I spun in an agitated circle, not knowing which way to go. There was a door at either end of the short corridor. I had a fifty-fifty chance of hitting the right one, so I went left.

Wrong choice. The door didn’t lead to the street but to the kitchen. I found that out when it opened, to display a stove, a table, a sink, and Granny.

I should have such reflexes when I’m a hundred years old. Snarling toothlessly at me, she hopped back, reaching for something on the table. There were several things on the table: a pot, a bunch of onions, and a long knife. I didn’t wait to see which one she wanted. I pushed her, as gently as circumstances allowed, and headed for the other door, followed by screams and curses. The latter came from Feisal, whose footsteps I could hear in the corridor.

Door number three wasn’t locked either. My exultation received a rude check when I found myself, not on the street but in a walled enclosure. It was unpaved. Weeds, or maybe they were onions, stuck up from the dirt and there were a few chickens pecking disinterestedly at the ground. They scattered, squawking irritably, as I dashed for the gate. He hadn’t bolted that either, the egotistical thing.

I didn’t bother closing it behind me, nor did I stop to consider which way to go. Any way was better than where I was. I turned right this time and ran like hell, followed by renewed protests from the chickens and a lot of bad language from Feisal.

Back home they’d have called it an alley. It was narrow and unpaved and bounded by high walls – the backs of other such courtyards, I assumed. There was nobody around, not even a chicken, but not far ahead I could see people and cars and other hopeful signs.

I don’t know how far behind he was when I burst out of the alley onto the street. He didn’t follow me. I hadn’t thought he would. He wouldn’t dare drag me back fighting and yelling with all those people around.

I had no idea where I was. It had to be Luxor, but it didn’t resemble the part of the city with which I was familiar. It looked more like one of the country towns we had passed through on our shore tours – one-storey shops, street stalls, uneven sidewalks littered with debris. I walked on, ignoring the curious glances I got from passersby. This was definitely not one of the popular tourist spots. I was the only foreigner in sight.