“Ma’am,” a soft voice says. I am being gently shaken. Cracking open an eyelid I see that one of the flight attendants is leaning over me, a concerned frown on her face.

“Yes?”

“We have landed.”

I smile and then realise that the rest of the plane is quiet. There is no one else left.

“I am sorry,” I say.

“Not to worry. You were out for the count.”

I nod and stand straightening my grey pencil skirt. “It’s been a long couple of days.” I reach up and grab my bag and jacket. Ineffectually I run a hand down my blouse, but the dusty pink shirt looks like I slept in it. Which I have, but I do wish that I’d worn something that didn’t look quite so rumpled.

“What’s the time?” I ask.

The woman looks at me with a sort of blank expression. Then it is as…

“Are we there yet?”

I wince from the constant barrage of children’s screams and cries. I do understand that families have to go on holiday, but why do they insist on taking the red-eye plane? I’d even asked the woman next to me.

“Why the red-eye with kids?”

She had glared at me. “It’s cheaper.”

I had mumbled something and turned away. Since then she hadn’t even acknowledged my existence, despite the fact she sat next to me. No, actually that was wrong, a couple of elbows timed to stutter across my ribs suggested that she knew I was there, and she was choosing to remind me that in a few words I had been able to make her hate me. It’s a gift that I have and that I use without realising it. Honestly, I am an easy going woman who likes to get on with people. It’s just…