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I join you? If you'd like to, of course. There's a pub where they serve a reasonable lunch. Very simple though." 
    This was only the second time that Sara had spoken to Gillane. In contrast to the first, his manner was now cheerful, almost familiar, as if she had run into an old friend. At easily a foot taller than she, Sara could see how Gillane intimidated the shorter folk in Glymeer. The clean lines of his jacket, the spotless white cotton shirt underneath: his appearance made him look like he was very much a stranger to these parts. 
    Sara stood there thinking of Sarah Lunn. The young girl would have willingly surrendered to this stranger. Guillaume Gillane stuck out in Glymeer because he didn't belong. That didn't mean he was a murderer though. 
    "Yes," she decided. "What a good idea. Let's have some lunch." 
    "Good."  Gillane placed his hand on her elbow and steered her along.  
    "I'm afraid there's not much of a choice in Goldarn. Many of the eating places rely on the farmers to supply them. But the food's fresh and in season." 
    They had cut across the square and turned off onto a side street. 
    "Amazing don't you think, to find such a large square in an English village?" ventured Sara, suddenly fascinated with English history. 
    Gillane smiled at her before replying. 
    "Very observant, I see. I don't know the history really. Folklore suggests that the square was originally a huge marketplace for the surrounding villages. Maybe that's the answer you're looking for." 
    They wended their way onto yet another side street. The cobblestones were digging into Sara's heels. The few people about stopped to stare at them curiously.  Sara felt Gillane's hand on her shoulder.  They were standing outside The Cow On The Roof.  
    "Shall we go in?" he asked and appeared relieved when Sara laughed. 
    "What a hoot!" Sara exclaimed, "I've been to a bar with the same name. In the South of France!" 
    The Cow On The Roof provided the standard pub fare one would expect: stodge, meat, lager. Sara chose roast lamb from the menu. Gillane opted for the beef. 
    "Well this is turning into a feasting holiday." she laughed 
    "What do you mean?" 
    "I hardly eat in London. Or cook. Now that's all I'm doing." 
    "Is it really?" 
    Sara braced herself. He knew. He knew. He hadn't really run into her. This man looked too composed to leave anything to chance. Suave even a bit smug, sitting there drawing deeply on his cigarette. 
    "Forgive me. Can I offer you a cigarette?"
    Gillane held out the box towards her.   Sara pulled out her own cigarettes from her handbag. 
    "No thank you, I'll have mine." she replied. 
    Gillane leant over to offer her a light.   Thankfully, a waitress arrived and placed two pints of lager between them. 
    "Cheers."
    Gillane held his glass to Sara's.  Sara nodded sheepishly, unable to match his gaze. 
    "How long have you lived here?" she asked, wetting her lips with the bitter ale. 
    Gillane's glass was also at his lips so she was obliged to wait for the reply. His eyes however did not leave her face. 
    "Twenty years or so. I came here in 1968. I needed a change." 
    "A change? How intriguing." Sara urged him on, hoping he would elaborate.    
    "I suppose all of us dreams of giving it up at some stage. I needed to get away so I chose Glymeer. The opportunity came along and I took it." 
    Sara pressed on, ignoring her knees trembling under the table. 
    "May I ask where you're from originally?" 
    "Have you got five hours?" Gillane smiled but was obviously bored by the question.  "France, Italy, England. I've lived in all three." was all he would say. 
    The waitress interrupted them again, this time to deliver their order.   
    Despite the unease she felt, Sara enjoyed her meal. Traditional British cooking that comes out right every time. Roast meat, potatoes, gravy and the quintessential soggy vegetables. 
    She observed that Gillane's table manners were excellent. Very natural, not forced.