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missed France. He missed the fresh croissants in his Papas boulangerie. He missed the sweet cidre with his evening meal. He missed the delicious aromas that always welcomed him into his Mamans kitchen. But Sabine did not quench Fabrices craving for home, nor did she prove to be a woman he could entrust his heart to. When Fabrice completed his Masters, his relationship with Sabine well and truly over, he was more than ready to return to the empowering familiarity of Brittany. He didnt regret that Sabine ended their relationship. He felt only relief that he didnt have to do it himself. At the completion of his Masters Fabrice had been away from Europe for six years with the exception of a brief visit home for the Millennium. When he got back to France Fabrice decided to call in and see Yann in Paris before returning to Brittany. It was January 2003. Yann was a chef at one of the more elegant hotels in central Paris. He had done well for himself but like Fabrice he was ready to go back to Brittany. During Fabrices time away the brothers had stayed in very close contact and had often tossed around the idea of returning to Locronan to run a restaurant. The familiar went a long way with these boys despite the fact that neither of them had lived in Brittany for some 10 years. A week after Fabrice had arrived in Paris, the brothers were united in their plans and Fabrice was on his way to Locronan. He had an appointment with a Real Estate agent to pick up the keys for the home he had just purchased, sight unseen: a four level building that at present was the "Librairie Celtique" in the middle of the town square. Fabrice was looking forward to restoring it back to its original design, with, of course, a few post-medieval additions. It would challenge his architectural skills restoring this fine piece of Locronans heritage but he was more than ready for it. Yann had handed in his resignation at the restaurant that helped turn him into the best chef this side of the Seine – his words. The Le Gall brothers were returning to Brittany! Yann and Fabrice were taking over the lease of a local restaurant two doors down from their fathers boulangerie. They wanted to re-name it 1621 after the year Fabrices house was built. Their father agreed it was a good name. But then he was a man who had great respect for the past. CHAPTER FOUR His name was Fabrice. Christina had savoured his name on her tongue every moment since she discovered it. M. Le Gall, the lovely man in the boulangerie, called him into his shop one day while she was there and she heard him introduce Fabrice to a Breton woman who needed help getting her purchases into her car. He called him "mon fils". Fabrice was his son. Fabrice Le Gall. Fabrice Le Gall. Fabrice Le Gall. She knew his name. Christina


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awoke early for her last day in Locronan. She had not ventured out since the night at 1621 with Alison. That was three days ago. Alison had left straight after dinner that night to stay with friends before flying to Paris the next morning. Christina was going to meet her there tomorrow for the start of their six-month tour through Europe. Christina was glad of this time to herself. She had hoped as soon as she wrote the poem that she would find the courage to deliver it into the hand of Fabrice, the man with the smiling green eyes. But now, on her final day she was disheartened to realise the courage was nowhere to be found. She felt completely disgusted with herself. These beautiful words that carried so many truths for her were going to be reduced to insignificance because she didnt have the strength to stand by them. But then what was the alternative? She couldnt go to him – not yet. She took a deep breath and rolled towards her nightstand to retrieve the poem. As she read it one last time she sent a silent cry to her destiny to fill the void left by her cowardice. Her body lacked the conviction of her spirit and as the tears returned she realised Fabrice was too important to let go. The day was fast approaching when her body and spirit would be one. On that day she would no longer be haunted by the woman with dead eyes but until then she had nothing to give him – nothing except the poem. As she caught her reflection in the dresser mirror the woman with the dead eyes looked back at her with a mocking grin. The writer of the words would ensure Christinas destiny was fulfilled but the woman with the dead eyes would ensure Christina saw hell first – more than once. CHAPTER FIVE "Fabrice. Wake up! Papa is on the phone." Yann threw the portable onto the foot of Fabrices bed before padding off to the shower. Groggy, as always in the morning, Fabrice clumsily retrieved the phone. "Papa, what is it? Its the middle of the night!" His Papas rich laugh boomed down the line. "Mon fils, cest midi pour moi!!" Fabrice smiled as he rolled over and looked at his digital alarm clock. It said "07.30". His Papa, the clown! Of course it was midday for him. He baked bread for a living!! "Papa, next youll be calling me a bum and telling me to get a real job." "Ahh...you are Breton! You cant be a bum and Breton! It is not possible." Fabrice smiled once again. "What is it, Papa?" "You have a letter here; an envelope someone left at the front door of the boulangerie. They must have delivered it while I was in the back making the bread. It smells of lavender." Fabrice was suddenly wide awake. "I have no idea what that could be, Papa. But Ill get some clothes on and come and pick it up now." "You dont want to wait