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.

I had been in that cabin for about nine seconds.

A scene. There was no scene. There was a woman standing in an aisle with a bag on her shoulder saying nothing at all.

He named a thing that had not happened, in front of eleven people, and by naming it he created the version of the morning everybody would carry off that aircraft.

PART 3

There were about twenty people close enough to hear everything, and she got hold of my wrist and said:

Go back to row five. Remember your place.

Nobody moved. Somebody put a glass down on a table.

She did not let go. She leaned in and said: he said row five.

That is the detail I want on the page, because people keep getting it wrong when they retell this.

It was not my husband who took hold of me.

It was a twenty-nine-year-old employee, in front of eleven members of his executive team, with his mother standing behind me — and not one person in that cabin reacted as though she had overstepped.