Hi, there!’ The voice rang out from several rows back and a waving hand shot up in the air. ‘You’ve discovered my little secret. Come and join me,’ he boomed.
I smiled weakly, thought briefly about letting the curtain drop back and retreating into the crowded safety of business class, then realized it was all a little too late. A nano-second of recognition had given me away and there was no exit. I bit the bullet, strode over to Steven and shook him warmly by the hand. It was, after all, only a 40 minute flight. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad?
‘Good to see you,’ I lied and settled into the seat at the end of his row. As usual on these early morning flights there was hardly anyone in economy class. The few red-eyed tourists who had failed to book onto flights at a more agreeable hour all sat squashed together in the first few rows where their boarding passes had herded them. They looked a little confused. Still, on the plus side, it meant they hadn’t fallen victim to Steven.
As far as I was concerned there was only one thing you needed to know about Steven: avoid him. He was a consummate bore, a true master of the art. I suspected that it was the only thing he was good at but had never given him enough of a chance to prove otherwise. Maybe this was it.
‘I’ve been nipping in here on these early-morners for some time,’ said Steven, delighted that he could share his ‘discovery’ with someone else. I clenched my arm rests and maintained my smile. ‘Never anyone in here. I still pay business class, of course, in case any last minute deal crops up and I have to switch. It also protects against the minor danger of any riff-raff being up at this time and gives you an escape route. I just move in here once we’re up and away and settle myself in. Loads of space you see…’
This was going to be worse than I thought. I let Steven drone on and pondered on his existence. It was little wonder that business class remained packed while Steven sat in economy – it was similar to osmosis. The idea of him being brought in on any last minute deal was laughable. He was well known in London’s financial community and most took a similar approach to myself. In fact, I suspected that was why he was on this flight – not knowing any better, a continental European agency had rescued him from enforced early retirement.
‘…only difference is plastic cutlery, rather than metal. I mean even someone of my stature can put up with some discomforts, eh?’ I’d received a hearty slap on the shoulder before I had a chance to comment and he was off again. It looked like this was going to be the topic of conversation all the way to London. ‘…and you often get your food before those chaps up front because, you see, there are fewer of us in here for those lovely hostess friends of ours to have to deal with.’
Steven broke off his spiel for a second to return a smile from one of his ‘lovely friends’ who he’d ensured heard his last comment. I noted that the hostess’s smile looked even more suspect than my original greeting but it passed Steven by. He was onto business.
‘…incredibly busy. I mean incredibly busy. Hardly had time to get my feet under the desk. These guys have been calling on me left, right and center. I seem to spend an awful lot of time at airports nowadays. I suppose you reach a certain level and everyone wants you and you’ve just got to be there on the spot…’
I gave a silent chuckle. It seemed that Steven’s new employers had already discovered what everyone else knew. His fame was spreading across the Continent. Their tactic was obviously to shuffle him around between offices, leaving as little time as possible for him to do any real damage. They would put up with him for a short while, to save face – theirs – before suggesting that such a punishing schedule might not be good for him any more. Then it would be up to some other agency to catch the hot potato.
‘…have to queue in order to get the food. Outrageous! I mean in a business lounge! And I thought of writing a letter direct to Bob. Do you know Bob? I’ve known him for several years. Great chap…’
