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.

Which tells you everything about what had been said in that company about me, by somebody, over some period of time.

She did not invent her own standing.

A twenty-nine-year-old does not take hold of the principal shareholder's wrist on a company aircraft on her own initiative. There is no world in which that is a risk anybody takes unprompted.

She was behaving exactly as licensed, and the licence had been issued somewhere, by somebody, over eleven months — and nobody in that cabin found it surprising, which is the actual finding.

I stepped back and picked up my bag off that armrest.

My hands were steady, which I noticed at the time and which has bothered me since more than almost anything else.

There was no seat on that aircraft worth another argument about whether my husband could treat me with respect.

I said: I know where I belong. I'm not going to fight you over a chair.