Based on what Harry now thinks is Ruth's desire to stay in France, he's thought long and hard about where he'd like that to be. Leaving himself with something of a dilemma until she tells him. More than that, he doesn't want to influence her or make her feel that he's putting pressure on her by asking. Despite coming to the conclusion that the balance between them living in France or in the UK, is heavily weighted towards the former. His choice based on a whole raft of things, which he believes will give them opportunities that simply won't be available in a country that is half the size of France, but has the same population. Whereas here, they'll be able to carve out a completely new lifestyle, which they can develop over years and at a pace of their own making. Impossible in the UK, because no matter how hard they try, they won't be able to avoid being caught up in whatever is happening around them, despite the probability that their neighbours will change as often as the weather does. Because unlike the British, who are reputed to move house four times during their lifetime, the French tend to grow old gracefully in the place where they grew up. At least those who are a similar age to him do. A conclusion which had anyone suggested before he'd flown to Cyprus, he'd have rejected out of hand. Whereas now it feels as though it was what they were always destined to do. Because not only is France different, but so are they. At least the they they've become are. Where spontaneity, is turning each and every day into something of an adventure.

.

A decision that is still up for discussion as they leave the coast behind them. But with happy memories and with the promise to return one day and are heading towards the hidden and off the beaten track areas of Ruth's dreams. On a Sunday morning, the one day in the week when lorries are banned from using the motorways, so the drive is requiring less lane shifting and is more comfortable. Where they'll eventually rely on a system akin to pinning the tail on the donkey, when the time comes to decide where they'll spend the night, but for now, having left the interlinking motorway link on the outskirts of Toulouse, are cruising along a main road. A road which if they continue in the same direction, will see them arriving in Albi. The birthplace of Henri Toulouse – Lautrec and where the stunning Romanesque Cathedral, dominates the landscape. That it's named after Sainte Cecille who is the patron of music and musicians, is surely some sort of omen. Not today though, as Harry takes another turn onto and even quieter road, that will wind its way through villages which only ever show their full potential to party, on one of the numerous feast days or when a local couple get married.

All of which Ruth had got used to during her time travelling across the country, so knows that for the remainder of the year, unless of course the Tour de France comes through with all guns blazing, that life will trundle on uninterrupted. In an area, where the fields full of sunflowers, maize and vineyards, will be harvested in the time-honoured way in a few weeks from now as summer turns into autumn. So far removed from the fractious life she'd lived in Cyprus, that it's difficult for her to believe she's on the same planet. Here where rivers, the length and quite often the width of the Thames, carve their way through gorges and some of the most rugged landscapes in the country. The Garonne, the Tarn and the Lot, all of which are listed in the guide books as being in areas where during the winter you can go days and even weeks without seeing anyone other than your closest neighbour and where log fires are a far more economical means of heating than electricity. Reasons that her imagination is running away with itself and she knows she needs to curb it. Despite the prospect of waking up every morning next to Harry and knowing that on some days, other than lighting the fire, cooking meals and sometimes making love, not necessarily in that order, that there will be nothing else that they have to do.

Something which is proven when it's lunchtime and they have a choice of picnic areas at regular intervals to pull into, they choose one that is set in a quiet spot surrounded by giant pine trees. Far enough back from the road, that what little traffic there is they can no longer hear. Ruth aware that Harry intends making today a fitting goodbye to what has been a wonderful holiday, but beyond that she's not sure. Because they have no specific plans, other than when they reach somewhere they like the look of, they can just stop, or move on to the next. Neither of them knowing that what is about to be a throw away comment from Harry, followed by her response, will set off a chain of questions and answers that will surprise them both.

'Not your usual motorway services, is it,' he tells her, watching her laying out the picnic with the natural ease of someone who was born to live a life away from suburbia.

'You mean you can't see a backup team or a surveillance van, unless you count those two,' she counters, nodding towards a couple who are walking their dog in amongst the trees. A statement from another time and another place, when he'd believed that anything had been possible, just as he does now. One that he can't ignore, or stop the smile that the memory is bringing. A smile that only broadens when Ruth continues. 'By the way that you're looking at me now Harry, which isn't a million miles away from that night, I suspect that you want me to tell you what I've been thinking about?'

'That and a sandwich,' he tells her, backtracking slightly as he takes a bottle of water out of the cool box and pours her a glass. Only to be interrupted when a couple more cars pull in and a mutual 'bon appetite' is exchanged, before the interlopers sit at tables either side of theirs. Where even now in the great outdoors, the air around their table grows thinner. Both of them knowing that this is a pivotal moment, not only in their relationship but their lives. That the people who have stopped here are also on holiday, is evident by the luggage and the conversations that they can hear. People who may or may not be going back to work. To families and to busy lives, none of which applies to them. Which means that whatever Ruth is going to say has to wait and is replaced by chat about the merits of having a picnic and whether or not they need to stretch their legs before they set off again. The latter of which sees them following a path through the trees, until they are standing beside a lake. Where their only company is their combined thoughts and is why Harry suggests they sit down. The grass soft like a pillow and where the dragonflies which are skimming across the surface of the water are holding their attention. Until it's Ruth who cuts into the silence.

