Her Beautiful Hands

Back at the campground, Faith is helping Denis come up with a message.

How about this? says Faith. She said she was doing nothing. So you make something up.

About what I think she was doing? asks Denis. 

Yes, says Faith. So she knows you've been thinking of her.

Which I have, says Denis.

There you go then, says Faith. What might she have been doing?

Getting her nails done? says Denis.

What made you think of that? asks Faith.

Her small hands, says Denis.

Hmm, says Faith. 

Does she wear nail polish? asks Faith.

I don't remember, says Denis.

Yet you remember her hands, says Faith. Perhaps that's a starting point.

It might be, agrees Denis.

He is just composing the first words to Henriette in his head when Terence arrives, panting.

Are they back yet? asks Terence.

I thought you were with them, says Faith.

Not them! The botomists! says Terence.

If they are, they'll be somewhere down there in the water, says Faith.

Can I go and look? asks Terence.

I'll come with you, says Faith.

She and Terence go down to the sea, to look for the botanists.

Denis stays behind, typing words into his phone.

Dear Henriette, Naturally I am not convinced you're doing nothing. Do you wear nail polish?

He deletes the last sentence. It won't do. 

Dear Henriette, I can't forget your beautiful hands which remind me of the small hands of my dear Sophie. 

No! that won't do either.

Gaius, Ageless and Louis de Freycinet loom into his field of vision.

He stops composing.

We're back, says Gaius. Where's Terence?

Gone with Faith to see if the botanists have returned, says Denis.

Writing to Henriette? asks Gaius.

Trying, says Denis.

What's the problem? asks Louis de Freycinet.

Our correspondence has faltered, says Denis.

Courage! says de Freycinet.

Good advice, says Gaius. Why not just continue in a natural way. What do you have so far?

Her beautiful hands, says Denis. But I'm not sure how to bring them into the narrative. 

I dream of your beautiful hands, madame, and I beg you to use them to our mutual satisfaction, suggests de Freycinet.

Dare I say that? asks Denis.

I wouldn't, says Gaius.

But Denis is tempted