Digging Deeper (26 page)

Flick watched those around her and listened as a man instructed his son about transferring weight from one foot to the other and to lean down the slope. She sighed as everyone glided effortlessly past. Willow and her chickens whizzed by ignoring her, pursued by Kirsten waving the condom hat, desperate to pass it on. Flick flinched as two tiny tots whipped either side, leaning so far back they were practically sitting down.

Flick sighed. She was fit, supple and she could do this, and if she waited any longer she’d freeze to death anyway. With that thought, she pushed off.

I can do this. I can do this.

I can’t do this.

Flick gathered speed with no idea how to stop or turn. Praying no one got in her way, she leaned backward, then forward, then sideways and swished to the left. Bingo. She leaned the other way and moved right. Encouraged that she’d mastered one maneuver, she let her concentration lapse, her speed increase and suddenly the base loomed.

People yelled and scattered. Flick put her hands over her eyes, her poles dangling from her wrists and shot straight through a gap, up the nursery slope right to the top and then slid backward, squealing in terror. Finally she fell in a heap. She still had her eyes closed and didn’t dare move. She wondered how many bones she’d broken and hoped no poor sod lay flattened underneath her. Maybe the wetness she could feel was snow and not blood. Could things get any worse?

“Flick.”

Ah, yes, they could.

“Open your eyes,” Beck said.

I don’t think so.

“Is she dead?” someone asked.

With considerable reluctance, Flick opened one eye and peered up. Beck held out a gloved hand. Gloves were good. Nothing could happen through gloves. But the moment he took her hand in his, energy travelled between them, a surging shockwave that leaped from her body, sparking though her fingertips and two sets of thick gloves. He flinched and she knew he’d felt it too.

Flick allowed him to pull her to her feet. Beck began to brush the snow from her jumper and as he was about to touch her breast, stopped with his hands poised above the horse’s eyes.

Kirsten swished to a stop beside them.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine.”

How Flick hated that bloody word. She wasn’t fine. She was frozen. Her bum was soaked, her legs sticks of jelly, her heart jived in her chest and she suspected she had third degree burns on her hands.

“What are you doing here?” Kirsten asked.

“You bloody well made me come,” Flick snapped.

“She means me,” Beck said. “Since I’d come all this way, I thought I’d have a try. I saw Flick having a little difficulty on the button pull.”

Flick’s flushed face turned what she suspected was an even deeper shade of crimson. He’d seen everything. Well, that was just great.

“I’ll help Flick. You go and ski with Willow and the others,” Beck told Kirsten. Once she’d skied off he turned to Flick. “What on earth possessed you to launch yourself from the top? You know nothing about skiing, do you?”

“Yes,” Flick said in indignation.

“Is that yes meaning no?”

“I’ve watched that ski program on TV.”

Beck groaned. “Look, I’m going to help you but you have to trust me and do exactly as I say.”

“All right.”

He frowned. “I mean it. Do exactly as I say.”

He pulled her over to the button lift and he pushed the plate through Flick’s legs.

“Don’t sit down,” he said as Flick sat.

She sank to the snow, the pole flew away and sent her sprawling. Beck dragged her to one side. Three poles later she was in the correct position, moving up the hill with Beck behind shouting encouragement.

“That’s really good, Flick. Keep your feet parallel and in the groves. When you get to the top, pull the button out and toss it to one side.”

To her great surprise she didn’t fall but managed to turn and slide away along the top of the slope. Beck came shooting up beside her.

“Well done. Now you only have to get to the bottom again.”

With a heavy heart, Flick turned her skis toward the hill.

Beck pulled her back. “Hey, not so fast.”

He moved behind her and slid his skis to the outside of hers and pressed up against her. Flick felt his warm breath on her neck, his body solid and firm against hers. She went weak at the knees.

“We’re going to snowplow down. Spread your legs, keep the tips of your skis together and bend your knees. If you keep the edge of the skis pressed against the snow you can control your speed.”

