‘No, I’d better hold on to this one. Thanks so much,’ gushed Veetie, unused to such gallantry, especially from such an attractive, distinguished-looking man. She collapsed in a seat near him, pretending to watch i surreptitiously stealing long glances at him, admiA patrician nose and creamy exotic colouring. Perha^ was Spanish, or South American - but his English \ perfect and unaccented, unless received pronunciation counted as an accent. Maybe he was Indian? Although so correct and poised, he wasn’t very much older than her -maybe in his mid forties, or perhaps even younger. She noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Rashid would later say that it was Fate that had led him to love - Fate (and not frugality caused by squeezed corporate travel budgets) that had forced him to make this inexplicable airline interchange so close to his destination, Fate (and not rudeness on the part of her colleagues) that had Ms Trueman carrying excess hand-baggage to the Business Class lounge long before her plane was due, and Fate (not the location of the TV) that he had been sitting near enough to overhear her plight and help her.

In fact, when spinning this romantic tale, Rashid would conveniently forget that despite all this intervention from Fate, once he had helped Veetie with her bags he had not been interested enough by the timid smile on her flushed face, nor in the thin figure not set to advantage by a creased high street suit, to take any further notice of her beyond a polite nod once she took her seat. Despite all the best intentions of Fate, aided by budget restrictions in his own company, and regrettable chauvinism in Ms True-man’s, Rashid would have sat opposite the future love of his life and simply ignored her. He would have dropped his eyes back to his paper, sinking behind its peach-coloured safety and then left to get his plane. Fortunately for Rashid, Veetie no longer believed in fate and took some action for herself.