Phil watched the receptionist scan Jen’s favorite photo. It was a picture of her Great-gran as a young lady, walking along an empty beach. Far into the distance, a striped lighthouse stolidly warned passing boats clear of the rocky outcropping.

An indicator above a door changed from red to green. “You can both proceed to the costume fitting room now, and through to the studio when you’re dressed.”

It wasn’t long before they entered the studio and stood on the platform. They exchanged a quick kiss, and linked arms. “We’re ready.” they said, together.

There was a shockingly bright flash of light. A wave of mild vertigo washed over Phil and he felt his ears pop.

A few paces in front of them stood a young man. He had a Brownie box camera in his hands, and he appeared to be winding on the film. In front of him walked a young lady dragging a large beach towel towards a spot with a good view of a striped lighthouse.

Phil kissed Jen on her on the forehead, and whispered, “We have three and a half hours, Sweety.”