Realising I was wringing my hands, I stopped and shook them out. ‘Okay, think, Sarah. What was in the wallet? What do you need to do?’ I willed myself to breathe, slowly, consciously, in and out. I stood in the middle of my room and closed my eyes. The safe! Of course, I had put valuables in the safe before I went out. I rushed to open it.

I took out a credit card, a wad of cash and – thank god – my phone and passport. So, I’d lost my other credit card, about twenty euros and my driver’s licence. ‘Shit.’ I was going to need my driver’s licence to rent scooters on the islands. Well, maybe they would let me rent one with my passport. It was Greece after all, and they weren’t exactly sticklers for that sort of thing. At least the thief hadn’t got my passport.

I tried to remember who was around me on the bus, but I hadn’t registered any faces. We’d been packed in there so tightly, and I’d watched out the front window most of the trip. I sighed and sat on the bed. I needed to call my bank in Australia and cancel the credit card.

After two aborted attempts to get the international operator to put through a collect call to my bank, I finally spoke to a person who could cancel the card and send me a replacement – to London, where I wouldn’t be until most of my travelling was over. At least that was something, I supposed. I did have my back-up credit card, the one with the ridiculously exorbitant fees for taking out cash and spending in foreign currencies, but at least I wasn’t completely stranded.

I hung up the phone and stretched out on my bed. Exhaustion had devolved into full-blown fatigue. I flicked off the lamp, but my mind was on high alert. I wanted to sleep, but instead I lay there for a long time wondering what else could go wrong. The travel curse had struck again.

*

I woke with a start, not knowing where I was, and smacked the crap out of my travel alarm to shut it up. I looked around the room and recognition seeped into my fuzzy mind – I was in Santorini. I smiled. Then I remembered I had been robbed the night before. The smile vanished.

It had been a restless night. Falling asleep had taken forever. And then there was the nightmare. I was lying in my bed in Sydney in the middle of the night and backpackers were robbing my flat while I pretended to be asleep. No prizes for guessing why I dreamed that.

Dread washed over me as I recalled the moment I’d emptied my bag onto my bed the night before. ‘Oh, Sarah!’ I admonished myself, again out loud. ‘Put your big-girl knickers on and get over it. Everything is going to be fine!’