'Mum! Mum!'

Carolyn sighed as she looked up, pulling her reading glasses from her face. 'Yes, dear heart?'

'Mum, this is BRILLIANT' Arthur was excitedly bouncing round the porta-cabin, attempting to tidy but, as always making more mess than there was to start with. Carolyn watched her son, exasperated. He was like a rocket when he got this excited. Indeed until he was about six, she thought she may really have given birth to a rocket.

Arthur was still babbling,' I mean, a REAL SPY. On our aeroplane. Wow. Will he be in disguise? Will he be,' Arthur put his hands together to make a pretend gun, 'the man with the golden gun! Will he have a hat?'

Carolyn, used to her son's excitement, had gone back to her paper work; bank statements, and worrying bank statements at that. 'Probably darling, but not as good as yours.'

Arthur could not remember being this excited and that, for Arthur, was a big deal. For the sake of her sanity Carolyn had left telling Arthur the news that they would be flying a member of MI6 out to Northern Africa until the very last moment. His reaction had been worse than she had feared. Carolyn had not seen him this excited since he had realised that the 'Lady on the stamps' was a real person.

'What's his name agai...whoops!' Arthur had just dropped a very large pile of papers everywhere.

'Arthur! Do calm down and do try to be careful.' Carolyn left her calculations to hurry around the desk and kneel with Arthur to tidy up the avalanche of flight plans, weather reports and financial statements. 'His name is Mr Grey. And you cannot be this excited when he arrives, Arthur. The government is paying us a lot of money to fly him, and to, God help us, be professional.' She put a lot of emphasis on the last word.

'Mumm,' Arthur said smiling. 'Of course I will be professional. I've got a hat.'

Before Carolyn could say the obvious, the door to the crew's porta-cabin opened letting in a blast of cold winter air that knocked all of the now tidy papers back into a muddle.

'Now now,' came a drawling voice,' I know you are in awe of me but, really there is no need to kneel at my feet.'

Carolyn shot a look at Douglas that could well have killed a lesser man. 'Less of the smart comments please, First Officer. Now, help me to my feet.'

'By all means,' as Douglas lent down and helped Carolyn back into a more dignified position Arthur suddenly stopped tiding, gazing at the piece of paper in his hand. His eyebrows knotted, and he looked down confused, 'Mum? What's going 'to be repossessed'?'

'Arthur! Give me that and give me that now.' Carolyn nearly shouted, urgency plain in her voice, as her face went pale.

'Sure,' shrugged Arthur, who has already lost interest. Douglas eyed Carolyn suspiciously, but her thunderous face clearly signalled that the conversation was closed. Douglas had learnt, over many years, and many incidents that a cross Carolyn was not someone to push.

The First Officer threw himself into the arm chair in the corner of the cabin. He had insisted upon it years ago when he first started with MJN; everyman needs somewhere to read his paper. 'So, he here yet?'

'No not until four...Arthur keep tidying, it will help to contain your excitement!'

'Sorry Mum.'

Douglas looked aghast. 'Not till four! But you told me to be here for three and thus here I am...'

'... At three thirty. Yes, I did because we cannot delay Mr Grey at all, and I did not want to take the risk of you sauntering onto the plane late, as you always do.'

'So where is Martin?' Douglas looked around as though the Captain might be hiding somewhere in the tiny cabin, 'late?'

'No, I told him to be here at 4.'

'But that's not fair!'

'Douglas,' Carolyn breathed, 'Martin couldn't be late if there were an apocalypse on the M42. (Arthur, put your hand down! we are all too well aware that you know what that word means now, thank you) You Douglas, on the other hand, were probably late to your own birth.'

'Not late, never late. Politely timed I would prefer to say. Why are you so worried about this chap anyway? Don't tell me it's because he's a spy'. The last syllable was dripping in sarcasm.

'No, I'm not Arthur! No, it's just the government is giving us rather a lot of money and they may give us more contracts and well, we could use the mon...' But she cut off there. 'And it's none of your business. I can tell you to arrive whatever time I like. As it says on the tail, it is MY Jet.' Carolyn blushed a deep red.

'Sorry, mighty ruler, it was wrong of me to ask.'

