After he left, she grabbed her jacket and walked along the narrow path that led from the lodge to the boathouse. This section of the lake was densely wooded, the only sounds the soft lap of the lake against the shore, a chorus of birdsong and the insistent drumming of a woodpecker. Her jeans protected her from the sharp sting of nettles and the bite of insects and the sounds washed over her along with a sense of peace. Never, not once, had she considered it a mistake to move back here. She was in her element. She was aware that others might see it as a small life, but she saw it as a rich life. More importantly, it was the life she wanted.

They’d had an unusually dry spell, so all she had on her feet was running shoes. She breathed in air sweetened by the scents of summer and her heart lifted a little as the boathouse came into view. Splintered planks and spiders’ webs had been replaced by Lakeland stone, cedar and acres of glass. Todd had worked on the conversion, using locally sourced materials and extending it to provide luxury accommodation while still retaining the charm of the original building. The project had attracted attention from first the local press and then a Sunday magazine, providing a publicity boost that Todd had needed.

When he’d left the large architecture practice he’d worked for in London to set up on his own in the Lake District, Clare had been nervous but apart from the nagging worry about income, it had been a positive move. Aiden settled easily into his new school, and Clare discovered that she loved the slower pace of life.

This was her favorite time of day, early in the morning. The air was fresh and clean, the only sounds the call of the birds and the occasional splash of water against the shore.

Boulders framed the edge of this section of the lake, some shiny and smooth, others rough and ragged, the surface roughened by wind and water. Clare had stood on those slabs as a child, shivering with excitement and fear as her father had urged her to jump into the clear water. She’d seen tiny fish darting and a tangle of weed and then she’d plunged and gasped as the ice-cold lake water closed over her skinny body.

The place held nothing but good memories and they seeped under her skin, diluting some of those nastier feelings.

Stepping inside the place gave her a holiday feeling. It was furnished for the top end of the rental market, a place where people could either continue their life of luxury or find it for a few weeks.