Despite it being July, the barn felt cold, perhaps because it had very thick stone walls and had stood empty for a while. Lucy grabbed the visitor handbook and flicked through to the page that dealt with turning on the heating. Doing something practical was a lifeline, and what she needed now was a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. Everything would seem more positive in the morning. Cleo would be coming over, she would start to orientate herself by walking into the village, and the sun would shine again. On that thought she rang Cleo back to let her know she was staying at the barn and not the cottage but the call went to Cleo’s voicemail so she left a message to tell her sister where to find her and that everything was fine. Then, before she even got as far as the hot bath that she had promised herself, she crawled into the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

She dreamed that night. It wasn’t like the dreams she’d been having every night in hospital, the ones where she discovered to her horror that she was running around naked, or that she was about to sit an exam on a subject about which she knew nothing. She’d woken from those in a cold sweat and with her heart pounding, only to feel the familiar weight of anxiety swamp her when she remembered what had happened to her.

Tonight’s dream was very different. She fell into it almost as soon as she closed her eyes. It surrounded her. Yet even as it felt utterly real to her, she knew that she was in a very different time and a very different place. A vicious chill wrapped about her, biting into her bones and setting her shivering. Snow spiraled past, blinding her for a moment. She felt disoriented and nauseous. Then her vision cleared, the sun came out, and yet she still felt cold and cut off in some way from all reality.

She was standing on the top of a small hill, a mound with a spiral flight of steps cut into the side like the perfect curve of a cockleshell. The view was magnificent, a grand garden of terraces, ponds and orchards spread out in front of her, but she scarcely noticed it because she was aware only of her body and how odd and alien it felt. Her feet were damp and looking down she saw that they were encased in shoes made of some tapestry-type material that felt stiff and uncomfortable. They peeped from beneath the hem of a long dress made of blue velvet that was embroidered with silver knots and trimmed with pearls. Silver slashes in the sleeves matched the silver underskirt that fluttered in the breeze. The gown felt like a carapace and deeply unnatural as though she had not only put on someone else’s clothes by accident but their personality at the same time.

The same breeze that ruffled the gown was tangling her hair with the intricate headdress she wore, knotting it and pulling tight. Fair hair, she noticed, as she tried to free the long strands, golden as the ripening corn. Strange, when her hair had always been chestnut brown, cut short for convenience.