Rory blinked. “Is that legal?”

“I’m not sure,” Martin said. “Less illegal than some of the other things that go on around here.”

“Which reminds me,” Rory said, dropping his voice again. “Paul asked me to come ask if you’re all right. He said your mobile’s been shut off again. I guess, if you’re looking, he might be able to get you an interview for a firm that works out of Heathrow. And with Edwin finally moving out, I’m pretty sure Estelle’s due for another mid-life crisis and could do with having someone else around the house.”

Martin focused on his paperwork, trying to appear as though he were seriously concentrating on it, rather than seriously contemplating the offer.

“I do still have a couple of weeks to figure out what to do,” he said after a moment.

“Oh, Martin.You didn’t. Again?” Rory sighed and snatched Martin’s pen away.

Martin cringed. “Don’t tell your dad,” he all but pleaded. “He’s got enough going on without having to worry about me, I’m sure.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve eaten today, either,” Rory said, somehow managing to keep all criticism from his voice. Martin wasn’t sure whether to love him or hate him for that ability.

Without waiting for a response, he reached for a notepad and wrote down his mobile number, followed by Phone this number for Martin.

“I’m sure we can find something around here. Come on.”

Martin wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Rory that he was fine and that the situation really wasn’t as bad as it looked.

He also really wanted to get something to eat, so he got up to follow Rory to the canteen inside the terminal. Martin let his cousin buy him a sandwich and a Pepsi, and had almost managed to calm down about having to let Rory do so in the first place when Douglas came striding past after chatting up the woman who ran the till.

For a moment, he thought Douglas was going to ignore him, but it was a brief, fleeting moment that ended with the first officer stopping to stare.

“Why, Martin,” he said. “I had no idea you came in pairs. I do hope he’s not a pilot as well, or the skies may never be safe again.”

Martin sighed. “No, this is my cousin, Rory.”

Rory smiled awkwardly. “I’m not a pilot. I don’t even have a driving license.”

“How on Earth do you manage?” Douglas asked dryly. “A bit difficult to pull with tube tickets, I’d imagine.”

Martin buried his face in his free hand. Rory gave Douglas a mildly disgusted look.

“I rely on a little thing called personality,” he said. “You should try it some time.”

Douglas raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, my mistake,” he said. “You’re nothing at all like Martin.”