The diner was a well-known hangout for pilots that worked at the Gilligan air field down the road. It was old but well-maintained by the Franks who'd owned the place since they'd set up business soon after the Second World War. The late Teddy Franks had been a veteran pilot; his son Junior was also ex-air force. Teddy's widow, Marnie, did the baked goods; Junior ran the grill with his son Hank; his younger son, Billy who had some kind of mental deficiency that people spoke about in whispers, washed dishes and swept floors. Junior's wife had upped and left him with the boys years before; Hank's wife worked the tables with extra help from the occasional young woman who happened into Gilly Pass.

Sarah Hardy had gotten the history lesson within thirty minutes of setting foot in the diner with her son almost six months before. She figured Lou had hoped she might be one of the 'occasional young women' because the dyed-blonde waitress had looked exhausted when she'd relayed the information in between pouring coffee, taking the order and placing the food – two burgers dripping with juices and relish, and fat crispy yellow fries – in front of Sarah and her ravenous son. She'd had to dash Lou's hopes of another waitress when Sarah had asked if any of the air services were hiring. Lou had begun to explain they all didn't need a receptionist, probably an opener to offering the waitressing, when Sarah had interrupted and told her she was looking for work as a pilot. The look of shock on Lou's face had been a picture. It was something Sarah had gotten used to; a twenty-three year old pretty brunette with startling blue eyes and a curvy figure probably didn't scream pilot as a choice of career. Her young son had snorted at the resigned sigh that had escaped Sarah's lips.

Salvation had come in the shape of a wily old goat called Herman Bent. Herman had been Teddy Frank's best friend; he ran a small air service on the far side of the Gilligan air field. He'd claimed he had no use for a woman pilot but he could do with a mechanic. Sarah had bargained; she'd work on the air craft but she got to fly them, at least a couple of jobs a week, she needed the flight time. Herman had acquiesced far too quickly for Sarah's comfort even when she'd added she'd only work for cash and when she'd taken a look at his air craft, she knew why. Herman had three planes and an A-10 chopper that had seen better days. The planes flew; just. The chopper had needed work, the better part of several days, before Sarah had got it in the air.

The other two male pilots at Herman's were a father and son combo that had set Sarah's teeth on edge at first being that they were both out and out male chauvinist pigs. She'd put up with the comments and not-so-unintentional feel-ups in the first week and gritted her teeth. In the second week, Jethro Junior had cornered her in the small locker room at the back of the hangar and put his hands on her breasts. She'd kneed him in the balls like her Daddy had taught her and looked up to find Herman watching from the doorway. He'd nodded as though in satisfaction and told her that since his pilot was indisposed, he guessed she was taking the cargo run. Sarah had waited until the plane was airborne before she let loose a grin that felt like it had been waiting a hundred years to be released. They'd all treated her with some respect after that and six months later the small team at Herman's had formed something of a camaraderie that Sarah knew she was going to miss when she moved on just like she was going to miss the food at the diner, she thought, as she slipped into the first open booth.

'Your usual, hon?' Lou yelled from the counter.

Sarah nodded and checked her watch. Chris was catching a ride with one of his friend's mothers after school. She bit her lip. Maybe she should have picked him up herself. She had barely begun to form the thought when Lou slid onto the opposite bench and put down a mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of her.

'On the house.' Lou said. 'So how are you?'

'Good.' Sarah said recognising that the coffee wasn't on the house but would be paid for with good old-fashioned gossip. 'Herman's thinking about buying another plane.'

'Business must be good.' Lou commented.

'Not as good as Flybird's.' Sarah said mentioning the biggest of the four air services that worked out of the Gilligan airfield.

'But then you don't do the same business.' Lou said. She hunched forward. 'Just as well if you ask me.' She lowered her voice. 'Couple on the back booth over my shoulder? Don't look.' She said seeing Sarah start to move her head. 'I think they're Feds and I'm thinking they're investigating Flybirds.'

'Why would you think that?' Sarah asked curious in spite of herself.

'Just the questions they're asking, that's all.' Lou looked up as the door went.

A deputy sheriff wandered over holding his green baseball cap scrunched up in one hand. 'Ladies.'

'Deputy Watson.' Lou replied and winked at Sarah before she slid out of the booth; Sarah fought the urge to beg her to stay as the deputy took her place.

'How're you doing, Sarah?' Deputy Watson asked.

'Fine, Harold.' Sarah replied politely. Harold Watson had been trying to get her to agree to a date since the day she had rolled into town. She was wary of getting involved with anyone especially as she had Chris to consider. She had an awful feeling he was going to invite her to the town picnic which was taking place the next day. 'Just waiting for my son to join me for supper.'

