Ten years after World War Two ended. You and your husband John were currently lying on the sofa together watching the TV. John had his hands running through your hair, giving you light kisses on your neck.

John had been a soldier fighting in the war, which always worried you sick. But whenever you got your weekly letter from him, a slight relief was lifted, knowing he was okay.

"Darling?" He mumbled into your neck. "What did you do for work while I was away fighting?" He asked. "I already told you. I did clerical work." You explained. But you hadn't done clerical work.. you had worked in Bletchley Park helping to crack the codes. "Then I guess you wouldn't mind going to Bletchley Park then?" He muttered.