He pushed off, keeping Flick pinned in front of him. He talked but she hardly listened, the feeling of being so close to him had made her head spin. She was wet, cold, scared and never wanted to see another pair of skis as long as she lived, but when they got to the bottom and he said, “Again?” she nodded as if she couldn’t wait, slithered back to the sadistic button pull and thought of all the other things she’d rather be sitting on.

It was the shortest and longest hour of Flick’s life. She was surprised how much she enjoyed her lesson, how patient he was. She loved having him hold her and part of her wished it would never end. By the time it was over, she could get from the top to the bottom without falling. Beck told her she was brilliant.

As he helped her take off her boots, she heard herself agreeing with Kirsten’s suggestion they go on a skiing holiday next year. Flick knew even if she wanted to go, she couldn’t afford it. She struggled to fasten the laces on her trainers. Her fingers were freezing. Her bum frozen. She had a huge wet patch on the back of her trousers.

It had all been worth it.

“Want a ride back?” Beck asked.

Flick looked up and gulped. Yes! “Thanks.” Her tongue felt like a wad of cotton wool in her mouth that she had to force the words around. The day had melted from a horrible nightmare into a warm and pleasant dream. She fumbled to pull off the sodden sweater and pushed it into her bag. Goose bumps covered her arms, her nipples clearly visible under the T-shirt she wore. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

“Here, wear my top if you’re cold.”

Beck tugged off his v-necked cotton sweater and Flick pulled it over her head. It smelled of Beck. She could feel the warmth of his body still clinging to the creases.

Once everyone was in cabs heading for Leeds, Flick went with Beck to the minivan.

As she settled beside him, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“What about?”

“You know what about. Everything. Henry. The kidnapping.”

Guilt gnawed at her stomach. “It sounded unbelievable.”

“I feel terrible. I sat there furious with you, staring at the curry, wanting to wring your neck and all the time you were in danger.”

“I wasn’t exactly in danger,” Flick said, feeling worse.

“Did you know the men?”

“No.”

“But you could describe them to the police.”

“Oh yes, they’re well known to the police.” Oh God, this is not good.

“So have they arrested them?”

“I doubt it.” Please shut up.

“Won’t you press charges?”

“No.” God, make him shut up.

“They didn’t…hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t you want to talk about it?” Beck asked.

“No. I really don’t.” She began to bite her nail.

“Okay. Well, would you like to go for something to eat?”

Flick was so racked with anxiety her stomach would likely reject anything she offered it, but she registered the change of direction and nodded. Beck was giving her another chance and she didn’t often get those.

By the time they got to Yeadon, Flick had dried out, cheered up and felt hungry. Beck had done most of the talking; telling her about the discoveries on the dig, and his excitement calmed her down. Everything would be all right.

When she got out of the car and walked across the road to the Jade Palace, Beck took hold of her hand. A surge of lust swept though her body and she gasped.

“You okay?” He gave her a long look.

“You made my heart jump.”

Beck squeezed her fingers. “Mine too.”

“You ought to patent yourself. Hospitals wouldn’t need defibrillator paddles. Just get you to hold the patient’s hand and her heart would bounce back to life.”

“What about male patients?”

“Well, that’s already one of my many jobs.”

Beck laughed.

Flick was desperate not to spoil things. After they’d chosen what they wanted to eat, she stayed with a safe topic and talked about the dig.

“So what’s the latest development?”

“We found the remains of an underground heating system.”

“A hypocaust?”

“Bless you.” Beck grinned. “I could hardly believe it. It’s really unusual for this area. The civilian settlement in Ilkley has always been more difficult to research because most of the building stones were re-used elsewhere, but I think we’ve found the remains of an upmarket dwelling dating back to the fourth century.”

“Wow.”

“Maybe one of the Romans stayed behind and married a local girl, or perhaps an enterprising guy copied ideas he’d seen the Romans use. We’re finding more and more Samian ware, as well as the usual greyware, plus a few coins and personal items… I’m boring you. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” His excitement fascinated her. “I think I’ve caught the archaeology bug. I’m desperate to have a go. I bet you wish you had a time machine so you could check if you were right.”

“I’m never wrong,” he said in mock indignation.

“How come?”

