‘That’s exactly what I’m looking for.’

‘Don’t you think there’s something a bit funny about the website? There’s something about it that doesn’t feel right.’

Franck had compared the page with a couple of other rental websites and found a few things that worried him. The house had clearly not been up on the website for long, as no one had left a comment or a review. Perhaps even more unusually, it was almost June and the gîte was still free for the whole of August.

‘I think that’s a good thing!’

For Lise, the fact that the house was still available when everything else was booked up was further proof that it was meant to be. They were meant to rent it. As for the lack of amenities, she had already come up with a plan. If there was no washing machine, she could already see herself washing their sheets in the river and hanging them outside to dry in the fresh air. There was nothing that could have put her off the house – more than anything she wanted to get back to nature, to practise meditation among the trees, to paint something other than city scenes and urban life, and to walk off the beaten track, safe in the knowledge she would not encounter another soul.

The person whose contact details were given on the advert seemed to take a long time to respond to emails, and when they did the messages gave little away. Twice Lise had dialled the 0065 number provided. The voice on the other end spoke neither French nor English, and when someone rang her back it was always at two or three o’clock in the morning and the caller never left a message. But the website was certified; it couldn’t have been a scam. In any case, Lise had decided not to let any of this worry her. This would be her approach to life from now on: she would let her instincts guide her.

Franck was also gradually coming round to the idea. He told himself that at least if it went badly, he would be proved right. He wouldn’t labour the point, he would simply say, ‘You know, I said from the beginning we’re not cut out for country living.’ He wasn’t worried; he knew it wouldn’t end up being three weeks there. Work would give him an excuse to make regular trips back up to Paris, and he would have plenty of ways to limit his time there. Unlike Lise, he had no desire to cut himself off from civilisation and not see anybody.

‘You know no one would come and visit us there, right?’

‘So that’s what you’re really worried about! You don’t think we’ll be able to cope for three weeks on our own, just the two of us, do you?’