Dislocation

He had no choice, he'd have to find another hotel. He'd be happy enough to tell Rachel the reason for the move, but only after he had succeeded in doing it. It shouldn't be too hard, although with all the people around this weekend, he might have to spend more money.

He called around only to find that none of the decent hotels had vacancies for tonight or tomorrow night. Not only was it a long weekend in Australia, there were also three conferences going on, and all of the suites were booked up. He did find one hotel with a vacancy, but at one look, he couldn't bring himself to book a night there. If it had been a question of just Rachel and himself, he would have changed. Two adults could have roughed it there, and they could make it so that the surroundings were irrelevant, but a small child could not stay in a place like that. Despondently, he made his way back to the hotel. He didn't look forward to explaining the position to Rachel.

He saw Emily at dinner, passing through the dining room. If she looked at him at all, he had missed her look. In some strange way, it was like Chloe all over again. He should have made more of an impression on her than that. Considering it was because of her his holiday was about to be ruined and that he had spent all afternoon trying to find ways to avert ruination, she should not be looking as though it was all in a day's work.

And considering that they had used to be married as well. Not that they had actually lived together after marriage, or even really seen each other - they had married and she should be looking as though she had been married to him.

"Not bad eh?" said a male voice next to him. A man of about his age was looking at him, grinning. He must have thought Ross was admiring Emily. "Working up the courage to ask her out."

"No. I'm married," Ross said, for that instant wishing it was true, and that he was wearing a ring. But it made no difference, after all, he was just as bonded to Rachel either way. It was just that he had no external proof to show anyone.

"No harm in looking," said the man, but went back to his own meal because Ross was looking at him, stony faced. In the end, Ross abandoned the meal for which he had little appetite, and went up to his room.

Unsuspecting, Rachel had more on her mind than her hotel. Having been so good on the first flight, Emma had decided to play up all during the trip to Bali. There was the screaming fit for no reason. That had made the person sitting next to her request to be moved to another seat, although with the increased space she'd ended up with, that wasn't all bad. Then there was the refusal to eat the food she'd been given, the kind of food she'd happily eaten on the way to Australia. With great difficulty, Rachel took her temperature. Emma didn't seem to be sickening for anything. Then Emma wet herself, just minutes after Rachel had taken her to the toilet.

Then, on the way out, Emma had slipped her hand and managed to get ahead in the queue of people. It was almost a heart stopping moment when she realised she was not in sight. A flight attendant had managed to intercept her and she was waiting at the head of the queue for her. Rachel's thanks were profuse, but the flight attendant just wanted her off the plane, and nodded her acknowledgment hurriedly.

She was so glad this trip was nearly over. She'd be able to relax, and let Ross take charge for a little while. Of course, now they were at the airport, Emma was being a little angel again. She'd be on her best behaviour for Daddy, so it seemed.

Rachel had just collected her luggage when a uniformed official asked her to go over to a series of tables. She could see that others were having their luggage opened and inspected. She was inwardly a little amused - as if someone like her would have anything in her luggage - but it was also one further annoyance to have to put up with.

She wasn't really taking it seriously as she stood in front of the baggage and answered questions - why would she? Yes that was her bag. She had just flown in from Australia. She had packed it herself. She knew exactly what she'd see when they opened the bag.

There was a large package of clear plastic through which dark green stuff could be seen. She stared at it. It wasn't hers. It couldn't be her bag after all, and she looked up at the officer.

'There's been some mistake, this isn't my bag after all,' but a gloved hand had lifted the package, and she could see her things underneath. The solution came to her, but she suddenly felt very very cold. 'It's not my package, someone must have put have put that in my bag.' But why? she thought, panicked, as Emma began to wail. Why my bag?

"Miss Rachel Green, you are under arrest for drug trafficking."

"No, there's been some mistake." This could not be happening. As one of the officers touched her, she flinched and she found herself grabbed more roughly and handcuffed. "No!" she screamed, "I've got rights, I'm an American citizen, you can't do this to me."

"You're not above the law, Miss Green," said the officer who had done all the talking. "Even Americans have to respect our laws." He was looking at her with dislike. Why was he doing that? Why should he dislike her so? What had she ever done to him? Much later, when she'd had more time than she'd ever wanted to think it over, she still didn't know - American foreign policy? Because she was wearing make up? Because of the drugs in her bag?

What she did know, both later and at the time, was that she was totally helpless. And so was Emma, who was screaming for her, reaching out hands for her. She could not take her in her arms, and instead had to watch some strange woman pick her up.

This could not be happening.