Chapter 1

It was thirty minutes past nine in the morning. I have just gotten out of the train and rushed to my boarding gate to catch my ten forty-five flight to Stockholm.

I was running late. I was supposed to be at the airport two hours earlier. There were seven people waiting for me at the lounge, sipping flutes of Veuve Clicquot, devouring a saucer of cashews and almonds. I quickly strutted towards the couch they occupied. The mood was celebratory as if we have already accomplished what we were intending to do. I entered the lounge with only ten minutes to indulge before our flight was called to board. It wasn’t enough time to spoil myself with a glass so instead, I grabbed a handful of macadamias. The nuts left a smudge of grease on my palm, so I discreetly wipe my hand on the leg of my trousers before pulling my boarding pass from my pocket.

Our flight was soon called so we formed a queue for the business cabin, but before we handed our passports over to be scanned under the large screen that says our flight number and destination, my boss made a detour to speak to a girl seated with the rest of the passengers. I double-take and noticed my boss handing her two folders before making his way back to our line.

I was curious, but before I could make sense of the situation the attendant greets me and asked for my boarding pass. “Good morning Mr Maclarent.”

I walked along the airbridge with the rest of the team in front of me, my boss a few meters behind me. I gazed around to look for my seat, 4A. I stow my satchel and thank the crew for bringing me a glass of Clicquot I didn’t get to enjoy at the lounge. After I fastened my seatbelt, I immediately fell into a half-daze as we began to taxi.

When the seatbelt sign was switched off, I went up to go to the toilet a few rows behind me next to the premium economy section. After only a few steps, I again saw the girl my boss was talking to seated next to the aisle. She was talking to another lady next to her, probably in her 50s.

When I got out of the loo, my boss was standing in that aisle next to her, laughing silently in an effort not to disturb the few other passengers around them. Her shiny brown hair was tied in a pony and she wore a denim jacket with a striped blue and white dress underneath. Wrapped around her neck was a black pashmina. I headed back to my seat still wondering.

When brunch service began, the crew started to walk around and hand out the menus. I opted for a smoked salmon salad as well as a glass of ginger ale and one gin and tonic. The cabin was filled with the delicious smell of hot food and soon my tray table didn’t have enough space for the extra sourdough slice I requested.

While I tried to take a mouthful of salmon on a bed of lettuce on my sourdough, the girl walked past, glanced at my stuffed face. She made a small nod with a slight smirk, almost like a subtle laugh at my embarrassed face. She continued to walk through the cabin where my boss was seated, two rows in front of me, and handed back the folders my boss gave her earlier.

My eyes followed her as she headed back to her seat, completely ignoring me on her way. When it was finally time for dessert, I took my small cup of chocolate ice cream, stowed my table and walked up to where my boss was seated.

“This ice cream is so good, mind if I take yours?” I jested.

“Hands off.” He light-heartedly replied.

“So that girl at the back, is she on the team?” I asked while I took a spoon of ice cream.

“Ah, Julia, no she’s from TreeHouse.”

I headed back to my seat and push the lever up to recline my seat by just a few inches. I turned my laptop on, connected to the wifi, and began to peruse my emails, searching for her name possibly copied in one of my letters.

There she was, Julia Peters. Marketing Manager, TreeHouse.

I was surprised and honestly somewhat daunted to know she was on the flight, I was not looking forward to the day I’d meet her.

Julia is the Marketing Manager of TreeHouse. I hold the same title for Idées. We were flying to Stockholm that morning to finalise the merging of the two advertising agencies.

I shut my laptop and put it back inside my bag while rubbing my weary eyes and asked for another glass of gin and tonic. The merger meant that only one of us could keep the title. I had only been in the role for two years while she had been climbing the company’s ladder for the past seven.

I stared outside the window, watched as we fly above a spread of white cloud lumps. I can see the horizon from my seat but the glare was so painful that I pulled the blind down halfway. “Jacque, let’s go to the back and introduce you to Julia”, says my boss, surprisingly standing beside me.