Geoffrey wagged his tail slightly, as though agreeing.

“The trouble is,” Finn said, looking slightly sheepish, “Geoff won’t go inside the building. He’s fine out here, but whenever I try to get him over the threshold, he just refuses point-blank. On the day we arrived he sat by the door whining and I couldn’t even tempt him inside with food. Eventually, as Gunpowder Cottage was empty, we moved in there instead.”

“You mean he literally won’t set foot inside the barn?” Lucy looked at Geoff, who looked back at her with sorrowful brown eyes. “Why not?”

“Some animals are very susceptible to a sense of atmosphere.” Cleo passed Finn a plate of homemade biscuits. “Perhaps there’s something here that Geoffrey is aware of that we’re not.”

“A ghost cat, perhaps,” Lucy said sarcastically. She loved Labradors but didn’t think they were the most sensitive of animals. Geoffrey gave her a reproachful look as though he had read her thoughts.

Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever the reason,” he said, “it’s probably best that we move back down here so that you can stay in the cottage. It’s what you agreed to with Verity and I appreciate you’ll be more familiar with it since you stayed there as a child. Geoffrey will be fine. He will come inside sooner or later if he’s hungry enough.”

“Oh, Lucy wouldn’t do that to you—or to Geoffrey,” Cleo said. “She was telling me just before you arrived how fabulous it is here!” She gave Lucy a meaningful look. “You’re fine here, aren’t you, Lucy?”

“Totally,” Lucy said, sighing. She didn’t particularly mind staying at the barn, which was indeed palatial, but she did mind Cleo rushing in to decide for her. “I can’t be responsible for adding to poor Geoffrey’s neuroses, I suppose,” she said. “Let’s leave things as they are.”

Finn’s brows snapped down. “Are you sure? The climb up the hill is quite steep, which isn’t ideal for anyone recovering from illness—”

“Who told you I’d been ill?” Lucy felt a sharp stab of irritation that he knew. It felt as though her privacy had been invaded.

Both Finn and Cleo looked taken aback at her tone. “I told Finn.” Cleo leaped into the breach. “And I expect Verity did as well.” She covered Lucy’s hand with her own. “We’re only trying to look out for you, Luce.”

Lucy pressed her lips together and blinked hard. She wanted to pull her hand away from Cleo’s, to snap at her and reject the sympathy, but she managed to control her anger. This wasn’t Cleo’s fault. It wasn’t Finn’s fault either. She was tired and miserable and needed to pull herself together and be grateful that people cared.

She stroked Geoffrey’s ears for comfort and he turned his nose into the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said gruffly. She looked at Finn, flinching in expectation of the pity she would see in his eyes. “I appreciate your concern,” she said, “but I’ll be fine here at the barn.”