up a bit over supper. Anyway, whatever she’s here for, it will be nice to have company for a change this evening. And a new friend for you too, if only for a few nights.’
6
On the walk back to the campsite, Belinda’s thoughts darted here, there and everywhere. One minute she was mentally remaking a list in her head of things she needed to check out, the next she was stopping to admire the view and enjoy the fresh air. The countryside here was truly beautiful.
She turned off the road onto the campsite lane and, stepping around the potholes, made her way up towards the reception chalet. There was no sign of the 2CV she’d parked alongside earlier and when she climbed the steps to try it, the chalet door was locked. Part of her was relieved that Alain Salvin had taken himself off goodness only knew where, but another part was cross that he hadn’t stayed around. A relief in one way as she could now have a good nose around without him being there. Explore by herself, take some up-to-date photographs to show Nigel the current state of the place and try to start outlining a few basic plans for improvement. At the very least, get some ideas flowing around her brain.
Standing on the steps with her back towards the reception door, looking around, Belinda realised the main access path splintered into several routes, most of which appeared to disappear under a canopy of trees or out-of-control shrubs. Overgrown foliage on either side of one of the paths, though, had been cut back recently. Belinda screwed up her eyes in an effort to read a dilapidated sun-bleached wooden sign in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint that was pinned to a tall tree. It was impossible to make any letters out, but as it seemed a reasonably clear path, she’d start her exploration along it and see where it led.
BB whined at her and shook his head; his own inimitable way of saying, ‘Unclip the lead, I want to explore’.
‘Sorry, BB, you’re on the lead for now. I don’t want you getting lost,’ Belinda said, bending down and stroking him. ‘Come on, let’s brave the jungle.’
The path she’d chosen as her starting point led her deep into the campsite. Nigel had told her it was spread over roughly six acres and in its day had won awards for its spacious layout and beautiful unspoilt setting. Wandering along the path, Belinda struggled to imagine how the neglected site had looked in the past. It was going to take a lot of work before it recovered the way Nigel insisted it would.
As she wandered around, Belinda realised all the paths on the site looked to be interconnected to a path that went around the circumference of the place. Pushing her way along one of the paths, knocking flowers off the overgrown flowering camellia shrubs that crowded in, she stopped short. In front of her was a large paved area with several wooden picnic benches piled up around the edge and a brick-built barbecue and pizza oven. The entertainment area. To one side of it was a long stone building with ‘Café’ painted above the boarded-up entrance that Nigel had shown her a photo of. She rubbed some grime off the window and peered inside, but it was too dark to make anything out.
Walking past the building to where the path joined the main one that circumnavigated the site, Belinda stopped and looked over the hydrangea bush hedge and caught her breath as she saw the river and its path a mere fifteen metres away. Looking along the hedge, she saw what appeared to be a gap and moved towards it. To her delight, she found a wooden gate set into the space, which yielded when she pushed it and opened enough for her to squeeze through. A few yards down the path on the right, there was a backless wooden bench in desperate need of painting, but Belinda sank down onto it, grateful for its presence.
A small dinghy, moored close to the bank, was moving gently on the water. Belinda sat there for several moments, mesmerised as she watched a trio of ducks take flight. A heron landed gracefully upstream in the gently flowing water and an animal that moved too quickly in the water for her to be sure but was very otter-like in its movements swam before her. She’d forgotten how beautiful Brittany was, even on