I boarded my husband's private jet and his secretary was in my seat, feeding him peeled orange. His mother told me to be considerate. I stepped off. Then the crew asked whether I wanted the flight cancelled.

And then, near the cabin door, a flight attendant came quickly towards me, with two more behind her.

She said: ma'am, would you like us to cancel the flight?

Not are you all right. Not can I get you anything.

A procedural question, asked correctly, by somebody who had made a decision about which of two people on that aircraft she worked for.

I looked at the gold emblem on her uniform.

It is my family's aviation company. It has been on that uniform the entire time, on every crew member, on every flight, for two years.

Nobody in that cabin had ever looked at it. Including me, properly, in a way that meant anything, until a woman in a navy jacket stood in front of me and asked a question that only made sense if she knew.

He has used that aircraft for almost two years, calling it his corporate jet, and billing the hours to a cost centre.