“It should be easy to find out if your hunch is true.” Cleo reached for her phone and started to tap the screen. There was a moment whilst the clatter and chat of conversation moved on around them, but to Lucy it felt as though the world was oddly quiet. Then her sister looked up. “Robert Catesby was married to a woman called Catherine Leigh,” Cleo said. “They had two children called William and Robert. Both William and Catherine died in the early seventeenth century, as did Robert Catesby’s father. It’s thought that perhaps the grief from so many losses drove Robert to embrace a more radical religious faith, leading eventually to the Gunpowder Plot.”

“Poor Robert,” Lucy said. “How horribly sad.” She shook her head. “Wow, that’s...sort of unreal. And sort of comforting in a way,” she added, surprised to discover she felt like that. “I mean, it’s reassuring to discover that I haven’t imagined the whole thing.”

Cleo had continued reading but now she put her phone gently back on the table. “Does it make a difference to how you feel, though?” she asked. “I mean, what will you do now?”

Lucy was silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “A part of me wants to know more about why Catherine seems to be bound in some way to Gunpowder Barn—and to me. But it’s still weird, isn’t it? I mean I don’t want to experience astral projection, or whatever it was you mentioned. That stuff is deeply peculiar and it’s not really my scene.”

“Why not sleep on it,” Cleo suggested. She smiled. “Assuming that Catherine doesn’t interrupt your dreams, of course. And in the meantime we could find out more about her.” She checked her watch. “I must get back to the accounts but you take as long as you like.” She stood up, stacking the crockery on a tray to take back into the café. “You’re welcome to spend the afternoon in the shop with me, or look around the town. Or you could go over to visit Chastleton House. That was Robert Catesby’s house up near Stow-on-the-Wold. You might learn more there about Catherine. I’ll lend you the Mini if you’d like to go.”

“Would you?” It was such a beautiful day that the idea of driving out into the countryside appealed to Lucy. “That’s very kind.”

“No problem.” Cleo rummaged in her bag, took out the keys and tossed them to her sister. “It’s parked in the alley behind the shop. Sam and I will see you later for dinner—have a good time!”

Lucy ordered a coffee and sat for a little while longer, thinking about everything. The idea of visiting Chastleton had taken root in her mind now and she felt quite excited about it. She also knew that she didn’t want to read any more about Catherine before she went, but preferred simply to go to the house and see what she might find. It was the reverse of what she had expected to feel when she set out to talk to Cleo that morning. Instead of running away from the ghosts of the past she felt a sense of urgency to embrace the story and find out what had happened to Catherine and how that impacted the present. And as she sat there, watching the shoppers mingling on the pavements she was certain that for a second she caught sight of the figure of Catherine herself, in the red gown she had been wearing in the orchard, with the sun on her hair, beckoning her on.