He comes to sit back down and Maya climbs onto my lap.
‘I’m Maya. What’s that tattoo on your tummy?’ she asks.
I guess now is as good a time as any to find out if he likes kids or not.
‘Umm, wow. It’s a tiger.’
‘Why a tiger?’
‘I thought it’d be cool.’
‘Tigers are cool. They’re cooler than goats.’
‘That is very true, Maya.’
‘Sorry about her,’ I interject. ‘Just tell her your life story now and then she’ll leave you be.’
‘Don’t apologise. My name is Max. Max and Maya – we could be a really good pop group.’
This impresses Maya less, who seems a bit dubious at the thought.
‘Maybe but you’d have to lose the ponytail,’ she says.
We are lucky this makes him laugh, quite hard. He takes out his hairband and shakes his mane out. He’s one of those annoying men who has a wave to his hair, something that takes me hundreds of pounds’ worth of product and equipment to achieve.
‘You not a fan then, Maya?’
She shrugs. I’ve always liked the way Maya does this. She likes to give people the once-over, work them out and, like her sister, she does not hold back from telling them what she thinks.
‘Are you going on holiday?’ she asks.
‘I am. I am going to see a friend of mine who lives in Singapore and then we are going to Koh Samui.’
‘That’s in Thailand,’ Maya says. Max seems impressed by her knowledge. ‘We’re going to Kota Kinabalu to see monkeys.’
‘Wow, very cool.’
‘It is. And how old are you?’ she asks.
‘I am thirty.’
‘Are you married?’ she asks.
‘MAYA!’ I turn to Max. ‘I’m sorry… she’s not done that before. Maya?’
He chuckles. ‘Well, you’re very forward for one so young, but I’m not married.’
‘I wasn’t asking for me, silly. I was asking for my mum.’
I don’t know what colour my face turns now but it’s between red and reddest.
‘I really am sorry,’ I explain. I’m going to have to sit next to this man for twelve hours. This is why Emma suggested I give the girls a light sedative for this flight, wasn’t it? I squirm in my seat a little.
‘Is your mum looking for a husband?’ he asks, trying his best to spare my blushes.
‘I don’t know but I like you. You look like that man from that film. The swimming man.’
‘Who?’ I say.
