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finish our honeymoon but I was thinking at the end of that we can start your commission from here. We want to buy some building materials here in Europe and ship them back home. Wed need your help finding the right stuff. What do you think?" "Brilliant! I can feel the wheels turning in my head already. Muriwai Beach wont know whats hit it when we get back there!" Marie squeezed her sons hand and her eyes filled with such love for him. She could feel the man in him returning to re-claim what was lost. Her heart soared. CHAPTER SEVEN Christina drew from her purse the copy she had made of her poem. The once fragrant lavender paper was now dog-eared and torn from her excessive handling. The year she had lived since she wrote these words had been a bad one for her. There had been a lot of pain and more than a few tears when she realised her melancholy had come at great cost to her friendship with Alison. She had lost much since she last saw Fabrice. But, as Christina sat on the warm sand at Uxbridge Beach with the late afternoon sun warm on her back she realised that despite the high price she paid this past year, the worst was over. When one hits the bottom there is only one way to go. Christina was on her way back up. Her life was almost as it should be. Her spirit was one with her body and the time had finally come to re-claim what was hers. She smiled into the warm sea breeze, growing stronger in its loving touch. (Soon, my darling... soon the whisper of my caress will be more than mere words.) The beach was a place of peace for Christina and had always helped her to order her thoughts. Today was no exception. Since returning from Europe six months ago her friendship with Alison had been on shaky ground. She did not count on the negative impact of leaving Fabrice behind would have on her. This oversight robbed her and Alison of the ability to enjoy their six-month tour through Europe. When Christina met Alison in Paris after leaving Locronan last northern summer her melancholy had already taken hold. To Alisons great chagrin this melancholy was to shadow them throughout their six month tour, blighting every part of their trip until their friendship was damaged almost beyond repair. The woman with the dead eyes was starting her own tour to hell and ensuring that Christina, and every other person she touched, came along for the ride. Thankfully most of the trip was blurry in Christinas memory but that is not to say that there werent a few experiences that were never going to grant her the bliss of amnesia. She remembered with deep regret the first of many arguments she had with Alison. They were in Rome and Alisons passion for the Renaissance was very much in evidence. She was in awe of everything


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she saw. But, unfortunately for both of them, Alisons passion stopped with her. The woman with the dead eyes ensured none of it touched Christina. What kind of imbecile goes to the Sistine Chapel and sits outside for three hours while every man and his dog goes inside and gets neck ache? In short – Christina. Michelangelo would be turning in his grave at such rejection. At that point she knew it was no longer in her to appreciate beauty. She realised only then that all the beauty she could see and all the hopes she had for her future were in the poem she gave to Fabrice. He had the last of the beauty she had to give, while she was left to sit on a Roman street curb in the baking sun of a 38C day contemplating her fingernails. As Alison walked away from her into the coolness of the Sistine Chapel, Christina knew the first nail in the coffin had already been hammered home and there was nothing she could do to protect their friendship from her deep sense of dissatisfaction. Twenty years of friendship was hanging by a thread and Christinas half-life was taking a firm hold. She brought her face onto her knees and wept. On a crowded Roman street, in the sunshine of a beautiful Italian day, she was completely and utterly alone. Christina looked across the horizon as her bittersweet Roman memory faded from her mind only to be replaced by thoughts of Fabrice. He was never far from her. In the year since she had last seen him, Christina, after much soul searching, had finally found her place to be. No longer did she feel at odds with herself. That feeling of imbalance that plagued her entire life was now gone, and for the first time in her 29 years she was comfortable beneath her skin. Her weight had finally dropped to a more manageable 55kg and with her new figure came two newly acquired dimples on her suddenly chisel-featured, though still softly feminine face. The new-look Christina was a breath of fresh air from the delicate tips of her French-polished toe nails to the gentle swell of her hips, right through to her flat stomach and softly S-curved buttocks. Her body was tighter than it had ever been and she was glad she had allowed herself to be goaded by Simone into attending yoga classes with her. The affect on her body was dramatic. But it was all for nothing if she could not have Fabrice. Simone would kill her when she found out what Christina had done but the time was right. It had to be now. She had suffered enough this past year without him. Come the end of the week she would be back in Locronan to claim her place by Fabrices side. Simone and Connor had been on their honeymoon in Europe for about three months now. They were flying home today, along with their newly commissioned architect. Christina