“Alex, I’ve had a gentle day and I’m not tired. I’d love to join you both for coffee.” She looked up at him with expressive eyes, so that Alex’s objections melted.

“Only if you promise to let me light a fire and put you in a chair beside it.”

Thus she found herself comfortably settled with a pot of tea and Alex’s—or more probably his son’s—cat, Minty, on her lap, in a sunny high-ceilinged living room overlooking the trees in the square. She was taking in his taste, the details of the original gray marble fireplace, the fact that the room was just untidy enough to make it feel easy to relax; and she was very content. Alex was busy in an unbustling way in the kitchen, and she turned now to address both men and share some thoughts that had been gathering in her own mind for an hour or so, about their afternoon.

“Strange, at the church, didn’t you think? Not to have any remaining sign of Dee, no hint of his grave anywhere? And nothing of the house left standing, except for a bit of old garden wall. It’s as though all his earthly life was a dream, and only his spiritual self remains. The church has changed enormously since the early seventeenth century.” She said this with a note of sadness, but also insistence.

“Such stuff as dreams are made on?” Alex laughed. “But I liked the rather mythic account in the guidebook, that someone years later remembered him having raised a storm for Sir Everard Digby! A fitting piece of magic for the original Prospero!”

Simon was going to say something flippant to Lucy about the heavy-handed restoration of the Victorians in churches up and down the country, but he stopped short and changed direction. He had been watching her with growing interest, and suddenly flashed a look of recognition as Alex rejoined them and set a coffeepot down.

“Do you know, Lucy, I think you were right. I do know your face—it’s distinctive.” She looked at him mischievously and understood it was a compliment. “All through lunch I’ve been trying to work it out. Now I’m sure I saw you at the pub—the Phene Arms—a few weeks ago. I believe I gave you a thorough vetting…” He laughed self-consciously.

Lucy nodded slowly, and it registered: the man who winked at her on the rainy day of her hot-footed return. “Yes! Not in it—but I was passing on my way back to the Brompton. You’ve a good memory.” She’d thought he was cute then, and his face must have subconsciously remained with her.

“The odd thing is, I was on my way to lunch with Siân that day. I should have dragged you off the street to join us—a perfect stranger! But seriously, you two really clicked.”