“Archaeologists have inbuilt defense mechanisms. If it ever looks as though we’ve made a mistake, we claim we were originally correct but the circumstances changed.”

“Is that what happened with me?” Flick asked, looking straight at him.

“I was intrigued by you the first time I saw you.”

“So was that bloody sheep.”

“The sheep’s long gone but I’m still intrigued,” Beck said in a quiet voice.

Flick wanted to touch his hair, run her fingers through it. She sat on her hands. The way her luck played, his hair would most likely fall out in chunks.

He sat up straighter and began fiddling with his chopsticks. “That first day I met you, why did you think I was from the police?”

“A joke,” Flick said. “Not a very good one.”

She wasn’t sure he believed her, but he let it go.

“What else do you do for a living apart from bring male hearts to life?”

“Lots of things only nothing as rewarding as that.” She smiled.

“How many jobs do you have?”

“Not sure.” Flick squirmed now the focus was back on her.

“Do you like any of them?”

This conversation was heading for shark-infested water.

“I like elements of all of them. The drystone walling was fun until the snake incident. How is your hand, by the way?” She lobbed the ball to his side of the table.

“Hurts like crazy. What else do you do?”

The ball came back and she swiped it across the net. “Shall I kiss it better?”

“Later.” Beck coughed and smashed the ball back to her side. “What else?”

“I drive a limo for Yorkshire Television once or twice a week. I enjoy that because there’s always the chance that I’ll pick up Johnny Depp.”

“What else?”

“Underpaid minion at a local gym. The hours are crap, though of course I live in hope of Johnny Depp popping in for a quick workout.”

“What’s all this about Johnny Depp?”

“I like Johnny Depp.”

Not anymore. Flick licked a drop of sauce from her lip.

Beck groaned. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Lick your lip. It distracts me.”

Flick ran her tongue all the way around her lips. “Can I have the last piece of prawn toast?”

“I’m not that distracted. You ate all the others.”

Flick picked it up and pushed it in his mouth. “I hope you choke,” she said, immediately wishing the words back.

Beck chewed and swallowed. “Sorry, still alive. What about Hartington Hall?”

“What about it?”

“I know you work there, too.”

“Doing all the jobs Lady C’s regular cleaning lady doesn’t like, plus occasional work such as the dinner party or granny-sitting Gertrude.”

“Maybe you’re also pretty good at taping out digs,” Beck said.

Flick helped herself to more rice. “Only pretty good?”

“It was you,” Beck said with a smile. “Thank you for doing that.”

She sighed. “The least I could do after my dog-walking disaster.”

He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry about everything, Flick. I think there’s been a lot of jumping to conclusions.”

“Did Giles really do math at Cambridge?”

Beck chuckled. “He wasn’t the only one who made two and two equal five.”

Flick nodded. “At Birmingham University the first thing they taught us was that two and two equals four. Cambridge is clearly not all it’s cracked up to be. Stef got in for a start.”

“What did you do at Birmingham?”

She grinned. “History.”

“No wonder you know so much about archaeology. Did you—?”

“Finish? Yes. I got a First and don’t ask your next question.”

“What would that be?”

“Why I don’t have a proper job.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“So what’s your relationship with Henry?”

Flick dropped her chopsticks.

“Sorry. I wasn’t suggesting…I mean…now I’m wondering how many feet I can stick in my mouth at one go,” he said.

Flick thought about teasing him but decided not to. “Henry’s been very kind to me. He’s an angel, though he pretends he’s a devil.” What was their relationship? They played word games. They flirted. He’d never touched her in an inappropriate way though Flick sensed the possibility lurking. “I think he does fancy me but he’d never act on it and I’d run a mile.”

Beck smiled. “Any more jobs?”

“Pub work. I deliver Yellow Pages once a year and then there’s the fuel station,” she mumbled.

“I drove along the ring road looking for where you work. Where exactly is it?”

“Not exactly on the ring road.” Flick helped herself to more Singapore noodles. This was not the time to tell him she was a pole dancer. Not now they were getting closer. “This is really delicious.” Take the hint, she pleaded.