by Jenny Kane
‘I aspire to be like Bert when I grow up.’
‘Good plan,’ Tina said, but quickly added, ‘providing I don’t have to be like Mabel! She’s lovely but…’
‘Her constructive bossiness really isn’t you. Fear not, I don’t see you as a grown-up Mabel.’ Sam kissed Tina on the nose and led her to the nearest bench. ‘I don’t suppose that bag has any lunch in it?’
‘How did you guess?’ She flipped open the bag that hung on her shoulder, and produced two sets of sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper. Sam took a bite of his lunch. ‘I wanted to talk to you about this afternoon’s interview. Are you still okay with us tackling it in two parts?’
‘Yep. I will meet Tom Harris, when he arrives, and take him into the office to meet Thea. We’ll do the formal part of the interview there, concentrating on his work in archaeology. Then we’ll come outside to you and head to the dig.’
‘I’ll wait at the picnic table nearest the site.’ Sam pointed across the garden. ‘Meet Tom, have a chat and learn a bit about his military background. Then we can head to Helen and the archaeology students together. Be good for him to see the place he’d be working from.’
From where they sat, Tina could just see the tops of the ranging rods and the occasional head as a student stood up from their labours. ‘Sounds good.’
‘If he’s the chap for us, we’ll stick to offering him a four-month contract.’
‘I was surprised we had so many interested people in such a short contract job.’
‘Again, normal in archaeology according to Thea and Helen.’
‘Right.’
Sam observed Tina as he munched into his egg and cress sandwich. ‘Something bothering you?’
Tina pulled a letter with a Malvern postmark from her pocket. ‘This came. I’ll admit I’ve been a bit nervous about giving it to you. It’s bound to have a date for our meeting with your parents.’
Sam took the rather crumpled letter. ‘Been in your pocket long?’
‘Since yesterday.’
‘Let’s take a look then.’ Sam ripped the top off the envelope and slipped out a single sheet of matching blue paper. Reading the short letter quickly, he passed it to Tina. ‘What day of the week is the 26th of September?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Finishing reading the note, which felt rather like a summons, Tina opened her phone to its calendar function. ‘It’s a Saturday.’
‘That’s something at least, and it’s before we have guests in here.’
Tina regarded Sam suspiciously. ‘You’re remarkably calm about this.’
‘The last time Mother suggested a date, it was for an overnight stop. This is just a day.’ Sam hugged Tina close. ‘Anyway, I told you, I want to show you off. I’m sure you’ll like my mum, and I know she’ll like you, but…’
‘Your father.’
‘Quite.’ Sam took a big bite of his sandwich. ‘Let’s hope it’s a dry day so we can eat outside.’
‘Sam, it’ll be too cold to eat outside, even if it is dry.’
‘I know.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Maybe we’d better buy some massive brollies.’
Twenty-Eight
September 22nd
Tom stepped out of his ageing Ford Fiesta and stared up at the house. Impressive didn’t cover it. Before he’d registered what he was doing, he was stroking a palm over the grey stonework.
‘Stunning isn’t it?’ A woman wearing a smart pair of trousers, a white shirt and navy jumper, with contradictory girlish pigtails, was striding towards him, her hand outstretched. ‘I’m Tina Martin. Tom Harris?’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Tom shook her hand. ‘This is a stunning building.’
‘I’d be happy to show you around afterwards.’ Tina gestured towards the main door. ‘I’d take you now, but I suspect you’d like to do the interview bit first.’
Wondering if his prospective employer was more nervous than he was, Tom admired the exquisitely carved oak doors, and replied, ‘I think that’s a good idea.’
Noting the original Victorian tiles on the floor of the corridor he was being led down, Tom tried to blank out how much was riding on him getting this job. Following the arc of Tina’s gesture, he drew his eyes from the eclectic row of paintings and maps, and walked into a freshly whitewashed room.
A desk stood in the centre, with three chairs placed around it. A second woman turned from where she’d been looking out of the window, and held out her hand in greeting.
