by Jenny Kane
They’d come so close to the filming not happening at all thanks to misguided sabotage and a set of Anglo-Saxon tiles. And while Treasure Hunters would have taken longer and concentrated on the excavation, she knew that by including the house and its purpose in the programme, Landscape Treasures were giving them a far better marketing showcase. Tina also knew Sam would never have forgiven himself if he’d gone with the main rival to Shaun’s show.
A pat on her shoulder, and an accompanying whispered request from Tom to help him unload the trowels and tapes that Phil had brought with them as part of the sponsorship deal, sent Tina scurrying back to work.
As they reached the equipment porta-shed, where it was safe to speak without disturbing the filming, Tom asked, ‘What do you think? Going well?’
‘Very, by the looks of it. Now it’s been confirmed by the geophysics that Thea was right, and the fortlet is a little bigger than expected, they’re going full throttle to get more excavation time filmed. I’m surprised they haven’t asked you to get digging on screen yet.’
Tom scooped up a dozen trowels. ‘I’ll dig as soon as they like, but I’d rather leave being on telly to the experts. Anyway, keeping the equipment clean and the finds drawn, photographed and plotted is a full-time job.’
‘Tell me about it. I thought I’d get to watch and maybe carry over the odd tray of tea. How wrong I was!’ Tina stacked reels of tape measures into her arms. ‘I can’t imagine you being able to avoid the cameras permanently though, Tom.’
He sighed. ‘Sam’s already told me they want to do a bit with me talking about how archaeology can be good therapy.’
Tina followed Tom towards the stables. ‘But you’d rather not.’
‘The thing is, I’m not sure it would do you guys any favours to have me on screen. Lots of people watch Landscape Treasures, and there are people in my past – well, women – who might take it upon themselves to come here and give me a piece of their minds once they knew where I worked.’
‘Oh.’ Feeling out of her depth, Tina concentrated on placing the measures in the set of drawers that had only been delivered the day before.
Tom gave a humourless laugh. ‘That sums it up nicely. The thing is, after I left the army, before I found archaeology, I got a bit… lost. I wasn’t a gentleman. Moved from woman to woman, leaving broken promises behind me like a trail of disaster. I hate who I was. I don’t want anything I did in the past to reflect on Mill Grange now.’
*
Helen hung back from the stables. She’d dashed over to fetch a handful of finds trays, but on hearing Tom’s voice had hung back. Now, running towards the bathroom, so she had a genuine excuse for taking longer than she should away from the site, Helen wished she hadn’t overheard. Tom wasn’t the man for her. She was foolish to have even considered it. She was lonely and Tom was the first single bloke she’d met with similar interests in years. That was it.
The last thing she needed was to become one in the long line of broken hearts on Tom’s tally.
*
Tina found Sam watching Shaun talking into the camera about how out of place many of the Roman soldiers must have felt in the middle of Exmoor, especially in the midst of a northern winter when they would be missing the local festivals at home. It was only the memory of Tom’s concerned face that caused her to break away from listening to the recording to tug at Sam’s arm so he knew she wanted to talk.
‘Are you alright?’ Sam sat next to Tina on the bench outside the kitchen.
‘I’m loving this. It’s so interesting watching the site being uncovered. Every time I go up there it seems bigger.’
‘Thea’s got one more test pit to dig, then they’ll concentre on the two trenches and two other pits already open.’ Sam gave Tina a look. ‘That isn’t what you wanted to talk about, is it?’
‘Have you been inside for your lunch today?’
Sam shuffled on the seat. ‘No. There’s always someone in there when I go to fetch my food.’
‘That’s what I thought. But you’ve been doing so well, shame to stop now. Did you go in yesterday? I was so busy I didn’t get the chance to ask.’
‘Not until about four.’
‘That’s not good, Sam. You need to eat.’ Not giving him the chance to respond, Tina got up and peered into the kitchen. ‘There’s only Mabel in there at the moment. Go now before everyone else swarms in.’
