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the lawn with flower beds either side. In the summer it was a beautiful and relaxing place to sit, with trees on one side, giving plenty of shade from the sun. A small hedge separated the vegetable and herb garden beyond.
    Marcie stood at the edge of the terrace while Poppy sniffed around on the grass. Marcie’s eyes grew more accustomed to the dark and she watched Poppy head off on the trail of something. Probably a fox or a rabbit.
    ‘Poppy! Come here, girl!’ called Marcie as the dog disappeared through the gap in the hedge to the vegetable garden. Marcie walked across the grass. Poppy gave a whine and then barked excitedly. ‘Poppy! Leave the rabbits alone.’
    The moon slid behind a cloud and the wind whipped up, blowing Marcie’s hair around her face. Marcie paused as she reached the hedge. An unexplained feeling of apprehension came over her.
    Poppy continued to yap. It wasn’t aggressive, but she was definitely excited by something. There was a rustling and Marcie could hear movement amongst the dead leaves. It sounded too heavy to be a rabbit. A fox, then? A small flash of light in the field caught her attention. She peered into the blackness trying to locate it again but it was gone.
    The sound of more movement, this time behind her, made Marcie jump and she gave a small scream. The spun round and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
    ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Will. ‘I was just coming to tell you not to stay out here too long in those wet clothes.’
    ‘I’ll come in now. All that talk of ghosts has got the better of me,’ said Marcie.
    ‘Just stories,’ said Will. He whistled to Poppy who came scampering back through the hedge. ‘There’s no-one out here.’
     
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    The following week trundled along in the gentle French style Marcie was accustomed to. She could feel herself beginning to relax and the stresses of her London life slowly, but surely, slipping away.
    She had been out on a walk with Will several times over the week, only declining on one occasion so her and Lisa could take a day trip down to the coastal town of Vannes for a bit of shopping, lunch and girly chat. Even that was at the typically laid back pace of the French, lunch being a leisurely affair of nearly two hours.
    Marcie wasn’t convinced about the French fashion but managed to find a couple of bargains. With Christmas on its way and no job, she would have to be careful with her money. She’d start seriously looking for work when she could face going back to the UK. Her friend, Emily, had said there might be a job coming up at her place of work but Marcie wasn’t over excited at the prospect of another admin job. At least Marcie’s employer, make that former employer, had the decency to give her three months’ notice on the flat. She had until the new year to find somewhere else to live.
    When Marcie awoke one morning, the relaxed feeling that had taken hold of her, seemed to have moved up a gear. For the first time since all the trouble back in London and since she had been here in France, she actually had the urge to play her flute.
    The black case had rested accusingly on top of the chest of drawers since her arrival. Walking over to it, Marcie unclipped the silver catches and looked at the instrument snuggled in the black folds of the fabric. Her fingers tingled and automatically moved up and down as if playing the scales. She closed the lid and took a quick shower. It was too early to play the flute in the house but the wood store would make an excellent music room, far enough away from the house not to be heard.
    With her hair still damp from the shower, Marcie headed for the wood store, her booted feet cutting a trail through the dew laden grass. She gave a shiver, wishing she had put on a thicker jumper. Winter had well and truly arrived here in the Breton countryside.
    It was dark in the wood store, with only a small battery lantern to cast any light in the