‘Stuff?’ said Adam vaguely, walking into the main reception room after her.
‘You know. Sex toys and equipment and all sorts. Fascinating. I’ll show you.’
‘Oh, you needn’t bother,’ he said, suddenly aware of how tired he was. ‘Look, what are you doing here? Did Seb and Kasia invite you to housesit?’
‘God, no. They wouldn’t be so stupid. They know that they’d never get me out, once I was in.’
‘Julia, please tell me you didn’t break and enter.’
‘Of course I didn’t. I kept back a set of keys.’
‘That doesn’t make it legal.’
‘It’s not right that this house is theirs,’ she said, eyes narrowing as she sat down on a cream leather sofa, beside Adam. ‘It’s not right that they’ve filled it with all this awful furniture. It looks like some stupid soap opera set now. I want all my dark wood back, my antiques, my beautiful ormolu clock and my Victorian escritoire.’
‘Julia,’ he said gently, ‘you don’t own this house any more.’
‘Morally I do.’
‘No,’ he said, more firmly. ‘Morally you don’t.’
‘I’m not leaving,’ she said. ‘Never. This is the seat of the Shields. They’ll have to kill me and carry my body out in a coffin.’
‘Julia, for heaven’s sake!’
‘I mean it. Don’t try and talk me out of it. I won’t listen. Anyway,’ she said, turning to him, ‘why are you here?’
‘I saw the light.’
‘Marvellous! But I thought you vicars all saw the light long ago. Sorry. I shouldn’t tease you, even if you are so beautifully teasable. So you were out for a walk in the dead of night, were you?’
‘Actually,’ he confessed, ‘I was looking for you.’
The way her face brightened at his words was both wonderful and mystifying to Adam.
‘You were? Darling, I know you’ve been confused but now, with Evie gone –’
‘I had a dream. I think you can explain it to me.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘Tribulation Smith killed John Calderwood and then committed suicide. Am I right?’
Julia nodded.
‘Just my luck,’ she drawled. ‘Dream lover comes to me in the middle of the night and wants to talk about 17th centu
ry history.’
‘Yes. It’s history,’ he said fiercely. ‘But why am I dreaming about it? Why is it happening to me? And so vividly. Every detail … And the girl is Evie. And Smith – well, Smith is apparently me. Why is it happening, Julia?’
‘How should I know? That book of Lydford’s. Vivid imagination.’ She shrugged, but her eyes were guarded.
‘Where is the book of Lydford’s? I want to read it to the end.’
‘You can’t. He never finished it.’
‘I still want to read it.’