Ten minutes later after they’d both enjoyed their first course a young girl appeared to clear their starter plates, followed by Sandrine, who placed their roast beef main courses in front of them.

Conversation between them ceased for several moments as they both tucked in to their meals. When they both muttered ‘Delicious’ at the same time, Belinda laughed before whispering, ‘Not the same without a Yorkshire pud though, is it? I bet you make wonderful Yorkshire puds.’

‘I do,’ Fern said. ‘I’m renowned for my Yorkshire puds.’

‘Did you ever go to the café on the campsite? I’m curious about what sort of food they offered there. Chips with everything or something more upmarket?’ Belinda asked.

‘I don’t think it even opened in the last two years,’ Fern answered. ‘Campers used Yann’s Bar and occasionally I got a few evening reservations for dinner. What sort of food are you planning?’ She sighed. ‘It’s the kind of place that years ago I would have loved to have taken on. So much potential there.’

‘I’d like to go more restaurant-type food rather than café. It’s such a wonderful setting for functions too. But the site will need a more basic café too.’ Belinda shrugged. ‘We’ll see. Whatever I suggest, Alain is sure to argue against.’

‘You two still not getting on?’

‘We’ve established a fragile truce. Not sure how long it will last, to be honest,’ Belinda said. ‘I’m beginning to feel there’s something under the surface ready to explode, but I have no idea what.’ One thing she did know though was that as an expert in keeping secrets, she could always second guess when someone else was hiding something.

12

The ginger cat was sitting on the top step by the door and mewed at her hopefully as Belinda unlocked the office door early Monday morning. She’d made her way to the campsite at the usual time, stopping in the village to pick up croissants and her lunchtime baguette on the way. If Alain didn’t turn up, she’d share the plain croissant with BB and the ducks down on the river.

‘Morning, Ging,’ Belinda said, bending down to give the cat a stroke. She really must ask Alain what the cat’s proper name was.

Ging followed her into the office, jumped onto the desk and curled up in his usual position out of BB’s way. The two of them had settled down well together, even played sometimes, but BB was liable to get overexcited and would receive a sharp tap on his nose when he upset Ging.