The Winner Stands Alone. Paulo Coelho

must have been attacked by monsters that left it deaf and took away its wings.’

       Feeling sorry for the mouse, the seagull picked it up in its beak and took it for a ride in the skies. ‘It's probably homesick,’ the seagull thought while they were flying. Then, very carefully, it deposited the mouse once more on the ground.

       For some months afterwards, the mouse was sunk in gloom; it had known the heights and seen a vast and beautiful world. However, in time, it grew accustomed to being just a mouse again and came to believe that the miracle that had occurred in its life was nothing but a dream.

      This was a story from her childhood, but right now, she's up in the sky: she can see the turquoise sea, the luxurious yachts, the people small as ants below, the marquees on the beach, the hills, the horizon to her left, beyond which lay Africa and all its problems.

      The ground is approaching fast. ‘It's best to view humankind from on high,’ she thinks. ‘Only then can we see how very small we are.’

      Ewa seems bored, either that or nervous. Hamid never really knows what's going on in his wife's head, even though they've been together for more than two years now. Cannes, it's true, is a trial for everyone concerned, but he can't leave the Festival any earlier than planned. Besides, she should be used to all this because the life of her ex-husband hadn't been so very different, with suppers to attend, events to organise and having constantly to change country, continent and language.

      ‘Was she always like this or is it that she doesn't love me as much as she did at first?’

      A forbidden thought. Concentrate on other things, please.

      The noise of the engine doesn't allow for conversation, unless you use the headphones with the microphone attached. Ewa hasn't even picked hers up from the hook beside her seat. Not that there's any point asking her to put them on so that he can tell her for the thousandth time that she's the most important woman in his life and that he'll do his best to make sure she enjoys the week at this her first Cannes Festival. The sound system on board is set up so that every conversation can be overheard by the pilot, and Ewa hates public displays of affection.

      There they are, in that glass bubble, just about to touch down. He can see the huge white car, a Maybach, the most expensive and most sophisticated in the world. Even more exclusive than Rolls-Royce. Soon they'll be sitting inside, listening to some relaxing music and drinking iced champagne or mineral water.

      He consults his platinum watch, which is a certified copy of one of the first models produced in a small workshop in the town of Schaffhausen. Women can get away with spending a fortune on diamonds, but a watch is the only piece of jewellery allowed to a man of good taste, and only the true cognoscenti knew the significance of that watch, which was rarely advertised in the glossy magazines.

      That could be a definition of true sophistication: knowing where to find the very best even if other people have never heard of it, and producing the very best too, regardless of what others might say.

      It was already nearly two o'clock in the afternoon, and he needed to talk to his stockbroker in New York before trading opened on the stock exchange. When he arrived, he would make a call - just one - with his instructions for the day. Making money at the ‘casino’, as he called the investment funds, was not his favourite sport; however, he had to pretend to be keeping an eye on what his managers and financial engineers were up to. He could rely on the protection, support and vigilance of the sheikh, but nevertheless he had to demonstrate that he was up to date on what was happening.