“Are you at the cottage?” Cleo had muted the music now. “How was the journey? How are you feeling?” There was a thud that Lucy identified as the sound of a pile of books falling. She could visualize her sister in her flat above the bookshop she ran in the small market town of Highworth, a few miles away. Cleo had wanted Lucy to stay with her when she came out of hospital, but there was no room. Books, stray animals, Cleo’s artwork and her girlfriend, Sam, filled all her living space.

“I’m fine,” Lucy lied. “And yes, I’m at Gunpowder Cottage, but Goldilocks is already here.”

“What?” Cleo’s fairy tales were more contemporary than hers. “Who?”

“Finn MacIntyre,” Lucy said. “He says he’s the gardener. He’s Scottish. Abrupt. Apparently, he’s staying here?”

“Oh!” Cleo sounded suddenly excited. “Finn! Yes, of course. I met him a few weeks ago. He’s the garden historian who’s leading the archaeological excavation on the site, but I thought he was staying in the barn conversion, not in the house.”

Lucy tried mentally to sort out these various pieces of information, but her brain felt too foggy and slow. The only thing that really mattered to her at this juncture was where she could find a bed and how quickly she could fall into it. Her entire body ached and all she wanted was to curl up and sleep. Detailed questions could wait.

“Is there a dog?” Cleo, her mind as butterfly light as ever, was going down a path of her own. “A Labrador called Geoffrey?”

“He’s right here,” Lucy said, as Geoffrey wandered back to her and sat down with a heavy sigh right on her foot.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Cleo said. “You’ll love having a dog around, Lucy. You always said you wished you could have one.”

“Yes.” Lucy struggled slightly. “Geoffrey is lovely, but, Cleo, this wasn’t what we agreed on. I thought the cottage was empty. If this Finn person is here, I can’t stay.”

“Like I said, Finn and Geoffrey are living in the barn,” Cleo said. “Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”

“There’s no mistake,” Lucy said. “A seminaked man opened the door of Gunpowder Cottage to me. He is clearly in residence. As is his dog, lovely or otherwise.”

She turned to see that Finn had reappeared, fully clothed in a crumpled white shirt, jeans and boots. Geoffrey was greeting him as though he’d been away for months.

“Is that Cleo?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lucy said. “She’s trying to vouch for you but she’s not very articulate.” She ignored Cleo’s shriek of protest. “The only thing she’s said so far that makes sense is that you’re supposed to be staying in the barn conversion, not in the cottage.”

Finn’s mouth turned down at the corners and he looked as grumpy and intimidating as when he had first opened the door. “Yeah,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked at Geoffrey, and sighed. “She’s right, we should be at the barn. Look—” He made a slight conciliatory gesture. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll explain?”