‘That’s only a silly nickname – you don’t think he really has fleas, do you?’ Minnie asked in alarm.

‘Yes. I think you both do. Bags not sitting next to you on the plane.’

At the airport Minnie began to sweat as soon as they got out of the taxi. She repeatedly kept checking she had her passport, her wallet and her luggage, convinced one or all of them would be stolen at any moment.

‘Relax, Miss Paranoia. You’re only going to draw attention to where your wallet is if you keep checking it like that,’ said Leila.

The air in the terminal building was cool compared to the humidity outside. In the sprawling modern concourse, there were queues everywhere: queues to check in luggage, queues to have your bags wrapped in cellophane, queues snaking around the building going – apparently – nowhere.

‘Ooh there’s a Cafechino! Do you want a coffee or one of those yummy spicy samosas?’ asked Leila, nodding her head towards a café near the entrance.

‘I’m not eating anything until I get home, I’m not tempting fate,’ said Minnie, shaking her head and pinching her lips tight shut.

At baggage security, Minnie was still sweating and scratching her arms furiously.

Leila handed her a tissue. ‘Don’t look so guilty, Minnie, or they’ll take you for a full cavity search,’ she hissed.

As Minnie’s bag went through the security scanner, the man sitting behind the screen eyed Minnie suspiciously. He had a neat brown moustache and dark hair combed into an arrow-straight side parting. His blue uniform was crisp and starched; his eyes darted between Minnie and the screen in front of him. He motioned to a colleague, pointed at the screen and then at Minnie.

‘Miss, is this your bag?’ said a tall, thinner man with old-fashioned spectacles and a more wrinkled uniform. He beckoned Minnie through to the other side of the conveyor belt.

‘Yes,’ Minnie said with a resigned little nod.

Of course someone had hidden drugs in her bag and now she was going to rot in an Indian prison for the next twenty years. It was all too predictable.

‘Please come, miss,’ said the taller man, beckoning her.

She followed him through to a small room, while the shorter man carried her black suitcase behind them. Minnie looked around for Leila who shook her head and held up her hands in an overblown shrug.

‘Can I search the bag?’ said the shorter man politely.

‘Sure,’ said Minnie, ‘be my guest.’