Innocent Abroad

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Innocent Abroad

Debbie flung herself into the alleyway. It was dark, - dark as Egypt and smelled like cheese - that’s what they used to say as kids. This was much worse. It smelled of cat piss, mould and, God knows what, but she felt safer. She listened for footsteps but the only sound she could hear was the swish of tyres as cars slid through the storm washed street.

God, what a bummer, five hours into her OE and she’d already lost her backpack. She reached for her handkerchief to mop her streaming hair and recalled her father’s words at the airport.

“Here blow your nose, honey. You’ll have us all in tears.”

And her mum’s, “Now don’t forget to write.”

Followed by big sister, Karen’s derisive, “She doesn’t know how! Hope you packed your lap top Sis?”

Her twin brothers had grinned at her, but she’d known what they were thinking.

For weeks the family had gone on about the thieves, con men, and drug dealers who were waiting just for her. Her brothers had been the worst. If they’d had their way no female of the species would be allowed to leave home without a male escort. They were positively Victorian. She’d laughed because they didn’t trust her, but now, by golly, she’d proved them right. What a fool she’d been to dump her pack on the footpath, whilst she rummaged around inside it for the phone list Karen had given her. She’d been so absorbed in what she was doing that she hadn’t heard him coming and when he barged into her she’d taken to her heels without thinking. Her athletic training had paid off and she’d outdistanced him, but at what cost? She patted her anorak; thank God her passport and wallet were tucked away safely in the lining pocket.

As her eyes became accustomed to the dark she realised that the back entrances of the High Street shops opened out on to the alley. The sides of this walkway were cluttered with old crates, cardboard cartons, empty bottles and other stinking rubbish. She froze when she heard a sound. There it was again. Could it be a snore? Was that someone lying asleep under that heap of plastic and old newspapers? What had seemed a safe place was now menacing. Cautiously she edged her way towards the entrance. She’d have to find a Police Station and report the theft. The travel insurance her dad had bought for her was going to be needed.

She poked her head out of the entrance. To the right the street was deserted. It was as she swung round to look the other way that he grabbed her from behind. She knew it was the same guy because he was still holding her backpack in his free hand. She kicked out at him.

“Help,” she faltered.

His grip tightened. “Steady on miss, I’m only trying to help you.”

“Help, help,” this time her voice was stronger.

“For Heaven’s sake, woman, listen to me. Your pack,” he swung it towards her, “you left it on there on the footpath when you ran.”

She raised her head and looked at him bemused.

“Look, I’m sorry I bumped into you, but what on earth made you tear off like that? You’ve not robbed a bank, have you?”

She shook her head. He grinned at her embarrassment as red faced she attempted to stammer her thanks. He raised his hand to his cap in salute before he turned to walk away.

As she hoisted her pack back on her shoulders she heard him say,

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that English policemen are wonderful