‘Good to meet you, Mr Harris. I’m Thea Thomas. Please, do sit down.’
*
Tina was pleased with how it was going. They’d done the opening pleasantries and confirmed that this was only a short-term post, but that there was a possibility of an extension subject to sponsorship funding, although they couldn’t make any promises at this time.
‘It says on your CV that you were in the army, before taking a series of short-term jobs.’ Tina lifted the piece of paper up before her and read, ‘A newsagent’s assistant, a night shelf stacker for a supermarket, and so on. Then you retrained as an archaeologist via the Wiltshire Archaeological Trust. Can you tell us a little about your post-forces employment record?’
Tom, who’d been expecting such a question, was relieved at how calmly it had been asked. In the past, the number of small-time, low-paid jobs he’d taken had been flung at him like an accusation; this felt like a genuine enquiry. ‘After the army I wasn’t sure which direction I wanted to take workwise. While I adjusted to civilian life, I wanted a position that demanded no more of me than to be there and get the job done.’
‘A break from responsibility perhaps?’ Tina smiled.
‘Just that. I had to earn money, but didn’t want to have anyone relying on me, or for me to have to rely on anyone else.’
‘I can see the attraction in that.’ Tina gave him another smile, as Thea nudged the conversation forwards.
‘How did the archaeological training come about?’
‘Pure luck.’ Tom clasped his hands together on the desk. ‘I’ve always been fascinated by the past. When I was abroad, I saw some incredible sites. The pyramids in Egypt, semi-hidden cities in the deserts of old Persia, the remains of Roman cities in Africa. Each new treasure I found, I never wanted to move away from. They spoke to me somehow.’ Tom smiled. ‘I’m aware that sounds fanciful, but I couldn’t stop imagining the builders working without the technology we take for granted. All they had was their skill and the local natural materials. Once I got home, I started to research such places and soon realised that our distant ancestors had a greater understanding of maths and engineering than I will ever have.’
Nodding in understanding, Thea asked, ‘I imagine it was in Current Archaeology magazine that you saw the advert to work for the Wiltshire Trust?’
‘It was, although only after I’d been told about it.’ Tom ran a hand through his army-short, brown hair. ‘I was living with my former partner in Swindon about five years ago. The local library was a regular haunt for me, especially after our little boy, Dylan, was born. I used to read him Spot the Dog books until he fell asleep, then carry him to the history section and read him Leakey, Cunliffe and Aston.’
‘Classic archaeological stuff.’
‘It was the librarian who showed me the article in Current Archaeology. The Wiltshire Archaeology Trust was looking for untrained people who wanted a career in archaeology. They were basically offering something not unlike what you’re proposing here, but rather than for recovering ex-services personnel, it was for anyone who hadn’t had the benefit of a degree education.’
Tina took a sip from the nearest glass of water Thea had placed on the table before the interview began. ‘I know that Sam, Mr Philips, will be interested to hear about that, so we’ll delve more into how the Trust set up their training when we show you the excavation we have underway here. For now, can you tell us how you progressed from trainee archaeologist to one of the tutors on the scheme?’
‘Another fortunate stroke of good
timing.’ Tom relaxed back in his chair a fraction, relieved not to have been quizzed on his unsettled home life. He’d mentioned Dylan without thinking, but they hadn’t followed it up. ‘I was in the office in Swindon when my employer told me they were intending to increase the number of tutors, and that I should apply.’
‘That’s kudos to you. They wouldn’t have suggested you apply if they didn’t think you could do the job.’
‘Thank you.’ Tom dared another smile. ‘Dr Andrews made it clear that I wasn’t the only candidate, but that I had as much chance as those who had an academic background.’
‘What would you say the favourite part of your job with Wilts Archaeology was?’
‘The people. The interaction, watching folk with no training at all, often unsure of themselves but keen to learn, slowly grow in confidence – not just with the archaeology, but with each other. Many of those who come along see themselves as failures at best, or stupid at worst.’
