“Can you lean over, just a bit? Do you see that building, down below?” She pointed to a low wooden riverside structure. “That’s a boathouse. And in the boathouse there’s my father’s old boat, the one I told you about the first time we met. It’s just a rowing boat, nothing fancy like the Sparrowhawk, but Moune says with a bit of work it will be absolutely fine to take out. She even thinks we could have an engine fitted. Frank could help us with that, while he waits for his puppy to be old enough to take back to England. Moune says, if we want it, it’s ours. What do you think, Ben? You know, if we keep going west, we could reach the sea. There are marshes there like on the Thames, and huge beaches, and at the right time of year, there are seals …”

Ben listened, his head touching Lotti’s as she talked on, sketching out her plans.

Living at Barton Lacey! Summer holidays in France! Seals, and going west all the way to the sea!

It was mad. It was preposterous!

It was … irresistible.

Far below, the evening sun lit up the water.