Lose yourself in the majestic Pyrenees with chef Chloe as she entangles the secrets of her grandfather’s past.
When her grandfather died, Chloe promised she would take his ashes back to France, but when she reaches his native village, things begin to go wrong. There is even an attempt to poison her. Undaunted, she inveigles herself into the community and pairs up with Xavier, a handsome forest ranger. Confronted at every turn with shifting secrets and lies, she vows to discover why Pop was banished from this Eden.
‘I loved the blend of dry humour and extraordinary sensuality in the description of Chloe’s feelings. A cleverly-plotted and well-researched story.’
‘Tell you what…’ I threw Cosmo’s jacket over to him, ‘let’s drive over, sprinkle Pop over his lake and go on to Biarritz.’ I rubbed my arms. ‘This place gives me the creeps.’
‘I find it perfectly charming.’
It was all very well for Cosmo. All he saw were Herriberri’s terminally picturesque cobbled streets, whitewashed houses, blood red beams and garlands of drying chillies. For me, things had turned sour as soon as I had announced that I was Lazarro Etchegaray’s granddaughter. Whispers and side glances followed us down the street. A chill fell over the boulangerie whenever we stepped in. Conversations topped. The atmosphere may have escaped him, but it pervaded the town like a noxious vapour. What on earth had Pop done to warrant such animosity?
Women’s fiction/travel/France/book club fiction/ social issues/Caribbean
GERMAN ANTI-NAZI RESISTANCE FIGHTERS TOOK REFUGE IN THE CÉVENNES IN 1943, after Germany took over the free Zone. In the land of shist, chalk, chestnuts
The Larzac, a sparsely populated plateau in the department of Aveyron, came under public scrutiny in 1971 when the French army threatened to extend its
In 1764, a young shepherdess was killed and maimed by a wolf which went on to attack 300 people and kill a hundred. The Ferocious
In the Basque Country, Chloe realises that she does not miss Bletchley at all. ‘’I sat on a bench just below the church. Eyes closed,
I was half-way through writing The Bear and the Basque when we flew to the Basque Country for a research visit. We happened upon the
Paris 1905. My grandmother’s parents owned a grocery store near the Porte Saint Martin in the 10th arrondissement. She is the girl in the middle. The