‘Because your idea of relaxing is planes and trips, and big groups. Being surrounded by other people, following a schedule, having a plan – that’s what you call a holiday?’

‘Well, anyway, your website says you need a 4×4 to get to the place. Look, it says there, “4×4 recommended”.’

‘OK, so we’ll rent one!’

‘Lise, do you know how much it costs to rent one of those things?’

‘Probably less than going on a cruise.’

The warnings about the track leading up to the house were unambiguous, and whilst Franck saw this as yet another reason not to take the house, for Lise it was further confirmation that she had found the perfect place. According to the description, the road leading up to the top of the hill was extremely steep and in poor condition, hence the need for a vehicle with four-wheel drive. To see for herself, Lise tried searching for it on Google Earth. There was no postcode, just the name of the local area, and she had to scroll over acres of emerald screen before she found the right place. This had to be the house; it seemed to be the only one for miles around. She could make out the track in question curving towards it. On-screen it was difficult to gauge how steep it was, a winding pale streak twisting away from the main road that stood out from its surroundings like a line of chalk on a blackboard. When they zoomed out they could see the house was surrounded by hills, trees and scrub, but no other houses. To the east of the house though, a flash of something sparkling caught their eye, a circle of light glittering in a dark patch of shadow. It could have been a ray of sunlight caught on camera or a reflective surface. Franck zoomed in further get a closer look, but all he could see was a white shape.

‘What do you reckon?’

He was already feeling oppressed by the prospect of three weeks out in the sticks with nothing but trees and hills for company.

‘I reckon there’s something fishy about this website.’

‘No, that bit of light over there – what do you think it is?’

‘I don’t know, Lise, probably a mirror or something. Or a pool of water.’

‘There you go. You can swim in that then!’

‘At least check if there’s reception up there.’

‘A reception?’

‘Phone reception, Lise.’

August 1914

August 1914

The bell at Orcières-le-Bas no longer chimed, but everyone in the village heard the alarm being raised across the countryside. The hellish toll of church bells frantically ringing tore through the sky from nearby Limogne and Villefranche. It would be some time before the village forgot that terrible sound. Every time the wind blew, people thought they could hear the desperate ringing that had plunged the country into terror on that sunny summer afternoon.