Mr Auty arrived promptly at eight o’clock with his two sons. One of them, William, spoke good English so he translated between Freddie and his father. Freddie described his route and Mr Auty worked out where the car had crashed.

The air was fresh and sharp as the small group set off into the mountains. The sun had not yet cleared the top of the nearest hill. The early morning chill pinched at Freddie’s cheeks but the bad weather of the previous day had gone. The sky was an endless blue, unbroken by clouds.

They left the village by the path Freddie had taken the afternoon before. As he looked around, it seemed as if spring had come overnight. The leaves on the oak and beech trees were coming into leaf. There was colour everywhere, in the meadows, in the woods up ahead, in the pale sun rising behind the mountain. He remembered Marie’s description of the country-side. It was so precisely a mirror of what he saw. He was certain she had been talking about this valley, these mountains.

The four men crossed the bridge. Today the river was fast-flowing, but no longer threatening to burst its banks. Freddie saw the silver flash of fish in the stream. The green river weeds shimmered in the current, swaying this way and that. It was all so calm, so peaceful.

After a quarter of an hour, they reached the outskirts of the woods. Freddie pointed out the path he had followed. In single file, they left the brightness of the fields for the shade of the wood.

The path was steep and uneven. Yet it seemed an easier walk than yesterday, Freddie thought, even though they were walking uphill. The easy company of Michel and his two sons, the sun, the lack of wind and rain, all lifted his spirits. Today, Freddie no longer felt the presence of ghosts in the woods.

Before long, they arrived at the point where the footpath went up on to the road. Freddie pointed up the hill and they walked on in single file. In the trees, Freddie heard birdsong. There was a blackbird, a thrush, maybe even a robin. His brother had loved to be outside and knew the different calls of the birds. Freddie smiled. They seemed such English sounds to hear in a French country wood. A hawk wheeled overhead.

The sun was nearly up behind the mountain now. Its bright rays painted the surface of the leaves gold. After another five minutes, the rescue party reached the spot. To Freddie’s relief, his Ford was just where he had left it. It had neither fallen over the cliff nor come loose from the tree. William took the coil of rope from his shoulder and fixed it around the front bumper. With his brother’s help at the rear, they pulled. Slowly, the car was dragged back up on to the road, little by little.

The air was still cool, but it was hard work and the sun was hot for April. Michel, sweat glistening from his brow, looked the car over. With his drooping grey moustache and thick eyebrows, he looked more like an opera singer than a mechanic. But he seemed to know what he was doing.

He pointed at the axle, then at the front wheel arch, which had buckled. Next he kicked the side panel with the tip of his boot. With William’s help translating, Freddie was left in no doubt that there was a fair amount of damage. It was going to be far from easy to fix. From the look on Michel’s face, it looked as if the car was going to need quite a lot of work to get it back on the road. And, no doubt, it would cost. But they were talking too fast for him and their accents were strong.

While the men debated, Freddie settled himself on a boulder to wait. The sun, the smell of the pine trees, the gentle cry of the birds in the trees were all restful. He realised he felt calm. He felt more peaceful than he had for some time, in fact for as long as he could remember.

He found his mind straying to Marie. Freddie looked up at the great wall of rock ahead of him. Then he saw it. Slowly, he got to his feet and looked harder. Was it was just a trick of the light? He shielded his eyes. High up in the hills above him, he could just make out an opening in the rock. There seemed to be no way up. He tilted his head back to get a clearer view.

No, it was there. The mouth of a cave, carved into the mountainside. To the left, there was another opening, a little smaller, a little lower. Like two hollow eyes in a skull. A little further over, there was another cave.

At that moment, William put his hand on Freddie’s shoulder. Freddie jumped.

‘There is some damage to the chassis,’ he said. ‘My father can have it towed to the garage. Once he has examined it properly, he will have a better idea of how much work needs to be done.’

Freddie was not listening. ‘Are those caves up in the mountain?’ He pointed. ‘There, just above that ridge?’

William followed the line of his finger, then nodded.

‘Is it possible to get up there?’ Freddie asked. ‘From here, I mean.’

‘You could climb up from the road, but it would be hard going. There is an easier path out of the village to that part of the mountain. Through the woods, not the fields.’

Freddie felt a memory slide across the surface of his mind. ‘The woods?’

William nodded. ‘The woods come down closer to the village at that point. It is a more sheltered route.’ He looked at Freddie with his patient, unhurried face. ‘So, shall we take the car back to the garage, or . . . ?’

Freddie was still looking up into the mountain. ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Whatever your father advises, that is fine.’

William went to talk to Michel, who gave Freddie the thumbs-up sign and a wide smile. With Paul’s help, Freddie got his bag out of the boot. He changed his shoes for his proper hiking boots. Then, with William carrying his case, they set off back to Larzat.

As they stepped off the main road, Freddie gave a last glance over his shoulder. He could no longer see the opening to the cave. But it was enough to know it was there. A plan was already forming in his mind. If, as he feared, his car would not be ready today, then he would climb up and explore.

If he could not find any trace of Marie in the village, then maybe he would have better luck finding the cave itself.