‘“You don’t want a wedding like mine, darling. We were just two crazy hippies who didn’t make a big deal out of it. Your wedding day though is going to be wonderful.” And it was. Shame the marriage failed to live up to expectations.’ Belinda sighed. ‘The more I talk about it, the more I think they never married. Which raises the obvious question, why not? I remember them as loving parents to me and loving towards each other, until that dreadful day when Mum dragged me away because Dad had had an affair.’

‘Do you have any relatives who might know the truth?’

‘No. Damn, I should have asked Molly while I was over there. She and Mum were quite close. I do remember them having a party on the thirtieth of June every year and claiming it was for their anniversary. Mind, it could have been the anniversary of the day they met or got together, for all I know.’ Belinda helped herself to another biscuit and dunked it. ‘You’re right, these are addictive.’ She glanced at Fern. ‘You remember that waitress, Sandrine? I was wondering whether I’d go and talk to her. She, or probably her parents, would have heard all the gossip after we left. Not sure that I want to bring it all out into the open again.’ She groaned to herself. ‘But I really really want to know the truth about my parents.’

‘We’re talking about the late 1960s here, aren’t we?’ Fern said thoughtfully. ‘What was the name of the village your grandmother lived in?’

‘Saint-Herbot,’ Belinda answered. ‘Why?’

‘I was wondering whether Anouk would have heard anything all those years ago. You said you lived on a smallholding nearby and Huelgoat isn’t a million miles away from Saint-Herbot.’ Fern did some mental calculations. ‘Anouk has lived in Huelgoat since she married sixty-five years ago. And villages in those days thrived on gossip even more than today. She may have heard something but not necessarily known the people involved.’

‘It’s worth asking her, I suppose,’ Belinda said.

‘Come for supper soon and you can ask her yourself,’ Fern said. ‘I’ll introduce you to Scott too.’

‘Thanks. I can always go and see Sandrine afterwards if Anouk doesn’t know anything,’ which Belinda thought was more than likely to be the case. Everyone knew that old people’s memories weren’t always the most reliable.

The cottage door slammed, startling them both, as well as the two dogs, who jumped up, barking simultaneously.

‘Evening, Belinda, Fern,’ Alain said, appearing in the doorway. ‘I won’t disturb you, just going to make a spot of supper. Anyone like anything?’

‘No thanks,’ Fern said, standing up. ‘I must go.’ She turned to Belinda. ‘I’ll see you soon and I’ll also have a quiet word with Anouk.’

‘Thanks. I’ll see you out.’