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thoughts passed through her mind, Laila kept on running, hearing the muffled voices of the disgruntled crowd as she pushed past them, frantic to get away. She looked up at the signs. Which way out? Her eyelashes caught her veil, making her flinch. She ran forward towards the throng of people, hoping it was the exit.
    Laila hurried on, seeing the curious looks from the passersby. Couldn’t they see she needed help? Help from what was about to happen. But how could they? They could no more help her than she could help herself.
    Tears started to spring into her eyes, disrupting her vision even more.
    ‘Hey! Hey lady, calm down. Anyone would think you were in a hurry.’
    A large security guard blocked Laila’s way. His arms outstretched with a large kind grin on his face.
    ‘Excuse me; can you get out of my way?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    The material deflected the sound of her voice causing Laila to speak louder. ‘Can you get out of my way?’
    ‘It’s fine, she’s with me. She’s a nervous flyer. She’s never been one for planes, have you Laila?’
    Laila turned to see her uncle, out of breath, standing behind her. His eyes were cold as he looked down. He took her tightly by her hand, pulling her away from the gaze of the guard.
    ‘Going somewhere Laila?’
    ‘No … no, I just needed to get some air.’
    ‘I hope you weren’t thinking of running to that boyfriend of yours? Not sure if he’ll be fit to see you.’
    Laila screamed. She started to sink to her knees, but was held up by Tariq who’d come up behind her as well. He pulled her gently back to the coffee shop. His words were a warning as well as his tone. ‘If you want some advice, please do yourself a favour Laila and make this easy on yourself. Don’t mess with uncle.’
    A crash of luggage falling off a trolley distracted Tariq, causing him to loosen his grip on his sister’s arm. Knowing it might be her last chance of freedom, Laila bolted. Running, ignoring the cry of her name, she lifted up her burka, revealing a pair of jeans underneath as she ran up the stairwell in front of her. If she could just find the exit, at least then there was more chance of getting away.
    At the top of the stairs, Laila was breathing hard and was still no closer to finding the exit of the overcrowded airport. She hadn’t noticed the way she’d come in. Even though she didn’t know which way she was going, Laila continued to run, sensing an ever-nearing threat behind her. She was too afraid to turn around, knowing it could cost her vital seconds.
    In the distance she saw two police officers. She hesitated. Perhaps they could help? But then, what would she say? She didn’t want to get into trouble and she certainly didn’t want her family to be in trouble. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure if she could trust them. She’d always been told the police weren’t sympathetic and wanted to keep out of these matters; worried they were too culturally sensitive to get involved.
    Pressing on, Laila continued along the upper level of the airport.
    ‘Could Laila Khan please come to the check-in desk? Laila Khan to the check-in desk.’
    The voice over the airport tannoy sounded loudly, making Laila feel exposed. She whirled around as if a thousand fingers were pointing at her, uncovering her whereabouts, but she only saw the milling crowd of travellers. As oblivious to who Laila was as they were to her fear.
    Then through the crowds Laila saw what she hadn’t wanted to see. Something which made her recoil into herself making her stoop in panic as she stood frozen to the spot. She saw the jet-black head of hair, distinctive by the way it bobbed and flopped. She saw the camel-coloured suede shoes paired with the green linen trousers. It was her brother, with his gaze transfixed on her.
    Laila span round to run, but less than a meter away stood her uncle, disdainful and angry. Terror took over and she took an involuntary step towards the glass railing overlooking the drop to the