Chapter 8: Death to Fish
Cyril’s MG approached a sharp curve, and he shifted gears for better control on the narrow road. “Isn’t this wonderful, love? You, me, and, of course, Mr. Wilson. All on holiday together.”
“On honeymoon,” she corrected, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her head staring ahead at the roadway, barely noticing the beauty of the island on the sunniest day of their trip.
“Right. Our honeymoon.”
Silence.
“I’m looking forward to traipsing around the castle. They say from Corrins Hill, on a good day, you can see a bit of Scotland and even Ireland. This is a good day, right?” He waved his hand, indicating the gorgeous shades of green in a field, the well-tended land unmistakably marked for different kinds of crops.
“If you say so.”
“Damn it, Caroline! What t
