"Yes I want to look my best for Jack. What lengths we young ladies go to, eh?"
Sylvia stared into the mirror, pleased with her appearance and started to sing a song very popular in the 50s.
Martha shook her head sadly. Sylvia was once a beautiful woman but now a wreck like the discarded boats on Barry Harbour which would never sail again.
Jack had died in a car accident over half a century before.
Martha saw a rather different figure in the mirror.
"He's late," Sylvia sighed.