‘But…’
‘She’s cooked hot sausage sandwiches if that helps tempt you.’
‘I thought I could smell something delicious.’ Sam glanced at the kitchen door, but he didn’t move.
‘Sam love, sooner or later you are going to have witnesses to you being inside. That’s sort of the point. And if you think for one second Mabel would judge you for being fearful, then you’re wrong.’
‘I know.’ Sam swallowed, gripping Tina’s hand. ‘You must think me a coward.’
‘I think no such thing,’ said Tina, standing up, ‘but I know that Phil wants to film you talking to Shaun about your plans for this place, and you’ll do it much better on a full stomach. For one thing, the sound guy won’t be thrilled if he picks up the sound of your belly growling with hunger on the microphone.’
Sam licked his lips. ‘Are the sandwiches ready on the edge of the table?’
‘Yes.’
He got up. Tina could see there was a shake to his legs, but nothing like as bad as she’d seen in him before.
‘Would you like me to come in as well?’
‘Stay here. Have a cuddle waiting.’ Sam took a deep breath then exhaled slowly through gritted teeth, before walking at high speed towards the back door. Without pausing he dashed inside, making Mabel jump as he grabbed his prize and cannoned outside again.
‘Bloody hell, that was fast!’ Tina engulfed him in the promised hug as Sam’s pulse rate eased back to its normal pace.
‘I think I scared Mabel.’
‘I bet you did. Whirling dervishes move slower.’
‘The speed was accelerated by the desire to get a sausage sarnie while it was hot.’
‘For that I can’t blame you. I think I’ll get one while reassuring Mabel that you haven’t purchased jet-powered boots.’ She was halfway to the kitchen, when Tina said, ‘Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you about Tom.’
*
Taking advantage of a few minutes without having the camera trained on them, Shaun smiled at Thea as they scraped back the topsoil on the test square they’d opened over what the survey suggested was the far reach of the fortlet’s left side.
‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘Very much.’ Thea brushed the sticky clay soil from her hands. ‘Ever since we found this place, I’ve been dying to get properly stuck in. It was unbelievably frustrating not being able to crack on once the topsoil was taken off.’
‘Sorry it took so long to get here. Honestly, I could have swung for that tile expert when he arrived. Apparently, he hadn’t understood the urgency of the request, and had made a jaunt out of his trip south, with a bed and breakfast stop on the way.’
Tapping the tip of her trowel against a stone protruding from the soil, Thea worked more carefully, unsure yet if it was just a random stone, or part of the wall. ‘Actually, I think it’s worked out for the best. Keeping it in the Mill Grange family, making it a condensed and concentrated dig, will make great TV. It also means we don’t have so many people here to worry about feeding and so on.’ She laughed. ‘Bert’s already been out to buy extra toilet roll!’
‘Seriously?’ Shaun swept up the loose soil by his knees, and tapped it into their shared bucket. ‘Are you ready to be filmed later? We could practise the script as we dig if you like.’
Thea screwed up her face. ‘I’m not sure it’s for me, being on telly. It’s like I’m someone else when I stand there. I can hear my voice, but it’s as if I’m listening to myself as a third person. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfectly. That’s how I feel when I’m working. It’s a go
od thing. Stops you believing you’re special. Makes it more professional, as you’re critiquing what you’re saying with another part of yourself as you speak.’
‘Suppose that makes sense.’ Thea’s trowel made a metallic scraping sound, as it hit something beneath the soil’s surface. They exchanged glances as, hardly daring to breathe, they lifted a little more clay.
Seconds later Shaun laid a hand on Thea’s. ‘Stop.’
‘Stop? But we’ve found it, the side of a stone wall.’
‘I know, and we need to get Phil over here so he can arrange the filming of the uncovering process.’
‘How frustrating! We’re so close.’ Thea pulled a crumpled-up copy of the survey results from one of her combat trousers pockets. ‘This matches the geophysics. It’s the left outer wall!’
Shaun got to his feet and waved for Phil to come over, ‘I know. And in an hour you’ll be uncovering the wall under the watchful eye of the camera.’
