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light of the risk, but it didn’t help much. The very thought her personal safety was at stake still sent a shiver down her spine. “No one said anything about terrorists. Have there been any attacks? I did a quick search on the net last week about Negala and I didn’t see anything about it.”
    â€œNo freedom of press over there. Even to put things on the net you’re sticking your neck out. We have some inside information about it, though.” He tilted his head, watching her closely as she narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. “You know, the risk is probably less than moderate. It’s just there’s no sense in putting yourself in any more danger than necessary.”
    She suddenly felt sick to the stomach. She knew the blood was draining from her face, as she imagined moments of horror at the hands of extremist groups. She thought of the life her husband Tim would live if she never returned, the pain he’d no doubt feel, the funeral he’d give her. She thought of her broken-hearted mother. How hard it would be for her! She had already lost her husband. And now she might be sick, seriously so. To lose her only child would finish her.
    Lara’s stomach tightened even more. She couldn’t ignore the nausea. It wasn’t air sickness. She never got it. No, it was fear. Pure, unadulterated fear. Where on Earth were they sending her?
    Jack must have noticed. He touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Lara, I don’t want to scare you unnecessarily. I’m just trying to make you aware of the possibilities. These are not things that are likely to happen. There are many countries where you’d be at greater risk. Hey, even going through major airports these days, you’re taking a chance.”
    She forced herself to laugh. “And we’re changing in Singapore, then Paris?”
    â€œOK. Maybe I’ll shut up. Seen any photos of Negala?”
    She nodded. “I have. In the office. It looks beautiful.” The one she liked best was of an enormous deep yellow full moon rising above softly-shaped sand dunes, as a camel strolled by.
    â€œThose were taken by a professional photographer. They do look good. But these will give you a better feel for the place. There are even some shots of people in dwanas, the traditional dress.” He handed her his laptop.
    She gasped as a slide show of barren desert, emaciated goats, dirty children in rags with begging eyes and swollen bellies, left its imprint on her memory. She’d imagined this job would be exciting, glamorous even, but she knew as she took in those images that it had the potential to be much, much more than that.
    Life-changing was the word that came to mind.

III
    Lara saw nothing but sand and the glare of the sun as the ageing Boeing 737/800 commenced its descent into Negala. The pressure in her ears was worse than on previous flights and yawning didn’t relieve it at all. She quickly unwrapped a boiled sweet and put it into her mouth.
    Her legs were stiff and swollen and she was looking forward to stretching them on the ground. If only it were in a country more familiar to her! The excitement of discovering a new place with different customs had certainly been dampened by the no-frills briefing she’d been given, warning her of health hazards and personal safety issues.
    Jack looked over, smiling, and she suddenly felt conscious of her appearance. She had dozed off close to Negala and hadn’t freshened up since. She rummaged through her handbag and pulled out moisturiser, lip gloss, a comb and mirror, which she promptly put to work.
    Jack leaned over. “How do you do it?”
    Turning to him, she rubbed her lips together to spread the peppermint-flavoured lip gloss evenly. “Do what?”
    â€œTravel for a day and a half and still be radiant. Most women look terrible first thing in the morning.”
    â€œSeen lots, have you?” The teasing about women was becoming a