"I turned and looked at the man carefully. Of course I recognised him; itwas Graeme Stephenson, owner of a fashionable photographic studio and myhusba...d. 'My husband?' Yes, of course; I was Samantha Stephenson, fortyyears old, and the Features Editor of our County life-style magazine; andthese two charming young women were our twin daughters Sarah and Pauline.The girls were in their final year at university, where they werestudying History, and were home for the holidays. It was August 2013. "I love you, pal."I kissed her back. And again. I didn't need to reciprocate her declaration of love. We were confident enough that neither of us felt the need to respond every time.We separated, flat on our backs, feeling the warm air and little breeze. Spring was here. Kate rolled on her side and I cradled her head against my neck. I was thinking about what had happened at the pool earlier that morning.Raining hard a couple of hours earlier when Ben and Kate and I arrived at the pool. Just. As a result, I was able to listen in on their conversation. At first, they were doing the standard, “You get this one and I get that one” tactic. I wasn’t paying much attention until the guy sitting next to Mel asked, “Do you have the drug?” That stood my ears up in points. My guy, nodded. Then he offered to buy us a drink. I quickly accepted. I wanted to see how far these two morons would take this.It was their usual weekly night out. They had been going on these little “adventures” since they. I found out later that erroneous report had led to the auction of my stored gear on Okinawa including a number of irreplaceable items. It also made it all the way back to Camp Pendleton where my nifty little Mustang was released as “abandoned” by the storage facility. They compensated me with a five hundred dollar chit in both cases since actual value could not be determined. I was so happy to be back in the land of the big PX that I never made a fuss. Besides, I knew it wouldn’t do me any good.