'This holiday has put me back together again, but up until now it's just been that. A holiday which we both know has to come to an end Harry. This may sound crazy, but please hear me out before you say anything. I think we need to put the brakes on a little,' and Harry's vision blurs. His well-rehearsed Marry me Ruth, gone. Replaced by an expression suggesting that he thinks that's it, only too evident. Which of course it isn't. 'Just to give ourselves time to prove what we both believe. Which is that we can live together long term and still feel as we do now. So how about we rent somewhere for say six months, by which time we'll have gone through a winter together. What better time is there than the spring to decide where we want to live. I haven't changed my mind Harry, I promise you. Please tell me that you understand.'

Harry who had been envisaging buying their forever home, knows he's breathing again. He's also silently conceding that he's always been more impetuous than Ruth. That despite loving her with every fibre of his being, that their relationship does need putting to the test under what will become the norm if they live here. On a daily basis and without the euphoria that a holiday always brings. Where life will throw them unexpected curved balls. Things that put every relationship to the test and more so in an area, where the winter weather is guaranteed to be harsh and where minor roads are certain to become impassable.

'You're right and I do understand,' he tells her. Her relief at his response and that the colours come back to his face evident.

.

That Ruth believes as he does, that they'll still be together and stronger for the experience, she doesn't leave there, but repeats when after another two hours of driving in bright sunshine, they've booked into a hotel for the night. In a small village in the Lot Valley. Where the river is in full flow after a thunderstorm and heavy rain the previous night. Thundering alongside a beautifully crafted stone wall and under a bridge, in a way that proves that it's not only humans that can be unpredictable. Where the autumn colours are far more vibrant than those on the south coast, and with the promise that she'll let Harry spoil her for one night and that in the morning they'll find out what is available to rent. Where now having unpacked, they're sitting outside on the terrace and enjoying a cold beer, despite the temperature being a few degrees lower.

A conversation that they revisit during dinner. In a restaurant which throughout the summer has been full of tourists. As opposed to now, when apart from a young Danish couple on a walking holiday, the remainder of the diners are locals. Locals who are making the most of what time is left, before the hotel closes for the winter, is information that they've been given by Pascale. The joint owner and at this time of year the only waitress, who is married to Remy the chef. That this is an area where people of all nationalities come during the season. To walk, to swim and kayak in river and to explore, in what Pascal has described as an incredible place to live. All of whom go home after their holidays. Which is a real bonus for Harry and Ruth. The anonymity that it will give them. By locals, who Pascale has assured them will take them to their hearts, providing that they make an effort to fit in and don't talk endlessly about what they did before they retired and how they're looking forward to their friends coming to stay. Where the wildlife outnumbers the people and according to Pascale, she's sure they'll be happy.

Happiness which is cut short, after they have climbed the staircase and are getting ready for bed. The moment when Harry had been planning on taking Ruth's proverbial brakes off, in a manner which would ensure that this particular night would be one neither of them would forget. In a four poster bed, where the crisp white sheets have already been rolled back to welcome them. Curtailed now, because unfortunately, or more precisely why would Harry, have explained his intentions to the young Danish couple who had left the restaurant before they did and despite being in a room at the far end of the corridor, they can hear enthusiastically and very verbally making love. Something which is making Ruth look at him, with a expression that suggests they should have come to bed earlier and giggles when Harry says, 'bollocks to this.'

.

His chance to reclaim what he'd imagined would be a one off, is handed back to him when they go down to breakfast the next morning and Pascale informs them, that the Danish couple have left. That providing that they don't mind a limited choice when it comes to dinner and are happy to sit in a small side room to eat it, that if they'd like to stay for the rest of the week while they look around for somewhere to live, that they're more than welcome to stay.

Followed after breakfast, by the offer of a local map and the recommendation that they should drive further along to Gorge to what is a larger village, which she thinks would provide a better base. Where in addition to the shops, there is a bank, a post office, three small schools, one of which is in the chateau and more importantly a lively local community. All of which sees them setting off with their spirits raised, along a road that twists and turns as it follows the course of the river on one side and a towering rock face on the other. Only opening up again after about nine kilometres, where a sign at the entrance to the village, informs them that there are several parking places and that the market is on Friday mornings. Where in keeping with the other cars, Harry drives slowly down the high street, before turning into the main square and parks up. A square which is dominated by huge plane trees whose leaves are falling and providing a carpet to walk on. Far quicker than the two men who are being paid to clear them.

'Coffee,' Harry suggests, looking around at the small café's that make up most of the premises in the square. Thinking that a few moments to get their breath back before they go in search of the Notaire's Office will be a good idea. Not knowing at this stage, but has a feeling, that they won't need to go any further to find a home where they'll be happy.