It was a sliding door moment. Standing on the esplanade, Kirsty gazes down at the sandy pool, brushes her windblown grey hair off her face, and feels the years roll back. Then, she sees the fresh faced young woman she'd been, sitting and smiling as she watched her two small children giggle and splash in the shallows, tipping the water from their little buckets. The water surrounding the continents was safe and warm and each concrete country - visible back then - had beckoned her toddlers with the thrill of discovery.
She sits on America's crumbling east coast, dangling her legs in the balmy water; watching and waiting for Dean's return to shore. Kirsty tries to imagine what her life would have been if she hadn't noticed him, years before, sunning his bronzed body on the beach. He'd stood so proud and confident: the stance of a man who knew he looked good. She'd watched him swim... enthralled by his sleek body and powerful stroke which parted the water with the strength and grace of a seal. It was intoxicating - and she was hooked!
