Page 15 of A French Country Escape
Sasha had easily slipped into a routine of walking into the village early every morning to buy the breakfast croissants. Freddie had offered to do alternate mornings, but Sasha said she was more than happy to do it every day. The bakery opened at seven thirty and by eight o’clock Sasha was back home, enjoying a mug of coffee and tucking into her buttery croissant. This morning, she’d been held up a little when she’d stopped to study the ‘À vendre’ notices pinned up in thetabacwindow. One in particular had caught her eye and she’d taken a quick photo of it. Now, sitting at the table, she opened her phone and scrolled through, stopping to look at the photos she’d taken of Starlight, before reaching the new one. ‘Des chiots colley prêts pour leur nouveau foyer.’ There was a telephone number followed by a picture of three or four adorable pups cuddled together.
Sasha ate her croissant thoughtfully, her eyes focused on the photo all the time, trying to convince herself it was a bad idea – and failing. There had been a couple of dogs at home while she was growing up. Holly had been the last one and she’d died when Sasha was at college. Her mum had never had another dog and Sasha’s working life since had never allowed time for her to have her own. But now she was here in France, in her own cottage, she could have a dog if she wanted. As the advert was in the local shop, presumably the puppies were nearby. She’d ask Ingrid if she recognised the telephone number or knew anything about puppies being born recently, just in case it was a puppy farm.
A text pinged into her phone. To her surprise, it was Ingrid.
I’m off to Huelgoat market in about fifteen minutes. Would you like to come with me?
Sasha quickly typed her reply.
Yes, please. Be with you in ten.
Ingrid was sitting in the Land Rover waiting for her when Sasha arrived at the front of the château, and they were soon on their way.
‘How far is it to…’ Sasha hesitated. ‘Huelgoat?’
‘About thirty-five minutes. I have to tell you, it’s a very scenic route, some people get carsick. It’s up hill and down dale, the route I take. But the views are good for passengers.’
It was also a narrow, single track in places, Sasha realised, as Ingrid had to reverse into a small lay-by for a yellowLa Postevan to pass.
‘Do you drive?’ Ingrid asked.
‘I’ve got a licence, but I haven’t driven for several years. I’m not looking forward to driving over here, although I know I’m going to have to,’ Sasha said. ‘But Freddie is changing his car for a left-hand drive one soon, so once that arrives, I’ll have a practice. I’m sure it will be like riding a bike once I get going.’
‘Compared with other places, there’s not a lot of traffic up here,’ Ingrid said. ‘Which definitely makes life easier. And there is so much to explore.’
‘Have you heard from your daughter yet?’ Sasha asked.
Ingrid shook her head. ‘No, and I have to admit I’m getting worried. I just want to know she is all right. I’m almost at the stage of suggesting Peter go over to check on her, but I’m not sure how Penny would react to her father turning up and probably punching Rory on the nose!’
‘I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon,’ Sasha said. ‘She’ll know you will be worrying.’
‘Hope so,’ Ingrid said, braking at the bottom of a steep hill and indicating left.
‘Before I forget, do you know if there are any puppy farms in the village or locally?’
‘I sincerely hope not,’ Ingrid answered sharply. ‘Why?’
‘I saw an advert for collie pups in thetabacthis morning and was thinking of going to see them and possibly getting one, but not if it’s someone running a puppy farm.’
Ingrid laughed. ‘I can tell you now that if you go to see them, you will end up with one. There’s nothing quite so sweet as a collie puppy. I think maybe one of the local farm bitches has had a litter and the farmer doesn’t want to keep them all. That’s the usual thing around here. Jean-Paul will probably know.’
‘Thanks. There wouldn’t be a problem, would there, with us having a puppy on the estate?’ Sasha asked. ‘I’d make sure it was trained and everything.’
‘Not a problem,’ Ingrid said. ‘I’m almost tempted myself. Gladys is getting on now, though not sure how she’d react to a puppy in the house.’
Sasha’s first impression of Huelgoat was one of delight. The water in the huge man-made lake at the bottom of the town glistened in the sunshine as they drove past. The black and white Breton flag was flying above the foyer of the large hotel on the right-hand side as Ingrid took the one-way system up the hill before turning left into the bustling atmosphere of the market in the High Street.
‘What a pretty town centre,’ Sasha said, looking at the granite buildings lining either side of the street, the marketplace itself with its cherry trees full of pink blossom and filled with stall after stall.
‘It is, and the legendary magical forest behind the town is a wonderful place.’
Sasha glanced at her. ‘Magical forest?’
‘Ancient folklore links it to King Arthur; there are huge boulders, a fairy pond, a Devil’s Cave, and a very special atmosphere everywhere. We won’t have time to visit it today, but another day,’ Ingrid said.
Once Ingrid had found a parking space, the two of them wandered through the market for almost an hour, looking at all the different stalls. Flowers, plants, vegetables, jewellery, early-season strawberries, cheese, roast meat, buttons, pottery, clothes, handbags, books, home-made cakes, umbrellas and, tucked away at the end of the market, Sasha discovered a stall selling baskets of all shapes and sizes. The ‘Oh So French’ handmade, straw shopping tote with its flat leather handles was hers from the moment she set eyes on it. Now she lived in France, she should have one. Try to look as if she belonged even if she couldn’t speak the language fluently yet. The tote, a perfect size for shopping in the village, made her feel she was a part of the local scene swirling around her the moment she slipped the handles over her shoulders.
They wandered on down through the town and stood on the bridge by the lake. ‘May I treat you to a coffee?’ Sasha said, looking along the road where there were several pavement cafes.
