As she wandered around, Belinda realised all the paths on the site looked to be interconnected to a path that went around the circumference of the place. Pushing her way along one of the paths, knocking flowers off the overgrown flowering camellia shrubs that crowded in, she stopped short. In front of her was a large paved area with several wooden picnic benches piled up around the edge and a brick-built barbecue and pizza oven. The entertainment area. To one side of it was a long stone building with ‘Café’ painted above the boarded-up entrance that Nigel had shown her a photo of. She rubbed some grime off the window and peered inside, but it was too dark to make anything out.

Walking past the building to where the path joined the main one that circumnavigated the site, Belinda stopped and looked over the hydrangea bush hedge and caught her breath as she saw the river and its path a mere fifteen metres away. Looking along the hedge, she saw what appeared to be a gap and moved towards it. To her delight, she found a wooden gate set into the space, which yielded when she pushed it and opened enough for her to squeeze through. A few yards down the path on the right, there was a backless wooden bench in desperate need of painting, but Belinda sank down onto it, grateful for its presence.

A small dinghy, moored close to the bank, was moving gently on the water. Belinda sat there for several moments, mesmerised as she watched a trio of ducks take flight. A heron landed gracefully upstream in the gently flowing water and an animal that moved too quickly in the water for her to be sure but was very otter-like in its movements swam before her. She’d forgotten how beautiful Brittany was, even on an overcast winter afternoon.

As that treacherous thought struck her, she returned to the gate and started to walk along the main path before veering off left and walking back into the centre of the site along another path.

Along this path, several individual wooden chalets were spaced a good distance from each other in a higgledy-piggledy manner. Each had its own terrace for al fresco eating and hardstanding for a car.

Belinda, though, was surprised to see one was tidier and better maintained than the others. Even the flower bed in front was weed-free and spring bulbs were flowering. A bicycle with a basket fixed to its handlebars was leant up against the side of the chalet. If she didn’t know better, she’d say someone was staying there, maybe even living there permanently.

Belinda climbed the shallow steps onto the decking area in front of the cabin and knocked on the door. Silence. No sign of life. Thoughtfully, Belinda walked back to the path and took a photograph.