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And although they took things slowly, meandering down to the restaurant for a light lunch before Amber’s taxi arrived, the exercise seemed to absolutely exhaust her. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ Becky asked her, as she stopped for the second time to catch her breath.

‘Yeah,’ Amber said. ‘Too many late ones at work, not enough good food. You know what it’s like when you’re cooking for one.’

‘Sandwiches every night?’

Amber nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it. I’ve put on a ton of weight recently.’

‘Really?’ Becky glanced at her friend’s still slender frame. ‘Well perhaps you needed it.’

‘I need muscle mass maybe, but not… mayonnaise mass.’

Becky laughed. ‘Well, how about when I get back, we hit the gym together?’ she suggested, putting her arm around Amber’s back.

‘So you are coming back then?’

‘Of course I am!’

‘Just… you seem really happy here.’

‘Well… I am. Perhaps it’s just because I didn’t expect to be happy at all. It probably makes the happiness more noticeable. But you may have forgotten I have a job? A mother? A flatmate? I can’t abandon any of them.’

‘I don’t know, I’ve heard some strange rumours about the flatmate,’ Amber joked.

‘Don’t believe a word of them.’

After a simple meal of croque-monsieur, they took a walk a little farther down the village, meandered around the tiny, picture-book streets, before taking a seat on the cool stone of the fountain. ‘I can’t believe this is practically over already,’ Amber said. ‘I’ve really enjoyed getting away.’

Becky nodded. ‘Well, come again. Come every weekend. It’s been so nice having you.’

‘Sure I’m not cramping your style?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That Pascal’s quite the hottie!’

Becky laughed. ‘Pascal! I’ll admit, he’s gorgeous. But there’s zero chance of anything happening. He’s just tolerating me, I think. We didn’t get off to the best start.’

‘You seem pretty friendly now,’ Amber said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Well, he’s a nice guy.’ Becky thought again of Pascal’s deep brown eyes, his earnest expression. The way they were able to talk to each other so easily. ‘Maybe in another lifetime.’

‘One where you live in France?’

‘One where he lives in London.’ Becky gave Amber’s arm a little squeeze.

‘I’m not sure I’d come back.’ Amber tilted her head to let the sun play on her face. ‘Aren’t you tempted to just – I don’t know – run away?’

‘Become a barista?’

‘Become whatever you want to become,’ Amber said, her eyes sparkling and slightly wet.

‘You have this amazing chance – an income, a home with very little upkeep required. It was just… looking at Maud’s pictures.

She was so free, wasn’t she? She had the life she wanted, on her terms. She could do anything. ’

‘Seems so. Are you OK?’

‘Yeah. Just not many of us get to do that,’ Amber said, kicking a stone with her foot.

‘No. I suppose not. But you know, we’re young. We’ve got plenty of chances ahead. And I’m pretty happy with what I’ve achieved so far.’

‘But what about the burnout?’

Becky shrugged. ‘The price one pays for success.’ She imitated her mother’s voice.

But Amber didn’t laugh. ‘Are you sure it’s one you’re willing to pay? I’ve been thinking about that recently. How we’re willing to sacrifice years for the promise of things getting better.’

‘What about it?’

‘Well, whether it’s actually worth it? Selling our time for money when time is the most precious thing we have.’

‘’Course it’s worth it. Come on, that’s what people do, isn’t it? In our early careers. Work hard, reap rewards. You of all people should know that. Financial year-end last year, I didn’t see you for about three days.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well then.’

‘You can’t help wonder whether it’s worth it sometimes though.’

Becky put her arm around her friend again. ‘Come on,’ she said, firmly. ‘We’re on the path to living the dream.’

Amber laughed. ‘If you say so.’

The café had been closed for an hour, Pascal had gone out to a friend’s, so it was a surprise to see a figure outside when they drew closer. He had his back to them, and seemed to be leaning against the wooden window frame, checking his watch.

‘Visitor?’ said Amber, her voice slightly breathless again.

‘Not an expected one.’

‘Nice arse.’

‘Amber!’ Although she had to admit, she thought, looking, that her friend wasn’t wrong.

The man wore well-cut beige trousers, a white shirt.

Had some sort of blue jumper or cardigan tied around his shoulders so that the main torso part fell down his back.

His hair was black and thick, the back of his neck slightly red from too much sun earlier in the day.

He turned, and her heart sank. She recognised the black beard, the solemn expression. ‘Oh no. It’s Georges, the maire ,’ she said. ‘Remember, he was really rude to me the other day when I popped in.’

‘Yes, but you didn’t mention he was… gorgeous,’ Amber said, fanning her face with her hand.

