She was surprised at the feeling of sadness that tugged at her when she had that thought. It was almost as though someone had whispered to her: “Don’t leave me...” There was a sense of autumn melancholy and longing in the warm air.

Lucy got up and took her empty plate inside, stacking it in the dishwasher. Oddly she didn’t feel unhappy or threatened at the barn. Her instinct told her that whatever or whoever was here, they meant her no harm. Rather, she sensed a kindred spirit, someone else who was lost or uncertain. Catherine? She decided she needed to find out more about Catherine Catesby.

Deciding to call Cleo and talk it through with her the next day, she slipped her shoes back on, grabbed a jumper and a rug, put some apples, bread and cheese in her backpack, pulled the door closed and set off down the path that bordered the stream. It was cool beneath the shade of the trees though the insects still buzzed in the evening sunlight. The water was low, no more than a quicksilver flash beneath the overhanging bank, for summer had been dry for several weeks now. It was humid too, the air heavy, and Lucy remembered the weather bulletin promising thunderstorms by the end of the week.

She hadn’t explored so far down the valley before. It wasn’t quiet; a colony of rooks set up a cacophony of noise in the tall trees up by the cottage, their raucous cries undercut by the sweeter tones of the woodland birds. A helicopter passed low overhead. Lucy could hear voices carrying to her from the road and the sound of Clarabelle braying in her paddock. And yet there was something peaceful and timeless about the little hidden valley. It made her wonder about the lost Tudor garden, and how many feet had passed along the path she was standing on now.

As the ground leveled out at the bottom of the hill, the stream ran into a small lake, more of a pond really given that the dry weather had left the irises and reeds around the edge stranded as the waters receded. There was a grassy patch beneath a big oak tree where Lucy spread her blanket out. She kicked off her espadrilles and let her toes sink into the cool grass. This was a perfect spot. There was even a little beach where she could see a sparkle of golden grains and rainbow colors amongst the sand. Perhaps this was where Finn had said they had found evidence of a bathing place. She waded a little way out into the lake and let the cool spring waters lap the bottom of her capris.

“Hi.” Lucy hadn’t heard Finn approach and only realized that he was there when Geoffrey splashed into the water beside her, sending a rainbow of droplets cascading through the air from his madly wagging tail. She patted him, which only led to more overexcited wagging, and walked back to the shore of the pool, then sat down on the blanket.