Then I remembered. Evan, mid-snog last night, had murmured ‘Here’s a little present for you.’ I’d thought he was referring to his large and frankly intrusive tongue, but he must have slipped the pot into my handbag then. I was momentarily touched – how sweet of him! Giving me drugs and beating up Alex for me. Bless. I considered writing him a little thank-you note, and then decided against it. Better for me to disassociate myself, and deny any knowledge of him. I’d have to dump the pot, too. Thank goodness I’d found it before I went through Customs!

I was about to tip it down the loo when I thought, no, while I’m still in Amsterdam I don’t need to worry. I pocketed the bag and decided that I might as well indulge myself a little before going home. I could just leave it in the hotel room for the cleaners to enjoy – if I hadn’t finished it all by then.

I flushed the toilet and emerged, repairing my make-up at the mirror before cautiously opening the door back into the lobby. It was still deserted, but I slunk out with great trepidation and hid behind a large luggage rack with two rucksacks on it. I still had to make extra sure I didn’t bump into Alex and Emily coming back in.

A label on one of the rucksacks caught my eye: Emily Norris-Bottom, it said. I sniggered out loud, stifling it quickly. Could that really be Emily’s surname? Oh, how I’d have enjoyed writing that on the jiffy bag with the magazines/rat, if only I’d known it before. To double check, I looked for identification on the other rucksack and, sure enough, there it was: Alex Parkinson.

Well, I could deal with coming face-to-face with their luggage, just as long as I didn’t have to see them in person. A door across the lobby opened and a very elderly-looking porter emerged, meandering slowly towards me. I was surprised – I didn’t think a hotel this grotty would run to a receptionist and a porter – but still, never mind. Checking that the coast was clear, I was about to make a dash for it when I had a sudden flash of inspiration.

Before I could think it through, I’d pulled out the bag of pot and stuffed it into the side pocket of Emily’s rucksack. Then I scurried out of the hotel, thankfully unobserved.

If she got home without being stopped, she could call it a little gift from me. If she got caught by Customs – well, then she could call it revenge.

I got a cab back to my hotel, determined to relax and enjoy the rest of my holiday on my own. No Alex, or Emily, or Evan. Just the pleasure of my own company, a couple of art museums, a nice restaurant or two, and some good books.

But I was still on tenterhooks, waiting for the knock at the door saying that the police wanted to speak to me on a matter of intent to cause GBH, or worse, attempted murder. How did my life suddenly get to be this dramatic?

Chapter 32

Alex

Amsterdam (Continued)

Right on cue, as soon as the brick shithouses had vanished into the Amsterdam night, a member of the hotel staff came running out to find me lying on the ground, Emily kneeling beside me. I looked up and saw the young woman who had checked us into the hotel; she was followed by a couple of other members of staff; and – predictably – a number of guests who had made their way from the hotel bar to gawp at me. Something for them to mention on their postcards home. I closed my eyes again. I didn’t want to get up. I was starting to feel quite comfortable lying in the gutter.

‘Is he okay?’ asked the hotel receptionist.

Emily said, ‘Call an ambulance.’

I opened my eyes and started to push myself onto all fours. ‘No, I don’t need an ambulance.’

‘Call the police,’ said Emily.

I shook my head, pushing myself to my feet. Emily held me by the elbow. She felt even shakier than I was. I said, ‘Don’t worry. I don’t need the police.’

‘Alex, don’t be an idiot. What do you mean, you don’t need the police?’

I tried to think of a reason that would make sense. ‘It’s too much hassle. I just want to go to bed.’

Another member of the hotel staff, a guy my age, came over. He told us he was the assistant manager. ‘I think we need to call the police. We have to think about the safety of our guests.’ A murmured chorus of approval came from the crowd.

Emily was looking at me very strangely. I said, ‘Okay. Whatever. But I didn’t see much. I won’t be able to tell them anything.’

The assistant manager went inside to call the police and we followed. The warm air in the lobby made my head spin. I sat in a big armchair with saggy upholstery. Emily sat beside me and said, ‘Well, I saw everything. I got a really good look at them. They were big and muscular and looked… Dutch.’ She trailed off, biting her lip.

The onlookers shuffled away, bored. Nobody had died or been consigned to a wheelchair. The assistant manager came back and said, ‘The police will talk to you at the hospital. I called an ambulance as well.’

‘But I told you I don’t need one,’ I moaned.

He looked at me like I was a stubborn and stupid child. ‘We don’t want people saying we don’t look after our guests, do we?’

The ambulance didn’t take long. The paramedics put me into a fold-up wheelchair and pushed me out to the ambulance. The pain in my chest was getting worse and I wondered aloud if something had been fractured or broken. Emily sat in the back of the ambulance, still chewing her lip and looking worried.

‘Alex…’ she started, but I groaned and said, ‘Please, not now… it hurts to talk.’ The paramedic guy beside me nodded and Emily fell quiet. I felt guilty, knowing how anxious she must be, remembering all the secrets I had, but right then it honestly did hurt to talk. In several ways.

We reached the hospital and they wheeled me off to a room where a doctor checked me over, then they took a couple of X-rays and told me I was going to be fine. ‘Nothing serious – no need for worries,’ said the doctor, patting my arm firmly. ‘Looks like you got on the wrong side of someone?’

I closed my eyes and looked at the pretty patterns.

‘Anyway, the police will be here soon, then you can go back to your hotel room.’ He winked at Emily. ‘He’s okay, but you’d better leave him alone tonight. No, how do you say, bone-jumping for a day or two.’

A pair of policemen turned up shortly afterwards. I had expected a couple of uniformed hippies with big moustaches, but they looked like policemen the world over. Bored and superior. They asked me my name, address, the purpose of my visit to Amsterdam, etc. Their English, like everyone in this city, was excellent.

‘Do you have any idea why these men attacked you?’ the older policeman asked after Emily and I had described the brick shithouses. (I think I actually used those words.)

‘No,’ I replied.

Emily was looking at me from over the policeman’s shoulder, her eyes narrowed.

‘I guess it was just a random mugging.’

‘But they didn’t steal anything,’ said the other cop.

‘No. Maybe they heard someone coming out of the hotel and got scared. We were lucky.’

‘Hmm. And they didn’t say anything to you?’

‘No. Nothing.’

Emily’s eyes became slits.

‘And they didn’t try to hurt you, Miss?’

Emily shook her head. ‘They didn’t touch me.’

The policemen looked at each other. The older one sighed. ‘Random violence. It is a growing problem everywhere, I think. Even in your country.’

‘Especially in my country,’ I said.

He nodded sadly. Then they said they would be in touch if they needed to ask me any more questions, and left. Emily walked out of the room and returned a few minutes later. ‘There’s a taxi on the way. And when we get back to the hotel, we need to talk.’

Great, I thought. Just great.

I lay down on one bed and Emily sat on the other. She leaned forward and said very quietly, ‘Why did you lie to the police?’

‘What? I didn’t.’