Belinda swirled the wine around in her glass at Jane’s words. Would she even be going back to help to Alain? And afterwards, when the site was up and running, would Nigel want her to do a yearly visit to keep an eye on things for him? Although he had said he and Molly were looking forward to visiting when the site was ready, so maybe they would do the necessary checks themselves. If they sold the hotels though, would they keep the campsite? All questions she resolved to ask Nigel and Molly in the near future.

Draining her glass of wine, she picked up the bottle and proffered it to Jane. ‘Top-up?’

Jane nodded and held out her glass.

‘Well, if the site is too basic for you in May, I’m sure Fern would find you a room at the auberge I stayed in,’ Belinda said as she topped up both glasses.

Jane left at ten and Belinda went down in the lift with her to give BB a last walk along the embankment. There was still a chill in the evening air, spring might have arrived, but night-time temperatures were still on the cold side. Belinda shivered as she stood looking out over the gently flowing river. Surely the Brittany evenings had been warmer than this before she left?

Alain had seemed upbeat and pleased with the way things had gone over there when she’d spoken to him earlier. Although she would have liked more detail. Had the weather been kind, had the shop been busy, had the campers been friendly, had… Oh, the list was endless. She was surprised at how involved she’d become with the place in the short time she’d been there.

With a start, she realised she was missing Brittany. The weeks there had passed quickly with all the work, whilst here, yes she’d been busy over the holiday weekend, but with Nigel looking after things at the Torquay hotel, it had been less frantic than previous years.

Standing there, her conversation yesterday with Chloe flitted into her mind. It was true she had never talked to Chloe about Brittany; hadn’t deemed it necessary. What good would it do? It was in the past and didn’t affect Chloe’s life in any way. Why did she need to know about past unhappiness? On the other hand, it was part of their family history. Part of what had made Belinda who she was.

Maybe she’d been wrong to stay silent like her mum, but it had been the easy way out. If people didn’t know, they couldn’t judge. But that deathbed promise her mother had extracted from her – did that mean she’d lived her life feeling guilty over things? Or simply that she wanted Belinda to know the truth?