Rocco had no idea what the contraption was for.
‘It was used to wring out wet clothes after they’d been washed, before they were hung on the line to dry,’ she said. ‘People rolled them between the two rollers to squeeze the water out.’
‘It looks lethal. You wouldn’t want to get your fingers caught in that!’
‘I believe you own one of these,’ she told him.
‘I do?’
‘I think it was put in the cellars when the outbuildings were converted into the craft centre,’ she said, and Rocco made a mental note to take a look when he got the chance, wondering what else might be down there.
It was now five thirty and the museum was about to close, so they returned to the car.
‘Hungry?’ he asked.
‘Starving.’
‘So am I.’
‘Fish and chips?’ she suggested.
Rocco thought he could do better than that, but he’d have to be careful how he went about it. She wasn’t going to take kindly to him paying for her meal. ‘I could eat some fish. We’ve had a busy day. Thanks for showing me your island. I’ve enjoyed it.’
‘That was only a teeny tiny part.’
With fake surprise, Rocco said, ‘There’smore?’
‘Of course, there’s—’ she began hotly, subsiding when she realised he was teasing. ‘I really do have to get some work done tomorrow,’ she said. ‘This is peak tourist season, and—’
‘I understand. There’s no need to explain. I’m sure I can find my way around by myself.’
‘I’m sure you can.’
‘It won’t be as much fun.’
‘I doubt it will.’ She sighed. ‘OK, how about Monday?’
‘Monday is fine.’ He hid the smile creeping across his face.
‘When are you going back to London?’
‘I’m not sure.’ It depended on how long he could get away with this impromptu holiday. He was aware that work would be building up, and there was only a certain amount he could do while away from the office, but goddamn it, he’d put his heart and soul into the business since his dad died, so surely he was entitled to some time off? His battery was in sore need of recharging, and the most telling thing was that he hadn’t thought about work at all today. Not once. That had to be healthy, right? Heneededthis holiday. He’d felt more relaxed today than he’d felt in months.
‘What will you do with yourself tomorrow?’ she asked, her head still resting on the back of her seat.
He glanced at her to find her gazing at him. ‘I suppose I could try to get some work done.’
‘Are you able to work remotely?’
‘I am, but not for long. Beverly isn’t keen, and many of our clients prefer face-to-face meetings.’ That was simplifying things considerably, but he didn’t want to go into the details of the business. He didn’t want to think about it at all, right now.Sod it, he was on holiday. He wasn’t going to work while he was here. He was going to kick back, relax and enjoy himself. Preferably with Giselle.
‘On second thoughts,’ he said, ‘I’ll get out and about tomorrow. Any recommendations?’
‘Plenty, but nearly all of them involve some kind of outdoor activity. If you don’t want to venture too far from Duncoorie, you could go out on a boat. Mack – you met him last night in the pub; the guy who looks like a Viking? – he does whale- and dolphin-watching excursions.’
‘That sounds perfect. Are you sure you don’t want to come?’
She looked rueful. ‘I’d better not,’ she replied, then lapsed into silence.
