There was no sign of Bernie as they walked back past the cabin and the bike had gone too.

Once she’d made her coffee, Belinda sat down and emailed Nigel and Molly with an update of the progress so far and querying the delivery for the new equipment Nigel was sending over from England. She also asked whether a decision had been made about running or leasing out the café. There was a lot of work to be done to get it up to the necessary hygiene requirements, but some of the expense of buying new catering equipment could be passed on to a tenant if they leased it out.

Around mid-afternoon she went across to the manager’s house to see how the team she’d organised to clean it were getting on. They’d started on the bedrooms and the bathroom that morning and everything upstairs was sparkling. Now they were working their magic downstairs. The sitting room and the small sunroom looked far more inviting than when she’d first seen it. In the kitchen, the loose covers from the small settee were whirling around in the washing machine, whilst the vigorous use of steel wool on the oven was getting rid of seasons of grease.

Thanking everyone for their hard work, Belinda returned to the office, deep in thought. A few more days and she’d be able to leave the auberge and move into the house. Leaving Fern and the auberge would be a real wrench though. The two of them had become firm friends and Belinda worried about leaving her alone. The campsite house would be basic accommodation, nowhere near as comfortable as the auberge, but living on site had always been the intention. At least there was a usable bathroom and the kitchen was adequate for her needs. Belinda sighed. She’d talk to Fern tonight about moving out and also insist that they went out for lunch one Sunday, her treat. Maybe they could meet up at least once a week while she was in France.

Alain was in the office when she pushed open the door, staring intently at the computer and muttering under his breath. Belinda hesitated, before moving to his side. Relations between them had been less strained recently but she was still wary of upsetting him and opening herself up to more rude comments.

‘Problem?’ she asked.

‘For me, not you,’ Alain answered, closing the email programme he had open on the screen. ‘I ’ave to deal with something this weekend in the UK. I’ll see you Monday morning peut-être.’ He picked up his jacket from the chair, looked at her, went to say something, changed his mind and walked out.