Cappuccino

“How did you meet Dad?” The younger woman sipped her coffee while waiting for an answer. “Well?”

The starched trouser suit looked down; shuffled an empty packet of sandwiches and placed it on the tray. “Does this mean you've met someone?”

“No, course not, just asking.” She finished off her coffee. “Well mother?” She neatly pushed the cup aside. “Well mother?” she said again only louder.

“A rave somewhere in the countryside. We also had them in those days. Hottest week of the summer it was, bonfires, dust everywhere, got some in my eye. Painful it was.” she lingered, holding her cappuccino in both hands, it was starting to get cold.

“What's that to do with it? What about dad?”

“He assumed I was winking at him. Daft bugger.”