"You'd have found something, I don't doubt. Different kind of flight, perhaps. Something adventurous." As she spoke, Una heard a faint echo of another speculative conversation along similar lines. "Some of us are born with that drive in our blood, and it will out, one way or the other."

She smiled fondly. "That we do. For all the chaos in the rest of our lives, we're lucky, in a strange sort of way." And a sudden longing for them clamped down on her heart, and she wanted nothing more than to be sitting in the Derry and Tom's roof garden, sometime in 1938, having tea with Catherine and—

Her gaze dropped, and for a moment she almost couldn't breathe.