she hoped Maggie would consider spreading her wings and taking in this wonderful world in a way that she had not.
The money had been enough to cover the airfare, but it had taken Maggie two years to save up enough to take the trip.
She had taken the train first to Paris and from there Maggie had travelled through Europe before heading to America and then Asia and Australia and home via the Middle East.
And now on the final leg of her journey, Zayrinia had won her heart.
On Monday she would be on her way back to London and a week after that she would be back working at the café.
Maggie fought to keep her eyes open, for she wanted to savour every last moment. But the day had started early and an awful lot of it had been spent in the sun. Maggie’s eyes were soon closing.
At first she thought the rustle of the tent was just the wind but then Maggie felt a hand on her shoulder. For a brief second she thought it must be the guide telling her to wake up, but then the hand gripped her tighter, roughly, and even before Maggie thought to scream, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth.
It all happened so quickly—one moment Maggie was sleeping, the next she was being dragged under the canvas and through the sand.
She fought and kicked but there was more than one person and the wind was her enemy now, for it drowned the sounds of the struggle she made. She smelt body odour and felt the rough fabric of their clothes against her cheeks. But their grip on her arms and thighs only tightened as she twisted to free herself.
