‘You have to keep the sun on your right-hand side.’

She told him to keep his bearings that way. As if she were suddenly a hiking expert.

‘It’s the same on the way back; you just need to keep it on your left. It’s easy.’

Franck thought she must have found this piece of advice in some guidebook when she was getting ready for the holiday. ‘Keep the sun on your right-hand side’ – that didn’t sound like her. His phone still had no signal, and searching for one was running down the battery, especially as he hadn’t charged it. He really did wonder how they would get back. Relying on just the sun to know you were going in the opposite direction was surely too simple. What’s more, they weren’t going in a straight line. They were constantly zigzagging through the jungle of tangled vegetation. Low branches blocked their way and they had to keep ducking underneath them, while bushes and branches clung to them like hands, desperate to stop them coming through. They could only really see the path in the sections where the grass was less tall. The sun was sometimes behind them as the path meandered, disappearing behind the trees and then re-emerging in a gap in front of them. Franck remembered what the owner of the bistro had said about the tracks around here; they were totally overgrown. Here, nature had won the battle. As well as the branches that blocked their way, the ground was strewn with dead wood, thorny bushes and creepers, making it difficult to walk. He understood why nobody came here for motocross: you would only be able to get through this treacherous maze on foot.

Lise moved effortlessly, sailing past the obstacles. She had no trouble with the walk, but Franck was finding it harder and harder to keep up. He was assessing his fitness as he went: he clearly didn’t do enough exercise. She walked ahead without stopping even once, not at all bothered by the heat and apparently enjoying herself, while he was out of breath and dripping with sweat. But he told himself that was hardly surprising given how uneven the terrain was and how hard it was to keep his footing. With every step he slipped on stones and his shoes slid over roots or dry ground. He thought about the load on his back weighing him down, the picnic and the bottles of water, plus the two foam mats and box of watercolours. Sometimes Lise got way ahead, by twenty, thirty, fifty metres. When she realised she had gone too far, she stopped to admire the scenery and quietly waited for Franck to catch up with her, asking him with an uncertain smile, ‘Sure you’re OK?’

‘Yes. All good!’