I waved my can at him. “Drink?” He looked lonely, and I was feeling sociable.“Well, thank you, very much appreciated sir. Bill’s the name.” ... introduced the group, we sat in silence, enjoying the night.“Haa,” said Bill “Bit different to last time I was here”“Oh yes?”“I was here sixty years ago, 1917. I thought it was time to come back and say sorry”“You were here? Oh man, you’re a hero. I have so much respect for you” gushed Matt, that was him all over. He was outgoing, and had a lot of. Their conversation withered as the poet turned his attention elsewhere. Sandy focused on his food: standard mass-production conference stuff. And sipped the very potable Merlot as he glanced around the table attentively. He had noticed a very attractive woman opposite him when he sat down. She was engaged in lively conversation with her neighbour, in what sounded like Russian. She was striking-looking and quite dark, maybe middle-eastern. He speculated, as she was speaking Russian smoothly,. More

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