The two words caught Belinda by surprise. Not so much the word demat, which was the Breton word for hello and one of the few words she remembered in her very limited Breton vocabulary. The real surprise was the man himself. For some reason, she’d been expecting Bernie to be in his teens or early twenties maybe. This man had to be in his late thirties or even possibly early forties.

‘You’re Bernie?’ she said, looking at him. ‘Do you speak French or English?’

He smiled and shook his head before saying something rapidly in Breton.

Belinda frantically tried to remember the few words of Breton her grandmother had taught her so long ago. She knew a lot of the older generation still railed against the use of French and tried to stop what they regarded as their true language from dying out. She suspected Bernie had been force-fed the old language from an early age.

She smiled at him and raised her hands in defeat. ‘Desolé.’ A conversation was obviously not an option. Not knowing what else to do or say, she waved her right hand in farewell before saying, ‘Bye-bye, à demain,’ trusting that he would know and understand the phrase, and calling BB to heel, Belinda walked on down the path.

Five minutes later, sitting on the bench overlooking the river, she took a bite of her baguette and thought about Bernie. When Alain had told her Bernie’s father had thrown him out, she’d immediately thought of a troublesome teenager, not a full-grown man. Bernie gave her the impression of being a gentle soul who liked a simple life. The fact he only understood Breton though must be a problem for him. Not many people these days spoke the old language, so meeting people and making friends must be difficult. And what was she going to do about him living in the cabin? Having met the man, she felt sorry for him and disinclined to move him on, although that would be the sensible course of action. If he remained, would it upset people? What would holidaymakers think of him when he didn’t reply to them? She’d talk to Alain again about Bernie before she spoke to Nigel to explain the situation and ask what he wanted her to do.

Belinda watched as a trio of ducks performed a fly-past before settling on the river. She sighed. It really was a beautiful spot. There was even a small sandy beach further along. It was easy to imagine families enjoying holidays on the campsite when it was fully operational again. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was in Brittany, she might even be tempted herself.

Pulling a small piece of ham out of the baguette, she gave it to BB before finishing the rest and getting to her feet. ‘Cup of coffee back at the office for me, water for you, and then it’s work again.’