Well, how can I not be lonely, after all those years alone? Long days of toiling with no one to confide in, only a sad father who hardly acknowledged my presence after Mum died. But I muddled through it, didn’t I? And all the while, I kept myself limber for the day Jamie and I would fly again.

I dab my eyes, my anger petered out. We never stayed angry with each other for long. Mum wouldn’t let us. Don’t spend too long looking behind you, or you’ll miss out on what’s ahead, I hear her say with a cluck of her tongue.

Despite promising to keep my chin tucked, I decide to pay Jamie another visit. I dress in one of Mrs. Sloane’s boring brown dresses and tie on the garden-hoe hat.

Someone knocks. I steal to the door, not breathing.

“Hello? Is anyone there? It’s April Hart. Don’t be afraid. I’d like to talk to you.”

It’s the American who saved my Queen Mum on the well deck. A warning bell sounds in my head. There’s no chance I’m going to answer this door.

“It’s Valora Luck, isn’t it?”

I cringe. She must have remembered my name from the gangway. She might as well bang the brass bell they keep in the crow’s nest. Especially with Mr. Ismay right down the hall.

“Are you in there, Miss Luck?”

Before she calls my name a third time, I wrench open the door. “It’s Mrs. Sloane. May I help you?”

Lime-green silk pours over Miss Hart’s slender figure, interrupted only by a navy silk sash slung low across her hips. A headband with a single peacock feather cinches her short hair in place. What a simple but bold hair accessory. In her hand, she carries a suitcase made from some reptile’s skin, probably one of those alligator monsters from America.

With an unimpressed tilt of her fine-boned face, she reaches out and lifts my veil.

I jerk back. “How dare you!”

“Oh, I dare a lot of things.” She smiles. Her eyes glitter like two pieces of amber that trap more light the longer you study them. She marches right in with her suitcase as if she is boarding a train. The scent of her cigarettes and something musky follows her. She looks around her. “Nice. Very Empire-style. I prefer a more modern design, myself. Doesn’t catch so much dust. Obviously, they didn’t get a woman’s opinion.”

I close the door and hurry after her.

She slinks around the room like a fox, sliding out drawers, peering into the wardrobe. “That was a skillful bit of climbing you did. How’d your limbs get so bendy?”