Free Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) by Michelle J. Bennett Page B

sobered-up considerably and are ready for round two! They had spotted a popular bar and restaurant from the roof terrace earlier that looked ideal.
    Rachel is wearing a flattering, knee-length black chiffon dress with a wide silver belt and silver, cork heeled sandals. Isabel, in contrast, has chosen a denim mini skirt with a red, halter-neck top, which covers her bruising, and diamante leather flip-flops. They had agreed that smart-casual was the way to go as they observed the diners coming and going from their chosen venue. It seemed to attract the under-thirties which meant the music was cranked-up with no complaints.
    ‘I can’t believe that you’ve literally only just looked at the sun for about two hours today and you’re already golden-brown,’ says Rachel, admiring Rachel’s toned, tanned legs. ‘My chest is a dodgy, blotchy pink, hence the high-necked dress tonight,’ she laughs, placing her palm delicately on her tender skin.
    ‘Don’t be daft Rach, you look gorgeous,’ says Isabel, stepping back to admire her friend’s floaty, romantic dress. ‘You should wear that style more often, it really suits you. I bet Stephen would love you in it.’ She pulls her friend close as they happily link arms again.
    As they walk into the dark, almost empty, interior of the bar, they realise that they are probably a bit too early to be wearing quite so many clothes. The crowds they had seen earlier must have just finished a long lunch as far as they can work out.
    Outside, the large white beds with the billowing voile curtains are still packed with groups of friends in swimwear, sunbathing and pouring lager from big glass jugs; some of them dancing around the loungers in sarongs to the deep House tunes, flirting confidently with glasses in their hands.
    ‘Crikey,’ says Rachel, ‘maybe we should have come straight here instead of going home to get changed. I feel a bit out of place!’
    ‘Nah, it’s fine. We’ll eat first, then by the time we’ve finished, this lot will be back again, showered and refreshed, ready to continue the party!’ smiles Isabel, enjoying the laid back atmosphere of the bar. ‘We’re still on English time. People don’t tend to come out for the evening here until about 10 p.m.,’ she glances at her watch, ‘and it’s only 7.30 p.m.,’ she laughs.
    ‘Let’s make the most of the last rays then and have a drink first out on the front lawn,’ says Rachel, ‘those deck chairs look really comfortable and the fake grass will be better on my heels,’ she sniggers.
    An hour later, Rachel couldn’t care less if she were wearing an evening dress or a black bin liner. They are both so relaxed after a bottle, perhaps two, of chilled wine in the evening sun. The pulsing beat of the music continues to drift from the bar.
    ‘Oh yes!’ screams Rachel suddenly, ‘Café del Mar!! I love this one!’ She settles back into the canvas chair, closes her eyes and winds her wrists delicately in the air above her head, like a very slow Flamenco dancer!
    The spell is broken when Isabel asks ‘so, what would you say if I decided to give it another go with Paul?’
    Rachel snaps out of her meditative mood and sits upright in her chair, ‘What?? Have you gone mad ?? You could have killed yourself after what he did to you. No... no, Iz, please.’
    ‘But I think I still love him and, well, I’m twenty-seven. We’ve been together for five years. What if it was just a silly misunderstanding?’
    ‘ Misunderstanding ? There’s nothing to misunderstand Isabel. He... slept... with... another... woman. Several times as far as we understand. Why would you ever trust him again? And you’re beautiful, Iz. And twenty-seven is not old! No... no, please Isabel, I couldn’t bare it. He’s broken the rules big-time... and your heart.’ She struggles out of the low deck-chair and frowns down at her friend.
    Isabel is shocked at her friends genuinely angry reaction. For a moment she thinks that Rachel is