Sitting there, looking across a field at her old home, Belinda felt a flood of emotions flow through her. The cottage itself was a typical Breton building, with gabled dormer windows, red shutters fixed to the wall downstairs and a red wooden front door. The field at the side where she used to ride Lucky was bright yellow with rapeseed flowers and the tall trees in the copse seemed to have been cut down.

Closing her eyes, in her mind she could still visualise the layout inside the cottage. A room on either side of the hallway, her bedroom next to the large kitchen at the back, and stairs leading to the main bedroom and bathroom on the first floor were hidden behind a door in the kitchen. Unbidden, a memory of her and her parents in the kitchen leaped into her mind. It was summer and they’d spent the day collecting and stacking enough bales of hay in the barn to feed their animals through winter and now the three of them were enjoying their supper sitting at the pine table. Belinda couldn’t remember the food they ate but she knew there had been wine and a can of lemonade for her. What she could still remember all these years later though, was that both she and her parents had been a happy family that evening. She wished with all her heart that things had never changed.

Belinda opened her eyes and came to with a small start as Chloe spoke.

‘It looks lovely, Mum,’ Chloe said. ‘Typically French. Which sounds silly, I know, but some of the cottages I’ve seen would look at home in England.’

The rest of the drive passed quickly and once back at the campsite, Chloe had to wake the twins up. Both Aimee and Charlie woke up grumpy, so Chloe said she’d walk them down to the cabin and see if playing with BB and Bernie would cheer them up.

Before Belinda and Alain went to the office to check that all was well, they took the baby seats and the buggy out of the car and took them into the cottage, where Belinda thanked Alain for the day.

‘Lac de Guerlédan was a great idea,’ Belinda said. ‘Just what was needed to lift Chloe’s and my spirits after the hospice.’ Belinda ran her hands through her hair. ‘Seeing my dad for what I know will be the last time was harder than I thought.’

‘Come here,’ and Alain pulled her into his arms for a hug. For several seconds, Belinda stayed there savouring the closeness and knowing Alain felt concerned for her.

‘I could get used to these comfort hugs you keep giving me,’ she said softly.

Alain looked at her wordlessly before giving her a gentle kiss on her head and releasing her.

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