There was rapture in Izzys life. It came when she was flying. She thought she could write a book about the things shed seen from above - herds of deer, hundreds of them, rippling across hilltops, houses...people small as matchstick men. Once, shed seen a couple entangled in their own not-as-private-as-they-thought rapture on a sun-soaked moor. She was addicted to the a There was rapture in Izzys life. It came when she was flying. She thought she could write a book about the things shed seen from above - herds of deer, hundreds of them, rippling across hilltops, houses...people small as matchstick men. Once, shed seen a couple entangled in their own not-as-private-as-they-thought rapture on a sun-soaked moor. She was addicted to the air. Vicars daughter Izzy feels hugely guilty that shes having a very good war. Having learned to fly in a travelling circus before the war, shes now joined the Air Transport Auxiliary as one of their few female pilots and is having the time of her life. The only cloud on the horizon is having to lie to her father about her exact role in the ATA. Her father is against the whole notion of women flying - he certainly wouldnt approve of her becoming a Spitfire girl. Izzy also feels distinctly out of place among the more upper class ladies of the ATA. She would love to be as worldly as her flighty housemate, Julia, or as sophisticated as society wife Clare. But when Izzy finds herself falling for the charms of a dashing American doctor it is to Julia and Clare that she turns for help...