‘An hour?’
‘We’ll need lighting, sound, test shots and our make-up and hair redone.’
‘You have got to be joking about that last bit. We had ourselves all beautified this morning.’
‘And it’ll happen again.’
‘But an hour’s forever.’
Shaun kissed Thea on the nose. ‘Welcome to the wonderful world of television.’
Forty-Nine
October 3rd
‘Hunting for a real Christmas tree was not how I imagined spending my first day with Dylan in months,’ Tom muttered as he steered Helen’s borrowed Land Rover around the bends that led away from Mill Grange.
He’d been surprised when she’d offered him the key, but as she’d said, even if he did find a tree, he’d never fit it in a Ford Fiesta. Tom’s eyes strayed to the list of local Christmas tree farms on the passenger seat that Bert had given him. ‘You’ve got to hand it to that old guy. He’s a fount of local knowledge.’
As Tom drove on, winching as he crashed the gears of the unfamiliar vehicle, glad Helen wasn’t there to witness his poor driving, he felt his nerves mounting. It had been almost six months since he’d seen his son. Sue had moved the poor kid around from place to place, playschool to playschool, following boyfriend after boyfriend. He winced to think that he’d once been one of them. And Sue was so easy to lead a merry dance. At least she had been. Now Dylan had reached school age, however, something in her had finally clicked. She had decided to stay still while he was educated, so he could have a better life than his parents. At least – that’s what Sue was saying for now.
‘He’ll have grown. He might not even know who I am.’ Nausea rose in Tom’s stomach. ‘God knows what his mum has told him about me.’
Braking to let some suicidal pheasants cross the road, Tom caught his breath. ‘Just calm down! You’re going to see your son. You’re going to see if he likes his school and hear about his friends. Then you’re going to take him on a forestry adventure.’
*
Tina looked out of her attic room window at the mini camp site that had gathered around Sam’s tent. It had felt good last night with the television crew bedding down around them. Everyone had been wrapped in thermals, happily clutching thermos flasks of hot chocolate and hot water bottles. Unlike when Woody, Ann and Dave had come, rather than feeling invaded, Tina was enjoying a real sense of camaraderie.
‘I just hope that feeling stays.’ She could see the heads of people bobbing up and down in the distance as they bent to dig, or wandered around fetching, carrying or filming. It had been so busy since the filming had started that Tina’d hardly had time to think about the first guests arriving. There could be no putting off those thoughts now, however. Six forces veterans were due from four o’clock the day after tomorrow.
Walking into the final attic room, opening the doors that led on into the roof space, Tina shuddered as the scent of neglect hit her. Dust flew in the air alongside a city’s worth of cobwebs.
Drawing on the gardening gloves she kept in her trouser pockets, Tina stepped through the narrow doorway. ‘Of all the jobs I had planned for today, I did not imagine I’d be hunting for potentially non-existent Christmas decorations.’
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, grateful for the bare bulb that cast a subdued glow over the dozens of boxes, sacks and old suitcases, Tina opened box after box, swallowing down the idea that literally anything could be hidden up here. She was absolutely not going to find a dead body.
When Phil had explained why he wanted the tree, Tina had been swept up in the romanticism of the scenario. As the Mill Grange episode was to be set at Christmas, Phil wanted a tree in the drawing room, preferably next to a roaring fire, with Shaun seated next to it, talking about the house and Sam’s plans. It sounded perfect. Tina knew the house would look amazing swathed in Christmas decorations. She just hadn’t considered how much extra work that would create today, when she should have been giving the place a final clean and helping Mabel with the kitchen supplies and pre-guest cooking.
Tina had searched through just over half of the contents of the attic when she came across an old tea chest with the word ‘Christmas’ written across the side. After a few determined tugs, the lid came off, and Tina was greeted with a mountain of tinsel, fairy lights, and baubles.
Mildly spooked by the sudden quiet after the loud creak of the lid’s removal, Tina decided to leave everything where it was until Tom had the tree.
