The long room was entirely devoid of colour, yet the space was filled with sounds. The quiet, intermittent tock of a blind rattling in its rails with the ebb and flow of the sea breeze, which also brought the raucous sounds of gulls and the occasional crash of waves obliterating themselves against rocks. A low buzz of classical music provided another undertone, the solo cello’s strains climbing up and floating down the emotional palate under the caress of a virtuoso player. As a counterpoint to these, there came, often in frenetic bursts, the ringing noise of hammer against chisel against rock and the occasional muttered curse.

Andrea stretched and absentmindedly wiped her brow, smearing dust into sweat. Even in this moment of relaxation, however, she remained pointedly turned away from the wall of gauze covered glass, through which the sun streamed in a golden haze. The view held no interest for her; not the golden sands or the grey cliffs of the bay framing them nor the blues of the ocean waves rolling in.

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