purely practical: a couple of pairs of jeans, sweatshirts, T-shirts and two or three white long-sleeved cotton shirts. She felt ridiculously pleased when, having decided on a sweatshirt and jeans, underneath the sweatshirts in the drawer, she found the Breton striped top she’d bought on her visit home and hadn’t yet worn. Perfect with her best jeans and her wedge sandals.
There was no sign of Alain when she went downstairs, but the coffee machine was on and there was a note propped against it. ‘Bernie will have BB for the day. Can you walk BB down to him? As soon as Marie arrives, we’ll go. P.S. You need more than coffee. Have a croissant.’
Belinda forced herself to eat half a croissant and washed it down with her coffee. The way her tummy was churning she prayed it would stay put during the journey. Clipping BB’s lead on, she walked down to Bernie’s cabin. Still early, there were a few campers sitting out enjoying the early-morning sunshine quiet and eating breakfast outside. Bernie was sitting outside his cabin with a mug of coffee on a small table next to him, waiting for her. Ging was curled up again in the bicycle basket.
‘Demat, Bernie,’ Belinda said.
Bernie smiled. ‘Demat, Belinda,’ and he held out his hand for BB’s lead.
‘Trugarez,’ Belinda said, remembering the word for thank you in Breton. She bent down and stroked BB, who was already curled up at Bernie’s feet. ‘You be good. Au revoir,’ she said, trusting it was such a universal word that Bernie couldn’t fail to know it and waved before turning to walk back to the cottage to collect her bag, car keys and jacket.
There was a large Mitsubishi 4 x 4 car parked outside the office when she went to find Alain. Hopefully Marie would be able to deal with whoever had arrived and not delay Alain and her leaving. Belinda stood by her car waiting and wondering whether she should go and seek Alain out. Before she could climb the steps to the office though, he appeared.
‘Ready?’
Belinda nodded. ‘Yes. Who does that belong to?’
‘Me,’ Alain said, pressing the key fob. ‘Come on, in you get.’ He opened the passenger door for her.
Belinda couldn’t contain her surprise. ‘Yours? You’ve traded the 2CV in?’
Alain shook his head. ‘Non. The 2CV is for local trips and is fun. This, this is for serious journeys.’ Once she was in, he closed the door and walked round and got in the driver’s seat. ‘I’ve set the satnav for the quickest route. Should take under an hour.’
Belinda, thankful she didn’t have to concentrate on driving, sat lost in thoughts and memories that chased themselves around and around in her head as the miles flashed past. The car radio was switched to a classic station playing gentle piano music, the sort that could send you to sleep if you weren’t careful, Belinda thought. Alain, concentrating on his driving, glanced across at her once or twice but didn’t attempt to make conversation, something for which Belinda was grateful.
‘I’ve forgotten to buy him something. I should have brought a gift,’ Belinda said, suddenly in a panic at the thought of the forthcoming meeting. ‘Flowers or something.’
‘I think seeing you will be a gift enough,’ Alain said.
Belinda sank back down into her seat. ‘I hope you’re right.’
When Alain pulled up into a visitor’s parking space to one side of the hospice, Belinda didn’t want to get out of the car. Her legs seemed to be frozen into position and wouldn’t move.
‘Alain, I don’t think I can do this,’ she said.
‘Yes you can,’ Alain said gently. ‘Take deep breaths and think positive thoughts. You want me to go first and see if Enzo is well enough for visitors? I tell them who you are? I make sure that you don’t bump into Helena.’
‘Please.’
Alain got out of the car and walked round to Belinda’s side. ‘Come on, out you get. There’s a bench by the main entrance, you can sit there and wait. The fresh air will be good for you.’
Belinda sat on the bench waiting for Alain to return, trying not to shake with nerves. She’d had over twenty-four hours to psych herself up for this visit and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She needed more time – except there would never be enough time. She stared at the modern L-shaped single-storey building. Her father was in there dying. Wouldn’t it be better to keep her memories of him intact? Not destroy them by seeing him