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  We were  staying in the Camargue en route for Nice. It was the first time I’d been to that part of France  and I loved it; the black bulls in the fields and the herds of white horses grazing, languidly swishing their tails to flick off flies. By sheer chance we’d hit a festival in Saintes Maries de la …

Cat with the Cream There were so many cloudless days they ran into each other like a stream of blue handkerchiefs knotted by the night. Rose would wake to the heat of the sun as it filtered through the canvas and washed the orange lining of the tent. Stretching her body out beneath the sheets she licked her lips in …

Paraplui It had been an inauspicious start, a few banal comments in French. Rose could only manage a couple of phrases. ‘The swimming pool is open?’ The man nodded. He opened the white wooden gate to let her in and then she was alone looking on to the smooth surface of the water. It was even warm and as she …