“Sorry,” she said, pulling herself together. “I heard a sound that startled me—it must have been a badger or something. I didn’t know I’d shouted out.”

Finn released her. “No worries,” he said, “as long as you’re all right.” He looked at Geoffrey. “Geoff thought there was something wrong too. He raced back down the path to find you as though his tail was on fire.”

Lucy wondered whether Geoff, with his supernatural sensitivities, had seen the same thing that she had. He was looking at her with his limpid dark eyes, almost as though he knew. And Finn, she thought, was looking decidedly shifty, as though he thought he might have overreacted and was wondering if she had noticed. Well, she wouldn’t read anything into it, nice as it had been to hug him.

“I appreciate the concern,” she said lightly. “I’ve had a really nice evening, but I’ll leave the two of you to it now.” She reached up to kiss Finn’s cheek. “Thank you, Finn.”

He smiled. The combination of the smile and the scent of fresh air and cologne on his skin made her feel slightly dizzy all over again but for a completely different reason.

“You’re welcome.” He looked at her. “I don’t suppose you have a torch?”

“I have one on my phone,” Lucy said, with dignity. “I’m not a complete townie.”

“Fair enough.” Finn was laughing at her, and for a moment she wanted to confide in him, about the dreams, about the vision of the fire, to ask his advice and share how she was feeling. Then her natural reticence pulled her back.

She snapped on the torch. “Good night,” she said.

The light from the beam was small but very bright and illuminated each step she took. She didn’t look back and she didn’t look around, concentrating on getting back to the barn and refusing for the time being to think about the snow, and the fire down by the lake and the summerhouse burning. If she had hallucinated it, imagined the entire thing, then she really did need medical help. Except that there was definitely a strong smell of smoke about her clothes and in her hair, and she was certain that the scene had been as real in that moment as the ripple of the stream was now in the quiet moonlight.

She reached the edge of the terrace and the patio light came on, flooding the valley in a white glare. A cat, surely the same one Lucy had seen on the first night but not since, slid around the corner of the building with a flick of its tail.

Lucy hesitated at the door, trying to gauge the atmosphere, instinctively waiting to see if she sensed any malevolence in the air, but all was still. In fact there was a feeling of serenity that wrapped about her and made her smile. It was weird but at least it was nice-weird for a change. She turned the key and went inside, calling Cleo’s number as she did, as though her sister’s presence on the other end of the phone was some sort of magic charm to ward off any ghosts lurking inside.