Carolyn said nothing, returning to her desk and papers. Douglas stood up 'well, seeing as we have an hour I will just...stay here.' He threw himself back into the chair, deciding that no cup of coffee was worth the pain the look Carolyn just gave him implied. There was a moments silence as two of them sat in thought and Arthur sat in excitement.

'Arthur! If you do not stop that infernal tapping I will throw you from this Cabin.'

'Sorry Mum' Arthur stopped taping his feet, 'I'm just so excited!'

'Arthur,' Douglas sighed. 'When are you not excited?' Arthur went silent for a moment at that.

'Well...'

'It was a rhetorical question dear.' Carolyn muttered sharply. 'Oh, for God's sake, find something to do. NO, not tidying; something you can do without parental supervision.'

Douglas reached into his pocket,' I know, Arthur. Catch.'

Unbelievably, Arthur did so, and gazed in wonder at the object now in his hand. 'Wow, a Rubix cube, thanks Douglas.'

'No problem, I can't do the infernal thing any way.'

'Something that you CAN'T do Douglas. Are you sure?' Douglas batted away Carolyn's sarcasm. 'No time for that sort of thing. Go for it Arthur. It's a childs toy anyway.'

'But I'm not a child.' Arthur had started clacking the squares round the cube.

'Arthur, what did you get for your Birthday last week?'

'Guess Who and Harry Potter 7. The film though, not the book. It's brilliant.' And so he had. They had all spent the evening at the Knapp-Shappy residence watching Harry Potter while Arthur ate more sugar than an adult male should consume in a year. Unfortunately, an unseasonable amount of snow had kept them all confined for an impromptu sleepover which Arthur had also, unsurprisingly, found brilliant.

'You see my point?' Carolyn stifled a giggle.

'Yeah, but it would be silly to ask for things I didn't want.' Douglas sighed at Arthur and opened the paper.

All went quite again as Arthur concentrated, tongue stuck out, on the little cube. Carolyn looked at her twenty-nine year old son, sat cross legged on the rug concentrating on a toy and sighed. She really did love him.

While she was distracted watching Arthur, Douglas gently turned the top piece of paper on her desk and read it once. It was the one Arthur had noticed. A flash of worry crossed his face but, before he could so much as open his mouth, the sound of wild running came from outside the door on the runway. In barrelled a small, very red faced man, panting, who toppled straight over the seated Arthur and landed with a thump, sprawled on the floor. 'OW!' Martin hastily picked himself up, placed his captain's hat back on his head, and spluttered 'Am I late? I'm late. Oh God what's the time?'

'Calm down Mr Wolf!' Carolyn shouted over his ramblings. 'You're not late. He isn't even here yet. Oh Martin, your lip!' Martin dabbed a hand gingerly at his face and it came away bloody.

'Oh, Okay. Sorry Arthur.'

'S'Okay Skip. It'll only be a little bruise. And at least it wasn't my right leg' He was rubbing his shin where Martin had barrelled into him. To the quizzical look Martin gave him, 'well that's my stronger leg and what if I needed to play football?' He said it like it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

'Arthur, you have never played football in your life...' Before Arthur could respond to his Mother, the phone in the cabin rang.

'Yes,' Carolyn had picked up the receiver. 'Yes of course, Mr Grey, we will be ready for takeoff in half an hour. Something to carry? Yes, yes, I will send a member of the cabin crew to help. Of course. Goodbye.'

She placed the phone down, her face grave. 'Right Gentlemen and Arthur, this flight is important. We are not going to mess it up, understand. No games, no emergency landings, no poisoning the passengers' ('that was one time Muuum') 'and NO getting too excited. I'm looking at you Arthur and Martin.'

'What, me over excited, Carolyn please,' Martin stuttered.

'Martin, please, you have called me every day for the last week to check that you aren't going to be late.' Douglas snorted but Carolyn ignored him. 'Now, look professional, and most importantly, look normal.' She gazed at her crew; one of whom was holding a Rubix cube, still rubbing his shin, one who was bright red, with his Captain's hat fixed at a jaunty angle on his head and a bleeding lip, and one, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, a smug smile on his face. 'God help us.'