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‘I think we said five days’ work and then a date, actually,’ Duncan replied.

‘Let’s just see if you can manage five days first,’ she said.

His primary role that afternoon was sorting out rubbish – taking the bags she had already filled outside so that she didn’t have to waste time walking up and down the hallways. Not to mention using the hoover on some of the more densely cobwebbed corners and bookshelves that Bex hadn’t yet started on for fear of what might crawl out from them.

Yet despite the grimness of the work, they laughed and joked, talking about inconsequential matters, such as London traffic and the fact that sheep were allowed to hog the road up here. When he’d left, after they’d spent an hour sorting together, then eaten lunch, Bex was surprised by how keenly she felt his absence. And when the next day, Thursday, rolled around, she found herself glancing at the clock, waiting for the moment Duncan would stride through the study doors, holding coffee in his hands. Annoyingly, it didn’t happen.

Instead, at 1p.m. there was a timid knock on the door and a young man Bex recognised from behind the bar at the White Hart appeared.

‘Hi, Bex, right? Duncan asked me to give you these,’ he said, lifting his hands to show the coffee and a brown paper bag he was holding. ‘And to say sorry. He got stuck doing work.’

‘Roddy, isn’t it?’ she said. He nodded. ‘Are you going to see Duncan now?’

‘Nah, he’s had to go off to fix some fences on the other side of the loch. I need to get to the pub. I had to nip out on my shift. Duncan can be pretty forceful when he wants something doing and I guess he didn’t want you to go hungry.’

There was no denying Bex was hungry, but while she was grateful for the food, she was surprised how saddened she was not to be seeing Duncan again.

‘Thanks, Roddy, I appreciate it,’ she said, taking the food and drink from him, yet as he turned to leave, she spoke again. ‘Roddy, I’m guessing if Duncan messaged you to do this, then you’ve got his phone number, right?’

‘Aye, do you want it?’

Bex felt the smile rise on her cheeks.

‘Yes please. That would be great.’

* * *

Now that she’d cleared a little more space, Bex sat in the study to eat her lunch and composed her message.

Five working days. At this rate, that should be about a month and a half until you take me for a drink.

After hitting send on the message, she tucked into her sandwich and watched as the coloured ticks appeared beneath her text. He had read it then.

It’s a date. Not a drink. And I’m just trying to build up the suspense.

She laughed before taking her time to figure out how to respond.

It’s okay, you can admit it. All the heavy lifting of the paper was too much for you.

Oh, you have no idea how good I am at heavy lifting. But I can show you if you’d like.

Bex cursed herself. What was she doing? It was the most blatant flirting possible, and she had promised both herself and Lorna that she would do nothing of the sort. But it was just a bit of texting, that was all. A bit of fun, and it wasn’t like it was going to go anywhere. Which was exactly what she said on the phone to the girls that night.

‘He’s in the rebound zone,’ she said. ‘A hundred per cent no go.’

She had merely mentioned how Duncan had helped her the day before, and Daisy and Claire had started squealing like teenagers. ‘And clearly unreliable, given that he’s only actually helped me once this week.’

‘But he had someone bring you your lunch. That’s so cute,’ Daisy replied.

‘Any chance we can get a photo?’ Claire said. ‘Or at least a surname so I can Facebook stalk him to see what he looks like.’

‘I don’t think Duncan’s the type of person who would even know what a social media profile is,’ Bex said. Only then did she realise she’d never seen him with a phone in his hands or even poking out of his pocket. He obviously had one, because they were messaging, but something told her he was the type of guy who had a phone for necessity – or flirting – rather than all the apps and other tools available on it.

‘What are you going to do for the rest of the week?’ Daisy asked, interrupting Bex’s stream of thought.

‘Work,’ Bex replied. ‘There’s so much here to sort, there’s not much time for anything else. Maybe next week I might actually be able to start looking at the accounts.’ Daisy’s throat cleared, but before she could get a word in, Bex continued. ‘And don’t you dare talk to me about working too much when you have that café of yours open every hour of the day. I’m just going to do a bit, that’s all.’

There was a slight pause, during which Bex was sure she heard a huff rattle down the line, but she didn’t respond.