Belinda forced herself to eat half a croissant and washed it down with her coffee. The way her tummy was churning she prayed it would stay put during the journey. Clipping BB’s lead on, she walked down to Bernie’s cabin. Still early, there were a few campers sitting out enjoying the early-morning sunshine quiet and eating breakfast outside. Bernie was sitting outside his cabin with a mug of coffee on a small table next to him, waiting for her. Ging was curled up again in the bicycle basket.

‘Demat, Bernie,’ Belinda said.

Bernie smiled. ‘Demat, Belinda,’ and he held out his hand for BB’s lead.

‘Trugarez,’ Belinda said, remembering the word for thank you in Breton. She bent down and stroked BB, who was already curled up at Bernie’s feet. ‘You be good. Au revoir,’ she said, trusting it was such a universal word that Bernie couldn’t fail to know it and waved before turning to walk back to the cottage to collect her bag, car keys and jacket.

There was a large Mitsubishi 4 x 4 car parked outside the office when she went to find Alain. Hopefully Marie would be able to deal with whoever had arrived and not delay Alain and her leaving. Belinda stood by her car waiting and wondering whether she should go and seek Alain out. Before she could climb the steps to the office though, he appeared.

‘Ready?’

Belinda nodded. ‘Yes. Who does that belong to?’

‘Me,’ Alain said, pressing the key fob. ‘Come on, in you get.’ He opened the passenger door for her.

Belinda couldn’t contain her surprise. ‘Yours? You’ve traded the 2CV in?’

Alain shook his head. ‘Non. The 2CV is for local trips and is fun. This, this is for serious journeys.’ Once she was in, he closed the door and walked round and got in the driver’s seat. ‘I’ve set the satnav for the quickest route. Should take under an hour.’

Belinda, thankful she didn’t have to concentrate on driving, sat lost in thoughts and memories that chased themselves around and around in her head as the miles flashed past. The car radio was switched to a classic station playing gentle piano music, the sort that could send you to sleep if you weren’t careful, Belinda thought. Alain, concentrating on his driving, glanced across at her once or twice but didn’t attempt to make conversation, something for which Belinda was grateful.

‘I’ve forgotten to buy him something. I should have brought a gift,’ Belinda said, suddenly in a panic at the thought of the forthcoming meeting. ‘Flowers or something.’

‘I think seeing you will be a gift enough,’ Alain said.

Belinda sank back down into her seat. ‘I hope you’re right.’