‘If you would like to join us, you’re more than welcome. Now, fetch your suitcase and I’ll show you to your room. I need to get lunch. Would you like to join us? I’m sure Anouk would like to interrogate you some more.’

Scott laughed. ‘Thanks. I’d love to have lunch with you both.’

Fern was in the kitchen making a green salad when Anouk returned. ‘Can I ’elp you, and before you say non, remember I still managed to feed myself at home.’

‘I was going to make a mozzarella salad – cheese and tomatoes are in the fridge, basil on the windowsill.’

‘He is nice your Monsieur Scott,’ Anouk said as she deftly sliced tomatoes a few minutes later. ‘He reminds me of someone.’

‘He is not mine,’ Fern protested. ‘I’ve only met him once before. But I agree he does seem nice.’

‘Where did you meet?’

‘I took Lady for a walk a few weeks ago in Tronjoly park and we got chatting.’

‘Ah Tronjoly. That figures,’ Anouk said.

‘Why?’

‘That would be his ancestral home. The Kergoëts owned it for a couple of centuries, but eventually it passed out of the family before falling into disrepair. The council own it now.’

Fern took the country-style baguette she’d put to warm in the oven and cut it into chunks to go with the asparagus and pea soup she had put to gently heat on the stove. She carried the plate of cold meats and the cheeseboard with Cantal, brie and a Roquefort out onto the table at the end of the terrace. More than enough food for three people, she thought, especially with the soup, bread and salads. And the special cake she’d made to go with coffee. Plates, cutlery and wine glasses were next before she opened the wine, a bottle each of white and red. She pulled the corks absently, thinking about Scott. That day in the park, he’d told her he was retired but hadn’t mentioned a wife or a family. No doubt Anouk would have obtained that information from him by the end of lunch. Not that it was any of their business of course but Fern couldn’t help wondering.

Fern turned as Scott came from the kitchen carrying the basket of bread and the mozzarella salad. ‘Gosh, what a spread. Anouk said the soup is ready to serve.’

‘Thanks. Help yourself to a glass of wine,’ and Fern went back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the three of them were tucking into their lunch. As she finished her soup, Anouk said, ‘Where is it you live in America, Scott?’

‘New York. There’s a vibrant Breton community there, you’ll be surprised to hear. They’re all eager for news about the old country from me.’