It was true, Jim knew. He had deliberately avoided looking, since the last thing he had wanted was to watch Matt’s planes when he had just lost the auction for his own. Turning the magnification up to full he surveyed the aircraft, the eight propellers gleaming before four engines. The faded grey livery showed that this was an old, old, lady, and yet she still looked ready to fly. As he looked along the wing he stifled a chuckle. Matt was already up on a stepladder with a bucket and cleaning supplies, attacking the grime on the grey surface. Then Jim suddenly realised –

“Hold on. That means you already knew I lost.” Jim lowered the binoculars and gave his brother an accusing glare.