‘Really?’ Becky looked again. Perhaps, objectively, he was. But the way he’d treated her the other day – making her feel foolish – had completely overridden any physical attraction she might have felt. She wondered what he wanted now.

‘ Bonjour ,’ she said, smiling, as they approached. He might be a grumpy sod, but he was still the maire . She didn’t know much about the administration in France, but it seemed sensible to try to keep on the right side of authority figures just in case.

‘ Bonjour, madame …’

‘Thorne. And this is my friend, Amber.’

‘ Enchanté ,’ he said, nodding his head. He smiled, looking completely different from the way he’d seemed in the office the other day. More relaxed, somehow. His startling blue eyes rested on hers and for a moment things seemed to pause.

‘Can I help you?’ Becky asked.

‘Oh, sorry. Yes, of course!’ He grinned. ‘Do not worry, I am not here in a professional capacity.’

It was a little relieving. ‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Although I did want to tell you that I appreciate what you are doing with the café,’ he added. ‘It is looking très respectable . People are talking about it in the town.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘ Oui , it is nice to see people making improvements. And you will still sell in perhaps two weeks?’

‘That’s the plan.’

He nodded. ‘ Parfait .’

Obviously, she’d wanted him to support her desire to sell the place, but it was a bit rich saying ‘perfect’ to someone’s face when they told you they’d be disappearing in a fortnight. ‘Well… OK,’ she said at last, adding, ‘What did you want, by the way?’

He seemed to shake himself. ‘Sorry, I am going to see your great-aunt. And I wanted to know if you have any message for her. Or perhaps if you would like to come with me. It is not my business perhaps, but it seems strange that you haven’t yet gone to see her.’

‘Oh.’ It seemed odd that he would visit Maud’s grave again. Had they been close? She’d have to ask Pascal. And a message? Unless he was going to conduct a seance, she couldn’t see how that would work out.

‘Yes,’ Georges nodded earnestly. ‘I will tell her all about the café, of course. And how you have settled. And I realise you have not been here long. But if she asks me where you are, I am not sure what I will say.’

Becky gave a little surreptitious glance at Amber. This was actually getting a little bit weird.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘ Monsieur , um…’

‘Call me Georges.’

‘OK. Look, Georges. I know that I should have been by now. It’s important to… pay respects. And you’re right, I’ve been busy. But I could probably have found a moment by now. I’ll try to go tomorrow, or the next day.’

‘So I can tell her this? Because,’ he grimaced, ‘she doesn’t have so much to occupy her at the moment and if I say that you will be there on Monday or Tuesday and you do not come, I know she will be disappointed.’

Clearly, Georges needed some professional help. Becky smiled. ‘Um, well, I’m not sure what you believe. And I respect your feelings. But in honesty, she’s not going to know if I am there or not, is she?’

Georges’s brow furrowed. ‘But of course she will know!’ he said. ‘Maud’s body has failed her a little, but her spirit is still strong.’

Becky took a step back. ‘I don’t mean to offend you,’ she said. ‘But I don’t believe in spirits.’

‘No?’

‘No. Not spirits, ghosts, whatever you want to call them.’

‘Ghosts?’

‘Yes. That’s what you’re saying, right? That you visit her grave and talk to her? That you sense she still understands you? Look. I know lots of people feel that way.’ She held her hands up as if to say she wasn’t trying to interfere with what he believed. ‘But I just can’t…’

‘Her grave?’

This was getting weird. Perhaps it was something to do with English being his second language. She wished she knew more French, but unless he was going to serve her a drink or tell her the way to the tourist information office, she was all out of vocabulary. ‘Yeah,’ she said uncertainly.

‘ Madame ,’ Georges’s voice was soft. ‘I am sorry. But I think there has been a misunderstanding.’

‘You can say that again,’ Amber said in a low voice.

‘ Non . There is no grave. There is no… spirit or ghost. Maud is not dead.’

‘I’m sorry… what?’ Becky became acutely aware of her heartbeat, its rhythmical thud inside her chest. Time paused, the air around her became thick and she put a hand out and gripped Amber’s arm. ‘She’s… Maud’s alive?’

‘ Oui . Maud is a good friend of mine. And I visit her every few days, along with another woman from the village who is at the same home. She is quite happy there. So I know that when she offered you the café and she did not hear from you, she was a little sad. When she heard that you came over, she thought you would visit. Did you truly think she had died? Because I am not sure how this misunderstanding happened. Or do you mean in a metaphorical sense? That she is dead to you? Is there some argument between you? Something I can help with?’

Becky felt her knees buckle slightly and leant against her friend. ‘Maud’s… she’s not… dead?’ she said.

‘Your aunt is not in the best of health, it is true. But she is very much alive.’