“Well, that sounds exciting,” Finn said. “But don’t forget that even if you are under the influence, I’m not. So if you turn around and tell me that none of this is real I’m going to be pretty damn disappointed.”

Lucy laughed. “If you put it like that—”

“I do,” Finn said. He kissed her gently. “I’ve got to get to work,” he said, “but I predict Cleo will already have texted to check up on you and to tell you to take it easy. I hope you’re going to take her advice.”

“I will,” Lucy promised, “except like I said, there’s going to be a lot of admin and before I get started, I need some fresh air.”

“Well,” Finn said. He checked his watch, “Johnny’s coming down soon. Do you want to walk down the valley with us? We’re starting to draw up a rough design of how we think the lake complex and summerhouse would have looked when it was first built.”

“Great,” Lucy said, “I’ll have some breakfast and then head down there with you.”

Geoffrey greeted them both like long-lost friends, his tail circling like a helicopter blade, whilst Johnny was somewhat less effusive but still very warm in his greeting.

“Thank God you’re all right,” he said to Lucy. “What a horrible thing to happen.”

“I was pretty shaken up,” Lucy admitted, “but there’s no lasting damage other than to the car.”

“The word in the village is that you skidded to avoid someone on the road,” Johnny said. “It’s all over the Facebook discussion group.”

Lucy and Finn exchanged a look. “How do people know that?” Lucy demanded. “I told the police but no one else.”

“I think a witness might have come forward,” Johnny said. “No one knows really but you know what villages are like for gossip.”

“I expect I’ll get the full story from the police later,” Lucy said with a sigh. “They’re coming in three-quarters of an hour.”

It was a beautiful clear day, but the stream still roared down the hillside from the storm two nights before and broken branches were littered around. The valley path was muddy but passable.

“It’s strange how there can be so much water for a little while and then it all disappears,” Lucy said. “I suppose that’s why it can be so dangerous to be caught in a flash flood. For a while there’s so much volume and it has nowhere to go and just destroys everything in its path.”

“I’m afraid the old oak was struck by lightning,” Johnny said, indicating the tree Lucy and Finn had sat beneath on the night she had seen the fire ripping through the pavilion. The trunk was split straight down the middle and one branch was resting in the water. “Such a pity because it was one of the trees that might conceivably have been here when the original Tudor garden was built—” He stopped, his tone changing. “Shit, what’s that?”

As Johnny froze, Finn and Lucy turned to see where he was pointing. A body that had previously been concealed behind the fallen branch was bobbing in the shallows, facedown, one arm outstretched. It appeared to be wearing a long black cloak that was floating on the surface of the water. The hood had fallen back and the figure’s bright fair hair was spread in an aureole about their head. All these details seemed to imprint themselves on Lucy’s mind in a split second against the incongruous backdrop of the glorious blue sky and the puffy white clouds and the placid peace of the pool.