‘If he can find a tree in October!’
*
Hunkering down in the trench to the far right of the excavation, Helen wiped some clay off a shard of pottery. It was one of three large-ish pieces she’d found in the last hour. Two of them, she suspected, came from the same vessel: a large cooking pot.
Placing the finds in the tray, ready to be recorded, cleaned, photographed, measured and drawn, Helen listened to the therapeutic sound of Thea and Shaun scraping back soil in the test pit off to her left.
It had been a long time since she’d been so relaxed in her work. The cameras were not yet rolling, and they had a few precious minutes to simply get on with the excavation. It wouldn’t last. As soon as Phil had decided what he wanted filming that day, the chaotic yet fascinating atmosphere of working an excavation while under a spotlight would return.
Shuffling back on her knees, Helen set to dragging the edge of her trowel over the earth. Tomorrow everything would change again. The Landscape Treasures team would finish work and leave, and it would be all hands on deck to get ready for the first guests the day after.
Mill Grange would be a different place with a procession of temporary residents passing through week by week. Did she want to stay and be a part of it? Thea’s job offer had played around Helen’s mind almost non-stop since she’d suggested it.
Torn between staying at Mill Grange, with its family atmosphere and fascinating work, and giving up the security of the decent salary she’d got used to, Helen felt trapped between desire and common sense. A situation that extended to Tom. She had no idea why she kept thinking about him, but there could be no getting away from the fact that she did.
Shame he’s a self-confessed nightmare when it comes to women.
Hoping he was taking care of her Land Rover, Helen forced herself to concentrate, as another shard of Roman cookware peeped through the soil.
*
The house wasn’t as he’d imagined. Although he hadn’t been invited across the threshold, he could see that the hallway of the two-bedroom terrace Sue lived in with Dylan was uncluttered. The carpet showed signs of being recently hoovered, and Dylan’s toys were neatly stored in plastic boxes, rather than thrown everywhere. Another indication that Sue had turned over a new leaf.
Dylan sat in his car seat, giggling as Tom told him a story about a snake who wanted to learn to swim, but didn’t know where to put his armbands.
Elated at having his boy by his side, and full of relief that the lad hadn’t hidden behind his mother’s legs, shy at the arrival of a relative strang
er, Tom finished the story and told him what they were going to do.
Dylan’s blue eyes twinkled in pleasure. ‘We’re going to find a Christmas tree? A real one?’
‘A real one.’ Tom’s heart contracted as he considered the feeble plastic tree he and Sue had used during their only Christmas together. It had been tacky and white and already on its last legs when they got it from a local charity shop.
‘Why, Dad? We haven’t done Halloween yet. My teacher at school, Mrs Harley, she says we’ll be doing Halloween after half-term. We’re doing the Romans now. I like them.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, because it’s because of the Romans that we’re getting a tree.’
As he drove, stoically keeping below the speed limit as he carried his precious load back into Somerset, Tom told his son about his new job, Mill Grange, and how some television people wanted to film a Christmas scene inside the house.
‘Wow! I can’t wait to tell my friends that my dad is going to be on TV. Can I see it? Can I watch the show? When’s it on? Do you think Mum will let me?’
Lost in an avalanche of questions, Tom couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’m not sure they’ll want to film me, Dylan.’ His stomach twisted as he thought of the consequences of being filmed, but then he saw the eager look on his son’s face.
‘You’d be good on telly, Dad. Mum says you’re good at drama.’
Dylan’s disappointed tone made his mind up for him. He’d tell Sam he’d do the interview about his job at Mill Grange after all. So what if his past came back to haunt him? His son wanted to see his dad on television, so that was that. Tom decided not to dwell on Sue’s comment on him and his flair for drama.
As they turned into the first Christmas tree farm on Bert’s list, Dylan leant forward in excitement. Row after row of pines, all different types and sizes, graduating from the most recently planted, backwards to the older, bigger trees, took his breath away. ‘Can I choose it, Dad?’
