‘Hoppy?’

‘Because of the leg,’ she said kindly, as if he was a bit thick. She smiled down at the little dog in her arms and then checked out the plane. She seemed almost overwhelmed by its opulence, swallowing a couple of times like she was trying to dredge up courage. But somehow she made her voice light and smiley. ‘Wow,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve hardly ever flown before. Surely they can’t all be like this?’

‘No,’ Nick said. They certainly weren’t. The two double settees that were the airline’s only passenger seats were more luxurious than any seat he’d ever been in. They were fitted with seat belts, but that was their only concession to airline strictures. There was white shag-pile carpet. There were tiny side-tables with indents to hold wine glasses-all carved from the one magnificent piece of mahogany. A partition at the rear led to a bedroom-he could see a magnificent bed set up, ready for use. The entire interior was painted white with muted pinks, with soft hangings disguising the harsh outer casing of the airline’s metal cabin.

This was definitely not cattle class.

But Rose had moved on, shrugging off her discomfort with her coat. She placed the little dog on the seat beside him. Griswold-who’d spoken hardly at all since Nick had come aboard-took her coat and smiled down at Hoppy.

‘Le chien a faim? Peut-être il voudrait un petit morceau de biftek?’

‘Hoppy would very much like a biftek,’ Rose said, and beamed at the man. ‘Moi aussi. Oui. Merci beaucoup.’

‘Et pour la madame, du champagne?’

‘Ooh, yes. Oui. Merci, merci, merci.’ She lifted her dog back into her arms, sank down into the seat beside Nick and giggled. ‘Isn’t this fabulous?’

The dog only had three legs. Hoppy. Yep, he had it. He was right on the ball today. If only she didn’t smile so much.

‘Do you suppose there’d be caviar if I asked for it?’ she said, and he decided to stop the fatuousness and try and be serious.