We have walked for miles and I am seriously exhausted. It is stiflingly hot and Bryant keeps saying we can’t chance getting a taxi. I think he is paranoid. Any warm feelings I felt for him vanished when he refused to allow me to change before leaving. If that wasn’t enough, he also forbade me to bring my hairdryer, face cream and a spare pair of sandals. The only thing I threw on was my bra which, I swear, must still have stones in it as something has been sandpapering my nipple the whole way. I’ve heard of joggers’ nipple but this is ridiculous. Alex Bryant is most definitely bad for my health. This is the most exercise I have had in years, I’m not sure my body can take it. ‘There’s no time to lose,’ he had snapped, his blue eyes hardening.I have been dragged through rice fields, hurried along dirt tracks and told to turn off my phone in case we are being tracked. If Alex Bryant is Indiana Jones, then I am most certainly Lara Croft. I rather think if I had been allowed to have my hairdryer and face cream I could have looked half like her too.
