Over the next few days living in the house together, Belinda and Alain slipped into a comfortable routine without noticing it happen. Alain was always up first to shower and leave the bathroom free for Belinda. By the time she went downstairs, coffee was ready and fresh croissants from the village bakery were on the table. Some mornings, Alain was still around and joined her for breakfast before they left for the short walk across to the office together.
It seemed only fair to Belinda that the afternoons when she was home first she organised supper for them both. Nothing fancy, she knew her limitations. The shop was opening for a couple of hours every day now and Belinda picked up various cold meats, salad stuff and fresh bread on the evenings she did supper for the two of them.
After supper, they settled in for a couple of companionable hours together in the sitting room. Whether by accident or design on both their parts, the ongoing work on the campsite was rarely mentioned. The evenings were getting warmer and they were able to open the French doors onto the little terrace. Sometimes they watched TV, but mostly they read. Belinda a book and Alain one of his endless car magazines. Conversation was limited but friendly and the silences were becoming those that happen between people who were becoming comfortable with each other.
Alain went out every evening at about ten o’clock to check all was well on the campsite and Belinda usually said goodnight then and went to bed before he returned.
One particularly lovely evening, she stood up with him.
‘Mind if I join you tonight? It’s such a lovely evening, I fancy a walk.’
‘Bring a jacket, it’s always a bit cooler down by the river at this time of day,’ Alain said.
A couple sitting outside their camper van with a glass of wine called out ‘Bon nuit’ as they walked past. The other two nearby vans had their lights on and curtains drawn, the muted tones of TV programmes could be heard. Bernie was sitting outside of his cabin, Ging curled up on his lap. Belinda stood and smiled at him as Alain had a brief conversation with him, before they moved on down towards the river.
Belinda gave a happy sigh. ‘I love this part of the site. The noise of the upstream river weir, the ducks, watching the herons. I can’t wait to show it all to Chloe and the twins when they arrive. I’m so pleased she’s coming for a holiday.’
Alain, staring out over the river, nodded. ‘My son used to love it here.’
Belinda turned to look at him. ‘He doesn’t come here any more?’
‘No. He’s thirty this year and lives in Canada now, so he’s got all the wide-open spaces he needs. I rarely see him these days.’
‘That must be hard,’ Belinda said quietly.
‘I am used to it. He lived with his mother after the divorce and seeing ’im has always been difficult. Especially when I lived in Africa. His mother refused to let ’im travel there.’
‘What were you doing in Africa?’
‘I oversaw several charitable projects building schools for the local children,’ Alain said briefly, keeping his gaze on the river.
‘Sounds like a rewarding thing to have done.’ So, not a mercenary then. Working for a charity was more in tune with the kind of man Alain was turning out to be, Belinda realised.
Alain nodded at her words.
‘Did you come home because of your parents? To help them?’
‘Oui. They’re at an age when they need me around. Although if you’d heard my maman telling me off the other day for not wearing a coat, you’d think I was still six years old.’ He paused. ‘And there was this place of course.’
‘Were you upset when you discovered Nigel now owned it?’
‘Non. It stops my parents worrying about money and they’re ’appy for me to have a job while things sort themselves out.’
Belinda waited for him to explain what things needed sorting out, but he stayed staring out over the river.
‘Were you living with them before the cottage was ready? Or have you got your own place in the village?’
‘I was back in my old childhood room with them. Still covered with motorbike posters.’ Alain grinned at her. ‘A virtual time warp.’
‘Did they mind you moving out again so soon?’ Belinda asked. Then, as something Alain had said the day she did her first site inspection flashed into her mind, she turned to look at him. ‘Hang on, why are you still living in the cottage now I’m back? Why haven’t you returned to your parents’ place to keep an eye on them? You told me you had no intention of living on site until the season started properly.’
Alain returned her glare with one of his own. ‘And leave you living on site by yourself? Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t accuse me of being a chauvinist again. It’s the way I was brought up – you don’t leave any woman in a vulnerable situation.’
‘We’re in the middle of the countryside, not the inner city,’ Belinda said. ‘There are campers around. I have a phone to call the gendarmes if I have to. And I have BB. I don’t need looking after. You should be looking after your parents.’
‘Like it or not, I’m staying put in the cottage until you leave for good. Now let’s get back,’ and Alain waited for her to start walking before he fell into step alongside her.
Back at the cottage, Belinda said a polite bon nuit and went straight to her room to get ready for bed. She supposed she should be grateful that Alain was such a gentleman. The campsite was in an isolated position and under the cover of darkness it could be eerily spooky with the owls calling to each other and the nocturnal animals rustling through the bushes as they hunted for food. But she’d have coped. Although, if she was honest, she did sleep better knowing that there was someone else in the house with her. Any emergency and help would be instant.
Perhaps she was overreacting? It had been a long time since anyone had thought to protect her from real or imagined trouble. Despite their differences, she liked Alain and after their conversation this evening, knew he had hidden depths that he kept well concealed. She was beginning to value his friendship and didn’t want them to fall out. Tomorrow at breakfast she’d apologise and lay the blame on becoming fiercely independent since her divorce.