Page 22 of You Lied First

C eline is not wrong. In under half an hour, the man and his sons have fitted their own spare wheel onto our car and taken our flat spare wheel as their own replacement: a straight swap.

There follows a lot of hand-shaking and back-patting.

Guy tries to give the man some cash and, failing that, take his phone number, but he shakes his head.

The Omanis pile back into their car and drive off, leaving us looking incredulously at each other.

‘Did he seriously just give us his own wheel?’ Liv asks.

‘Arabian hospitality at its best. Lucky for us,’ Guy says. ‘Right, come on, let’s get going.’

The mood in our car, as we get back on the road, is reflective as we process all that’s just happened – both the tyre blow-out and the help.

I’m still reeling. I believe in signs and a part of me feels like the double knock-back of the puncture and the flat spare was the universe telling us to turn back.

I feel like we’ve gone against what’s meant to be by carrying on.

I can’t shake off a feeling of impending doom.

‘I suppose it works for him,’ Guy says. ‘Our spare looked unused, so I guess he didn’t lose out. I wanted to pay him, or swap it back, but he wouldn’t hear of it. You saw how he was.’

‘I can’t imagine that happening back home,’ I say.

‘You can always call a breakdown service back home, to be fair,’ Celine says.

‘And well driven, G, by the way. I think we both owe you a thank-you.’ She gives Guy’s leg a pat.

He reaches down and holds her hand for a moment, and I’m almost a hundred per cent sure, watching that, something’s happened between them.

‘Any time,’ Guy says. ‘Right, I reckon we’ll be there in about forty minutes and, if everyone pulls their weight, we should have camp set up just in time for some very welcome sundowners.’

‘Amen to that!’ Celine says with a huge sigh. ‘I’m looking forward to this so much.’

‘Do you know the site? Have you camped there before?’ I ask.

Celine smiles gently as she peers back at me. ‘Oh, Sara, you’re so sweet.’

‘What?’

‘Umm,’ Guy says. ‘You know there is no “site” as such, don’t you?

It’s just desert. We’re going to drive off-road until we find a nice bit – maybe with a big dune or two for some bashing with the quad bike – and then we’ll stop and pitch our tents.

Just like that.’ He pauses. ‘You’re not expecting showers or anything, are you?

There aren’t even toilets. We’re going off-grid for twenty-four hours. ’

‘The full Bear Grylls!’ Celine says.

‘You’ll be picking sand out of your scalp for the next month and I’m not kidding,’ Guy says. ‘But it’ll be fun.’

‘I’m not planning on rolling down the dunes,’ I say drily.

‘It just gets everywhere. You can’t help it,’ Guy says. He chuckles. ‘Camping here is quite the experience. You’ll never forget it. That much I promise.’

‘Can’t wait.’ I lean back on the leather seat and look out of the window.

The road snakes ahead of us, a line of tarmac as far as the eye can see.

We see the odd settlement of white houses clustered around a mosque, but there’s not much besides sand and an expanse of clear sky so big it almost gives me vertigo.

After another fifteen minutes, Guy slows the car a little and then turns off onto a smaller road, then again onto a sand track.

‘Now for the fun bit,’ he says as we rattle along the track far faster than I think is appropriate for a rental car, especially one that’s just had a flat and now has no spare. ‘You might want to hang on tight. Things are about to get very bumpy.’