cook, but even I could be tempted to try my hand here,’ Belinda said. ‘Did you design it?’
Fern nodded. ‘I’ve always longed for a large, heart-of-the-home-type kitchen, and I finally got my dream here. A bit late in life as the kids are all independent these days so family meals rarely happen.’ She shrugged and changed the subject. ‘Milk and sugar?’
Belinda shook her head. ‘Just a dash of milk, please.’
Fern poured two cups and passed one to Belinda.
‘What about luggage? No offence, but you don’t seem the type to travel without a change of clothes, but I didn’t see a car outside.’
‘My car’s the other side of the village.’ For some reason, Belinda hesitated saying where it actually was. ‘I had lunch in the bar and they gave me directions here. BB needed a walk too,’ Belinda smiled. ‘Talking of lunch, do you do evening meals? Can I eat here tonight? I don’t need anything fancy – an omelette would be fine.’
‘I can do better than that,’ Fern said, hesitating. ‘I do have an official dining room, but do you fancy a kitchen supper with just the two of us? Unless you’d prefer to eat alone?’
‘Kitchen supper for two sounds ideal,’ Belinda answered. Company and a friendly face would probably be more than welcome after the next few hours at the campsite. ‘I’ve got some business things I need to sort this afternoon, not least collecting my car. I’ll be back around six, if that’s okay?’
Fern nodded. ‘Supper at seven then.’
Belinda, relieved that Fern didn’t ask any questions, quickly finished her tea before snapping BB’s lead on. ‘Bye for now then. I’ll see you later.’
Fern closed the front door behind Belinda and, already planning the meal she’d cook for the two of them, returned to the kitchen, Lady trotting at her heels. It was good to have someone to cook for again. Christmas, when the girls were home, had been the last time she’d done any proper cooking. This evening she fancied cooking chicken in red wine – her version of the French classic coq au vin, followed by a cheeseboard in true French style. She had a rather nice gorgonzola and a wedge of Cantal in the fridge. If Belinda wanted something sweet afterwards, there was a chocolate cake which would go well with coffee. There, that was supper sorted.
Opening the freezer drawer and taking out a couple of chicken breasts, Fern couldn’t stop wondering what Belinda was actually doing here in Brittany, particularly at this time of the year. Not many people chose to come before winter was completely over. Maybe she had business in the area? She’d said she had a few things to sort out this afternoon, but the village didn’t even boast a small ‘zone industrielle’ – the French equivalent of an out-of-town shopping and small industry centre. There were a couple of local artists and a writer tucked away in their own cottages busy creating, while down on a secluded stretch of the river a young couple had recently started a trout business, but that was the extent of business in the area – apart from the bar tabac, the village shop and boulangerie of course.
Preparing the veg to go with the chicken, Fern thought about the run-down campsite on the other side of the village and dismissed the thought instantly. No way could she see Belinda being involved with that. Belinda struck Fern as someone who liked her home comforts. She knew without asking that Belinda would detest the idea of shower blocks and rows of communal toilets.
Maybe Belinda was house hunting? There were so many places currently on the market, she’d be spoilt for choice. She was too young to retire, so perhaps she fancied a holiday home? Pulling the cork on a bottle of red Bordeaux, Fern poured it thoughtfully over the chicken she’d placed in the Le Creuset casserole dish. If she was looking to buy somewhere, would a friendly warning about the pitfalls of buying a property in the heart of the French countryside from a stranger be welcome? Until you’d experienced these pitfalls, you’d never know they even existed. And Fern was now an expert in dealing with the unexpected problems that living in France threw up. If she hadn’t had Laurent smoothing the way in the beginning when she first arrived, she doubted she’d have coped.
‘I’ll have to wait and see, won’t I?’ Fern said, glancing across at Lady snuggled in her basket. ‘Maybe Belinda will open