Called to go
As the single engine Norseman flew over the treetops, Shirley gazed out of the window. Mary Ann was sitting beside her, and every so often exchanged a few words, but it was hard to talk above the noise of the engine.
The view was mostly of tree tops from the thick jungle below them. From time to time they caught sight of the winding Purus river, a tributary to the majestic Amazon. It was the 1960s and, on the five-hour flight from Manaus, there was plenty of time to reflect.