'You know I've been meaning to ask you for a while now,' he cleared his throat nervously as his brown eyes shyly met hers across the table, 'I'm off duty for a couple of days and…'

Sarah caught sight of an old pick-up pulling up outside and Chris alighting from the cab. 'Here's Chris.' She moved from the booth to greet the boy running towards her.

Sarah's six year old allowed his mother to give him a brief hug before she pushed him gently into the booth.

Harold waited a moment for the invitation to join them and when it wasn't forthcoming gave a sigh. 'I'll leave you to it then.' He shifted out of the booth.

'Thanks for the company.' Sarah said her attention already turning to her child. She was unaware of how Harold tipped his head and made his way to the counter as her sky blue eyes ran over Chris's cherubic face topped with its shock of brown hair that never seemed to lie flat. He was so like her physically that she could hardly see his father. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing, she thought.

Lee Edwards was a boy she could happily forget. He'd been the school bad-boy, two years her senior, and she'd been a rebel without a cause. Lee had introduced her to sex, drugs and alcohol; and not necessarily in that order. They'd run off together on his motorcycle after she'd had one too many fights with her folks. A month later, he'd left her in a run-down motel in Arizona and a month after that she'd found out she was pregnant and had cleaned up fast. Some stubborn streak had kept her from returning home to her parents. She tried once just after Chris had been born only to find they'd moved on leaving no clue to their next location. She'd sat and wept that day on the front stoop before she'd picked up her baby and made her way back into the world. She'd done alright for herself and her son, Sarah thought determinedly as Lou set down the plates and topped up Sarah's drink.

Chris continued babbling about his school day in the way of children the world over and Sarah enjoyed his innocent recounting of math and the Little League practice as they both wolfed down the meal. His stories were peppered with mention of Kevin who was his best friend. He loved his life at Gilly Pass, Sarah concluded a little sadly. It was going to be hard on him when they moved just like it had been had on her every time her parents had packed up and moved onto the next town.

Sarah had always known her parents weren't like other parents, that their nomadic existence was unusual; that the constant change of names with each new home wasn't just a game. Just before her fifteenth birthday she'd discovered the reason hidden in a shoebox in her mother's closet. It had been filled to the brim with birth certificates and photos. Her parents weren't Alan and Jane Hargreaves or Harrington or any of the other dozen aliases they used; their real names were Alan and Jane Hawke. Her real name was Sarah Katherine Hawke; named for her grandmothers. Sarah shook her head. At fifteen, she'd been too upset to listen to her father's explanation of witness protection, a Mafia family out for revenge and the tragic death of their sons, lost in the boating accident that had meant to only be a cover for their escape. Even in the diner she could recall with absolute clarity the photo of the two boys, her older brothers; it was indelibly etched into her mind. Looking across the table at her own child, Sarah finally understood her parents' heartache and she regretted that she'd never get to tell them.

It hadn't been always been easy surviving on her own but she'd been lucky. Chris had been a couple of weeks old when she'd landed on her feet. The owner of the air service who'd hired her as an apprentice mechanic had ended up encouraging her to take her high school equivalency, training her as a pilot and teaching her how to drive. Bill and his wife Elaine had been like family to her; treated her like family; Hardy was their last name. She'd arrived back from a flight one day to find Bill nursing a black eye and several other bruises; men had been there asking about her. Bill hadn't told them anything. An hour later, Sarah had taken the run-down car Bill had insisted she take and moved on. Since then she'd been travelling every few months, never staying any place too long until Gilly Pass.

And they had stayed too long, Sarah mused as Chris stopped talking for a moment to concentrate, as only a six year old could, on stuffing as much of the rest of his burger in his small mouth as he was able. She sighed. She didn't want to move anymore than she figured Chris would. The town suited them. For all that everyone knew everyone else's business, nobody asked questions about why someone ended up in Gilly Pass; they just accepted that they did. They had a nice studio apartment over a garage on the Main Street where Sarah occasionally helped out to make extra bucks; her job at the airfield was good; the school was good; they were making some friends…and Sarah had an itch that had settled between her shoulder blades and wouldn't budge; it was the itch that told her it was time to move and soon.

'So can I, Mom? Please.'

Chris's plaintive cry broke through her reverie and she smiled at him apologetically. 'Can I Mom do what?'

His eyebrow quirked upwards. 'You weren't listening.'

'Sorry, sweetie.' She acknowledged the accusation. 'Now what were you asking me?'

Chris gave a heartfelt sigh. 'It's Kevin's birthday next week and he's having a party. Can I go, Mom? Can I? Please.'

Sarah opened her mouth to tell him no but the words died on her lips as she took in the hope in his blue eyes. 'OK. You can go.' She agreed. Another week wouldn't hurt, would it? She sighed deeply. She could live with the itch until then; she could.