“I think he was looking for some help with the paperwork, not someone with a PhD in renaissance gardens,” Cleo said dryly. “I was surprised he asked you, actually. Verity said he hadn’t gone anywhere near the documentary side of things since Charlie died. Too painful for him, I imagine.”

“Yes.” Lucy felt another pang of sympathy for Finn. “Absolutely ghastly. I’m surprised he didn’t quit the project altogether.”

“Verity said Finn was determined to complete it as a tribute to his brother,” Cleo said. “Charlie was so sure they were onto something amazing, according to Verity. He hinted at a really exciting find—not just the garden but something even more historically significant that was associated with it.” She gave a little sigh. “I guess we’ll never know now what that was. But Finn’s keen to see the garden reconstruction through.”

“How did the accident happen?” Lucy asked. “Was anyone else involved?”

“Fortunately not,” Cleo said. “No one seems to know quite why or how it happened. It was on the road to Wantage. Charlie’s car came off on a straight stretch, ploughed through a hedge and down a bank. He was thrown clear and killed.”

Lucy shuddered, thinking of the long, straight stretches of tree-lined country road, dark tunnels that might tempt a driver to go too fast only to trick them with a sudden turn or adverse camber. Perhaps a pheasant had run out in front of Charlie’s car, or a small animal had made a dash across and he had swerved to avoid it. A split second, and then the loss of control and the plunge into oblivion.

“I wish I’d been a bit less abrupt with Finn,” she said bleakly. “Oh well... I’ll have to apologize when I see him next.” She looked down the valley. Finn and Geoffrey had disappeared though she thought she could hear the distant sound of splashing. If Geoffrey was a typical Labrador, he’d probably be in the pool by now.

“It’s no wonder he’s a bit gruff, is it?” Cleo said. “I can’t see him opening up about it with anyone, somehow.”

“You don’t know,” Lucy said. “Maybe he has friends he can talk to. Or a girlfriend.”

“Well he is hot, if you’re into guys,” Cleo said. She gave Lucy side-eyes. “Isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Lucy said, not giving an inch.

“He’s also kind,” Cleo said smugly. “He left you some supplies. Come and see.” She led Lucy through the terrace doors into the barn’s interior. It felt cool and dark inside, a cathedral-high space of shadows and mystery. Cleo peered inside a bag on the worktop. “Hmm, Finn’s choices are rather more practical than mine—milk, butter, bread...” She looked up. “That was very thoughtful of him.”

“I’ll thank him profusely,” Lucy promised, feeling guilty all over again at how prickly she’d been with him. If Finn had just lost his brother, he had every right to be a bit brusque and she shouldn’t take out her own problems on him. “I thought I’d have a rest and then walk into the village later and start finding my way around,” she said. She gave Cleo an impulsive hug. “Why don’t you go and spend the rest of the day with Sam? It’s been great to see you, but you deserve some time off too. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to keep an eye on me all the time. I’ll ring you every day and maybe we can meet up again in a few days?”