Flying private with company: the quiet airfields, the manifest and the steps up

Most private flights out of London leave from somewhere other than Heathrow. Farnborough, in Hampshire, handles business aviation and nothing else, and its terminal, under a roof shaped like a wing, feels closer to a hotel than to an airport. Biggin Hill, on the high ground beyond Bromley, was a fighter station in the Battle of Britain and now sends business jets across Europe from the same runway. Luton and Stansted keep private terminals of their own, and London City takes smaller jets within sight of the towers at Canary Wharf.

Which airfield your operator chooses depends on the aircraft, the destination and the hour. From the quarter around Dover Street, Farnborough is a drive down the M3, usually about an hour when the roads are clear. Biggin Hill lies to the south east, through the suburbs, and the traffic decides how long it takes. Octavia builds the drive into the plan either way.

Nothing in a private terminal is designed to hurry anyone. There is a lounge, usually a coffee machine operated by somebody else, and a handful of other passengers with no interest in you. Security and passports are handled in a small room, often in minutes. At some airfields a car may be permitted close to the aircraft; ask the operator rather than assume.

For a companion it is the gentlest possible start. She arrives by car, gives her name at the desk as a passenger and waits in the lounge, or arrives with you if you have shared the drive. Nobody enquires what the trip is for.

Every international private flight carries a passenger list. For flights leaving or entering the United Kingdom, the operator or pilot files a General Aviation Report with Border Force in advance, listing each person on board with their passport details. Your companion appears on it exactly as her passport shows her: full name, date of birth, document number. There is no box for why a passenger is travelling, and no need for one.

Octavia sends those details to you, or straight to the operator if you prefer, once the flight is confirmed and not before. They serve the manifest and nothing else. Some operators ask earlier than usual for certain destinations; pass the deadline to Octavia and she will meet it.

A light jet's baggage hold is small, oddly shaped and unforgiving of hard cases. Soft holdalls fit where rigid suitcases do not, and crews quietly prefer them. Your companion packs this way without being told, provided she knows the aircraft is small, so mention the type if you know it. A midsize or large cabin changes the answer.

An evening gown travels flat in a larger aircraft and folded in a smaller one. If the destination holds a gala, a wedding or a dinner that asks for something long, say so in the plan, so she can decide how best to carry it.

A private departure follows your timetable far more closely than an airline's does, but not entirely. Busy airfields allocate take-off slots, crews work to limits on their duty hours, and fog at either end can hold an aircraft on the ground. Farnborough also hosts its international airshow each July in even-numbered years, when the airfield gives itself over to a week of trade and display; ask the operator how that affects a departure before fixing a date that week.

The simplest rule is this: ask the operator what time to be at the terminal, and pass that time to Octavia unchanged. Your companion arrives by it, and anything that moves afterwards moves for both of you.

A private cabin is a room with a crew in it. The courtesies are those of any small room where staff are present.

Arrivals are as quiet as departures. The car you have arranged waits outside the terminal, and the first evening at the destination is best kept simple. From the moment the wheels touch, the conventions of the international travel companion apply.

Some guests fly out and back in a day: lunch by the lake in Geneva, a sale in Paris, and home by midnight. That can be arranged as well, and Octavia quotes it once she knows the hours involved.

Samanta, Octavia's first name for any journey, keeps a list of hotel staircases and is quietly delighted by an aircraft's. Laura travels with one soft bag, and with skis when the destination has snow; she belongs to the toned and athletic companions and treats an early departure as nothing unusual. Stacy, very tall and deadpan, snowboards in winter and suits a short hop to the Alps, with a street camera reserved for the view from the window.

Any flight that keeps her away overnight is priced as a weekend, from £6,000, and the frame is set out under the travel companion. Shorter lengths appear on the rates page. Send the airfield, the date and the wheels-up time through booking, and Octavia builds the day around them.