Logan secured the riding helmet over her straight black hair held by a cream and blue patterned scrunchie at the nape of her neck.  She could not resist stroking Jack’s soft, whiskery nose and breathing in his warm, horsey scent before moving along his flank and planting her left foot in the stirrup.

‘One, two, three, hup,’ she counted under her breath, as she swung easily into the saddle.

Despite being almost six feet tall, moving with grace came effortlessly to Logan.  She had no idea how stunning she looked in her long beige jodhpurs and sky blue riding jacket, which brought out the clear blue of her eyes.  Jack’s black coat looked as smooth as silk in the sunshine, evidence of the thorough daily grooming Logan gave him.

As she leaned down to tighten the girth, Logan could not help feeling slightly nervous.  Last week she had fallen during her jumping lesson when her bleeper had gone off, distracting her at a crucial moment.

Logan hoped her bleeper would not go off today; it was securely clipped to the waistband of her jodhpurs.  Conversely, she also longed for it to go off.  Tightening the reins to encourage Jack forward into a rising trot, Logan wondered if her dad would ever receive a heart transplant.  He had been on the waiting list for months, and she did not think he could hang on for much longer.  She was unsure which was worse, the endless waiting or the cruel false alarms.  That had happened last week.  The hospital had bleeped to say a heart was available, and they had dropped everything to rush to the ward only to find that there was an unexpected problem with the donor.  It had been tough seeing the light fade from her dad’s eyes when he heard the news, his face becoming lined and grey-looking in a matter of seconds.  Logan had not known what to do or say to comfort him.  It had not helped that she could only hobble and move slowly, thanks to her fall.  She smiled a little, remembering how kind the young doctor had been, slipping her some strong painkillers and arranging for a nurse to bring her and her dad some hot, sweet tea.

The hardest thing about her dad needing a heart transplant was the fact that Logan could do nothing except wait.  She was not good at waiting.  Her natural instinct was to attack life with determination.  Suddenly, Logan felt angry at the whole situation.  She urged Jack forward into a canter, heading for the vertical fence she had previously come to grief on.  Logan’s eyes locked onto the fence, as did Jack’s, his ears pricked in concentration.  They were four paces away, three, two, Logan shifted automatically into the jump position just before Jack leapt over the fence, landing with a soft thud on the other side.

‘Woo hooo!  Well done, Jacky-boy!’ yelled Logan as she patted his neck, a huge smile on her face.  Maybe the hospital would bleep tonight….

Louisa pressed down on the accelerator even harder.  If she could maintain a steady speed they should easily make it to the airport in time.  She stared intently through the windscreen, hoping no police cars were patrolling today.  But surely even the police would understand her need for speed, when her only brother lay seriously ill in a German hospital.

‘Uh oh, looks busy up ahead,’ said Marcus.  ‘I hope it’s nothing major.’

They came to an unwelcome halt.

‘Damn,’ said Louise craning her neck, trying to see over the vehicles in front of them.  There was absolutely nothing visible apart from innumerable pairs of red brake lights and three lines of unmoving traffic stretching endlessly ahead.  Marcus fiddled with the radio, trying to find a station that would explain why the M1 had become a rapidly filling car park.

… the southbound carriageway of the M1 remains closed after an earlier accident between junctions 23 and 22.  The queues are stretching back as far as junction 25 and drivers are advised to avoid using this stretch of the M1…

Louisa leaned forward and turned off the ignition before laying her head in her hands.  She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.  How could this have happened to them?  Why on earth had they not thought to check the traffic before setting out?  There was only one plane leaving from Heathrow for Stuttgart today.  Her sister-in-law was expecting them to arrive tonight.  Louisa could not bear to think of her lonely vigil by Garth’s bedside.  She felt a tentative hand on her shoulder and turned her head.

‘Marcus, what are we going to do?’ she asked, biting the inside of her lips.

Marcus gave her shoulder a squeeze, and Louisa leaned her head against him with a sigh.  All around them drivers had switched off their engines; the ensuing silence was out of place here, emphasised by the steady whoosh, whoosh from the fast-moving vehicles opposite.  Every so often the car was rocked in the sudden gusts of wind caused by heavy lorries on the other carriageway.  Some drivers left their cars and gathered in small groups, comparing traffic reports.  Others talked urgently into mobile phones.  One or two headed purposefully up the grassy bank; a lack of facilities never bothered men, mused Louisa.  The driver in the adjacent car had wound his seat back and lay with his eyes closed.

Louisa felt she would have given anything to be on the opposite carriageway.  She almost hated those drivers for being free while she was trapped, surrounded by stationary vehicles.  A rustling interrupted her longing thoughts.  Marcus was rummaging in the plastic bag at his feet.

‘How about a spot of lunch?’ he asked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her.

‘Yes, I might as well.  Nothing else much is happening.’

She felt better, eating her humous and falafel wrap and sipping bottled water.  Drivers began returning to their vehicles and all around them engines started up.  She glanced across at Marcus, sudden hope lighting her eyes.  They were on the move again.

The huge sand dune towered above us into the hot sky and I gazed up at it in awe.  The lower part was criss-crossed with tyre tracks left by rich young Emirati men, who love the adrenalin-rush of shooting the dunes.

We began to climb, puffing and panting.  I paused to get my breath and gazed around me, pretending to admire the view.  I struggled higher, reminded of the song ‘One step forward, two steps back’, only this was more like one step forward, ten steps back.  My friend Cassie overtook me effortlessly, carrying the water bottle with her up the steep incline.  The muscles in my legs set up an ominous trembling as I battled the constantly shifting sand.  The afternoon sun beat against my back and my throat felt as dry as the desert around me.  I could not take my eyes off the full water bottle perched on the top of the dune.

Cassie shouted encouragement from the summit.  I gritted my teeth as I scrambled a couple of paces before collapsing in the sand.  Forcing myself up, I scrambled another couple of paces before collapsing again. 

Eventually I landed, shaking but triumphant, on the triangular sandy ridge.  The water was wonderfully refreshing, its cool wetness trickling down my throat.  Before me lay the white oasis city of Al Ain; behind me, the setting sun cast lengthening shadows across the undulating desert dunes.

My friend Edward had only made it half way up the dune and was sitting with his back to us.  He appeared to be watching a large, black 4×4 whose driver was trying to get as far up the dune as he could before side-sliding back down.  Cassie and I watched too, laughing and chatting on the ridge.  The driver spotted us and redoubled his efforts.  He tried to build as much power as possible before roaring up the sand.  I could not believe how high he managed to get this time, much further than on previous attempts.  He was almost at the top before the engine lost momentum and he went into a powerful side-slide.  He waved merrily at us and flashed his headlights.  We laughed and waved back, before suddenly realising with horror that the vehicle was on a direct collision course with Edward, sat alone and defenceless in the sand.  I leapt to my feet and covered my mouth with my hands, my eyes staring at the nightmare scene unfolding in front of me.  There was nothing we could do, Edward could not move out of the way in time.  It was all happening so fast that time seemed to slow down.  I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.  I was afraid to open them; I did not want to see the bloody, mangled body of my friend below me on the sand.  What had started as a fun picnic in the dunes was turning into a terrible tragedy.