Helen’s theory on failure echoed in the back of Tina’s mind as she said, ‘It must be rewarding to watch people blossom with your help.’
‘Very much so.’
‘The situation here is similar, but you’d have to deal with ex-military personnel – like yourself – but with a legacy of trauma hanging over them. Sometimes the issues will be mental, sometimes physical. No one coming here will be fresh from the front. We do not have the professional staff to help them at that stage of their recovery. It’s a halfway house. A place to take stock and think between therapy and going back to life as a civilian.’
‘And a much-needed facility.’ Tom tensed again. ‘I know many who would have benefitted from his place when I left the army seven years ago.’
Thea noted a few points on her pad that she wanted to discuss with Sam, before saying, ‘You were happy at Wiltshire Archaeology Trust, you said. So may I ask why you wish to leave there for a post that can’t offer you a long-term contract?’
‘My son. His mother and I split some time ago. She has just moved to Devon, and I want to be as near to Dylan as I can be.’
‘Which part of Devon, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Tina asked.
‘Tiverton. So, just fifteen miles from here.’
‘Thank you, Tom.’ Tina glanced at Thea as if to ask if she had any other questions. Receiving a negative shake of the head, Tina wrapped it up. ‘I think it’s time we introduced you to Sam and let you see the excavation. Do you have any questions before we move on?’
‘Not so far. Thank you.’ Tom hoped the women hadn’t noticed his exhalation of relief as the first interview hurdle was completed.
*
Shaun stared at the tarpaulin. It hadn’t been in the best condition anyway, but now it was a mangled mass of twisted blue plastic. Seeing it thrown to the side of the east side of the ancient church, something inside Shaun snapped.
Trying to hold up the excavation by deliberately misplacing things was bad enough, but actively damaging site property; that was too much.
Glad he’d been the first back to the site after lunch, Shaun was on his phone in seconds, advising Phil to tell the others they had an hour extra break, but that he should get to the church now.
The producer arrived at a run, his face red, his chest puffing like a pair of bellows and he stared at the mess that had once been the tarpaulin. ‘It could have blown off I suppose.’
Shaun glared at Phil in disbelief.
‘It’s possible.’ The producer scowled.
Shaun picked up the torn thick plastic sheeting. ‘Please don’t tell me you think a fox came along and unpegged this, before throwing it to one side.’
‘Okay, perhaps not.’ Phil sighed. ‘But why do this? Who could it be?’
‘The same person who “misplaced” the trowels, broke the JCB and quite possibly, stole my phone.’
‘You really think so?’
Shaun hadn’t been sure until he’d said the words out loud, but now he felt certain. ‘All of those things have slowed us down.’
‘You think someone wants to keep us here longer?’ Phil picked up a corner of the tangled tarpaulin.
‘Or someone doesn’t want us to film at Mill Grange.’
‘But why?’ Phil helped Shaun manhandle it into a folded pile. ‘And if they really wanted to stop our progress, why not do something more extreme? Why not nick all the trowels?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If we make too much of it then Lady Hammett will kick us off. We’re so near to the end of filming.’
A thought arrived in Shaun’s mind that he didn’t like. ‘Phil, wasn’t it Lady Hammett who insisted we didn’t have a security team here?’
‘Yes, she was most insistent.’ Phil paused in the act of flattening out the plastic covering, his eyebrows knotting as he realised what Shaun was suggesting. ‘You have got to be kidding. Lady Hammett would never do this.’
‘Why not? Look at the positive publicity Guron is getting while we’re here. Free publicity. Once we’ve gone it won’t be the same.’
‘But we can’t accuse her of sabotage! We have no proof! And if we did, and we’re wrong, the consequences don’t bear thinking about.’ Phil shook his head. ‘It can’t be her. It must be someone from outside the dig – although God knows who or why.’
‘Maybe.’ Shaun raked a hand through his hair. ‘But if it is her, then there might be a way I could find out.’
Twenty-Nine
September 22nd
‘A fine regiment.’
Tom picked up the mug of coffee Thea had passed to him as he acknowledged Sam’s compliment. ‘It was an honour to serve the Royal Anglians.’
