‘Bonjour, Madame LeRoy. We meet again.’ An American accent and Fern recognised him then as the man she’d met in Tronjoly park.

‘Scott. What are you doing here?’

‘Hoping you’ve got a room for a night or two. The Tourist Office said you might have. If not, maybe you can point me in the direction of one.’ He regarded her hopefully.

Fern looked at him steadily. Some instinct told her that Scott turning up here asking for a room was no coincidence.

‘Would you like a coffee while I think about it?’ she said. ‘My mother-in-law is here and we were just about to have one.’

‘I’d appreciate a coffee for sure, so long as I’m not intruding,’ Scott said, taking the suitcase from her. ‘Let me carry that.’

‘Thank you.’ Fern led the way into the auberge. ‘Just leave the suitcase in the kitchen and come on out to the terrace.’

‘Anouk, we have company for coffee,’ she said, wondering what Anouk would make of Scott. She was about to make the introductions when Scott moved across to Anouk as she politely started to stand up.

‘Madame LeRoy – it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Scott Kergoëts. Please don’t get up for me.’

‘American?’ Anouk asked, settling back down. ‘With a Breton surname?’

‘Guilty as charged.’

‘Maybe you’d like to talk amongst yourselves for a couple of moments while I fetch the coffee,’ Fern said, leaving them to it.

She stood by the kitchen window watching the two of them for a moment. Should she give him a room? Or send him to the auberge in the next village? She’d decide after coffee. And after asking him a couple of searching questions.

When she carried the coffee and the plate of biscuits out, she smothered a smile. Anouk was holding her own interrogation of Scott.

‘Your Breton ancestors came from Gourin then?’

‘They sure did, ma’am. All I heard growing up was how beautiful the old country was and how desperate things had been, forcing them to emigrate.’

Anouk nodded. ‘My father had two uncles who emigrated, looking for that better life.’

‘Did they find it?’ Scott asked gently.

‘For a while. Then the letters stopped coming during the Depression. It was sometime before he ’eard they’d both died during that terrible time in America.’ Anouk sighed as she accepted a coffee from Fern.

‘So you’re here researching your family history then?’ Fern asked, handing Scott a coffee. ‘Help yourself to biscuits.’

‘There was an album at home all the time I was growing up, full of faded photos and other mementos of the area. I’ve wanted to visit forever, but it’s taken until now to happen.’

‘D’you still have relatives over here?’ Fern asked. ‘If you do, surely you could stay with them?’

‘Sadly no.’