desk with Mum, as she’d bought his ticket separately after he decided to come along at the last minute.
We all went together to check in the boogie board. Then Mum said, ‘Quick, quick, a photo!’ and took a snap of the four of us, right beside the counter where my fate had just been sealed. I had no idea this snap would come to represent my last hours of freedom, my last hours as a carefree young girl. I felt so relaxed and happy. It was easy to smile for the camera.
I hadn’t wanted to fly via Sydney, but all the direct flights had been fully booked. I’d waited until the last minute to confirm our flight, hoping that seats on a direct one would come up, but none did. If it annoyed me at the time that we each had to pay an extra couple of hundred dollars for the privilege of wasting three and a half hours in transit, now it really pisses me off. I believe that if I’d flown direct, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today.
During the flight from Sydney, I sat next to Ally, and we were pretty merry after having a couple of beers in the international terminal and then a few more on the plane. Feeling tipsy, I think we spent most of the six-hour flight laughing at nothing. I hadn’t been to Bali since meeting up with Mum there in mid-2000 on my way back from Japan, and I’d never flown overseas with my good friends before. I was well into the holiday spirit.
So as we got off the plane at Ngurah Rai Airport at about 3.30 p.m., I had no sense of foreboding that within minutes my life as I knew it would be finished, for good.
I walked over to the baggage carousel and collected my suitcase but couldn’t see my boogie-board bag. A second or two later, I spotted it on the ground several metres away and went to pick it up. The little handle I normally used to carry it had been cut. Nasty people, who’d do that? I wondered, grabbing it by a shoulder strap on the other side. Ally saw me struggling with all my bags – my boogie board, my suitcase and my little blue carry-on bag – and sang out to James, ‘Go help your sister!’ He did, dragging the boogie board along with his own stuff to the customs counter. Ally and Katrina had already gone through without having their bags checked and were waiting for us.
James put his suitcase up onto the counter first and opened it for inspection. The customs officer might have been a bit shocked to see that James’s case was crammed full of tuna tins. He’s super-healthy and into body sculpting, and he never leaves home without a supply of protein-filled tuna. But the officer just zipped it backup. He then pointed to the boogie-board bag and asked James, ‘Is that yours?’
I was in high spirits, oblivious to being seconds away from my life turning to hell. I cheerfully picked the bag up off the floor and placed it on the counter, saying, ‘No, no, it’s mine. Here you go . . .’ Almost in the same movement I went to unzip the bag. He didn’t ask me to; I just did it. It all happened fast, as I had nothing to hide.
I noticed that the two zips were done up in the middle, which surprised me, because I always did them up to the left side. Any bag with two zippers I always did up to the side, never in the middle. Pedantic, but that’s me. So I thought, Oh, that’s strange . But like all the slightly odd things that happened, I didn’t think too much about it at the time. After all, this bag only had my flippers and boogie board in it. It didn’t even cross my mind that someone might have actually put something into the bag.
I may have paused momentarily when I noticed the zips, but things were still moving quickly. Then time stopped dead.
As I opened my boogie-board bag, I was struck by the sight of something I knew I hadn’t put in there. Whoa! I reeled back slightly. My heart stopped. I knew what it looked like but wasn’t sure. I shot a look at the customs officer to see if he’d seen it, too. I couldn’t tell. In a panic, in shock, I shut it fast. The