‘Part of the Queen’s Division no less.’ Sam was impressed. ‘Sierra Leone? Afghan?’
‘And the former Yugoslavia for a while.’
‘Heavy going.’ Sam nodded as he carried on. ‘You resigned your commission when you were in your mid-thirties? I’m assuming it was your age that made the decision to leave for you?’
Already feeling as if he was having a chat with a fellow former squaddie rather than a potential employer, Tom grinned. ‘Ain’t that the truth. I was older than my sergeant by six years, and it was beginning to show.’
‘You didn’t fancy going up the ranks?’
‘I’m not officer material. You needed at least three silver spoons in the drawer before that lot would even look at you. Believe me, all my spoons are plastic.’
Tina glanced sideways to see how the earl’s son would react, but Sam just smiled and carried on asking about how Tom thought his army training could help here, with former, often troubled, ex-services personnel.
As Tina listened, she realised Sam had never told her what rank he’d been in the forces. She was astonished she hadn’t asked him. The Tina Martin before she’d met Sam, before Thea had first come to Mill Grange, would have wanted to know immediately.
Snapping out of her moment’s uncomfortable introspection, Tina heard Tom talk about exercise planning and the invisible confidence-boosting exercises he’d used when he was in the army, and how he’d applied them to the role he was giving up so he could be near his son.
When she’d peeked at Thea’s notes as they’d interviewed Tom inside, Tina had seen her friend scribble: “Is Mill Grange safe for children to live in?” It was a good point, and one that would need to be addressed if they offered Tom the job.
Tina turned her attention to Sam. She could tell he liked Tom. His body language, often restrained with strangers, was relaxed, and she suspected they’d chat for hours if she didn’t rein them in.
Waiting until there was a pause between questions, Tina put down her coffee cup. ‘Perhaps we should go and meet Helen?’
Sam got to his feet. ‘Quite right. It’s high time you saw the excavation you’d be training from.’
As Tom walked with Sam, following the slope of the garden downwards towards where the grass met the edge of the woods, and the section of fortlet that was being worked on, Tina hung back. She tap
ped Thea’s arm, silently communicating that she’d like her to hold back too.
Letting a distance build up between them and the men, Tina whispered, ‘What do you think?’
‘I think Sam’s already made up his mind.’
‘He doesn’t know about the lad yet.’
‘Tom said he had a child on the application form.’ Thea watched as Sam pointed out different features in the landscape.
‘We can’t not employ him because of his child. If he was a woman we’d be sued for discrimination.’ Tina frowned. ‘I’m just not sure about a young boy being safe here, and I don’t fancy being a babysitter.’
Thea sighed. ‘I feel the same, otherwise, I’d be inclined to offer him the post. We should find out more about Dylan. We could well be jumping to conclusions.’
*
Helen heard four sets of footsteps approaching, and immediately excused herself from the student she was talking to. Brushing her muddy palms against the legs of her dungarees, she looked up, and was met by the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Their brightness caught her off guard. Helen found herself turning away again to pick up a trowel she didn’t need.
She reached out a hand to shake his, but then withdrew it.
‘Helen Rodgers. Forgive me, I’m filthy.’ As soon as the word filthy left her lips Helen felt every freckle on her face light up like a beacon.
Biting the inside of her mouth, not daring to look at Thea or Tina in case their eyes were laughing at her, Helen examined the earth at her feet as Tom politely replied, ‘Believe me, a little excavation earth is not a problem. I’m delighted to meet you.’
Feeling suddenly under inspection, and convinced the shine in Tom’s eyes meant he hadn’t missed her unfortunate phrasing, Helen was relieved when Sam got on with the interview.
‘As you’ll know from the job advert and from discussions you’ve had with me, Tina and Thea, we have a potentially important site here, particularly in relation to the Roman occupation of the south-west.’ He held the geophysics plans out before him. ‘These were done for us by the Landscape Treasures team, and show how extensive this fortlet is.’
