Ah. Smugglers’ Top. ‘This is an old smuggling route?’
‘That’s the story. I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but why else would anyone go to the trouble of opening up this cavern? It’s big enough to land any amount of contraband, and it would be pretty difficult for the excise to lie in wait and capture you here.’
‘What do you do with it once you’ve got it here, though?’ Caro looked around the cavern, half expecting to find a long-abandoned crate of brandy in one of the corners.
‘I suppose you could bring it down onto the beach when you know it’s safe. Or take it along the coast by sea.’ Drew shrugged. ‘It’s just an old story.’
‘And how did you know that the passage hadn’t been filled in, when they renovated the house?’
‘I gave Stella a call, at the letting agents. She told me that it was still okay to land here, and that they’d just put a lock on the cellar door so that no one could get through into the house.’ He grinned. ‘I think she must have mentioned it when she showed you around.’
The perils of a small village. And not listening to everything that the letting agent had had to say. Caro had switched off when Stella had launched into yet another story about the history around here.
‘And so you decided to do it the traditional way. In a wooden boat.’ Phoenix clearly approved of the craft as she was pawing at the side of it, wanting to get back in.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Drew raised his eyebrows.
‘Nothing, I suppose. Only a motor would have been easier. Along with something to help you steer.’
‘You steer with your oar strokes. And in a small boat like this, an outboard motor doesn’t let you feel way the tide’s running.’
Of course. How come she didn’t know that?
It was because they were so different. Caro worked with absolutes, data and programming, robots that would react according to a set range of values. Drew relied on his senses to deal with the unpredictable behaviour of the world around him. How two people with such different approaches could understand each other so well was one of those imponderable questions that had a habit of keeping Caro awake at night.
‘You can feel it. I’d be over the side as soon as a wave hit me.’ She grinned up at him.
‘Nah. You’d invent something and fly over the tops of the waves.’
‘Probably. You want to come upstairs for some rum and hard tack?’
He chuckled. ‘You got me hard tack? How did you know that was my favourite?’
CHAPTER SIX
THEY’D WORKED FOR a full five hours, trading ideas over a steady stream of snacks from the kitchen. Drew had enjoyed himself, and when the time came for him to row the boat back to Dolphin Cove, he felt his body thrumming with strength. His leg still hurt a little, but he was nine tenths alive now, instead of feeling half-dead.
Phoenix tugged at her lead when she saw the boat, eager to resume her position at the prow. Most dogs liked the water but, much to his grandfather’s delight, Phoenix was turning into a real sailor.
‘Will you be all right?’ Caro stared out at the sea, as if it really did conceal monsters.
‘Yeah, we’ll be fine.’ She didn’t seem particularly reassured, and Drew tried again. ‘Think of it this way. I’ve been messing around in boats all my life, and so far it’s proved less injurious to my health than driving.’
Drew smiled. He could practically see the cogs turning in her head, weighing up probabilities and risk. Then Caro shook her head, as if the equation was too complex for her.
‘I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve never messed about in boats, so I don’t have the data.’
An idea sprang into Drew’s head. Probably not a good one, but it was enticing, like a siren’s call, and he couldn’t resist it.
‘Would you like to come out for a trip on my dad’s boat? We could go one weekend.’
She was turning the idea over in her head. Work or a boat trip. Drew knew how
strongly work pulled at her, but Caro was interested in everything, and a new experience was difficult for her to resist as well.
‘Can you swim?’
‘Yes, I’m a good swimmer...when I’m in the swimming pool, that is. Why, were you thinking of pushing me overboard?’