Digging Deeper (36 page)

Beck tossed the strawberries over the hedge. “What other subjects did you do?”

“Geography and Economics.”

“So Marine Biologist was going to be quite a challenge.” He grinned at her.

“I like fish.”

“But not prawns.”

Flick winced. “I thought it was a finger.”

“What?”

“Or maybe a penis.”

Beck laughed.

“Well, not a man’s penis, obviously. It was too small, but I thought maybe if a chicken had a penis, it could have been that. It was chewy.”

“Stop right there,” he said.

“Okay.” Nerves made her gabble.

“Flick.”

She watched his Adam’s apple go up and down.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For being a prick.”

She smirked. “That might be difficult.”

“You drive me crazy.”

“Sorry.”

“Mostly in a good way,” Beck added.

“So do you forgive me for driving you crazy in a bad way?” she asked.

“I’m working on it.”

Flick took a deep breath. “I’m not at the club anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

She wished he’d kiss her, but he stayed where he was.

“Are you coming here again tomorrow?” Beck asked.

She nodded. “In the afternoon. Henry said it was okay. I’m working in the morning.”

“I’ll bring you something better than strawberries.”

Hartington Hall seethed with activity when Flick arrived the next day. Walkways had been erected between the Hall, the marquee, the portable washrooms and the car park. Canopies sheltered the paths in case it rained, their support poles decorated with flowers and lights. Inside the marquee, stiff purple cloths covered the tables and a team of people were busy attaching purple cushions to silver chairs. In the far corner, two guys inflated silver and purple foil balloons with helium. From the sound of high-pitched conversation and giggling, Flick guessed those doing the inflating were aged about twelve.

When she walked around the back of the marquee to her little dig site, Flick found Willow sobbing as though her heart had been ripped out. Willow might not like her, but Flick could hardly pretend she couldn’t see.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.”

Having cornered the market in persecution complexes, Flick was afraid to ask “do what?” in case it had something to do with her.

“Don’t cry Willow. You’re supposed to be happy. You’re getting married tomorrow.” And Lady C is going to be your mother-in-law. Yes, that’s enough to make anyone howl hysterically.

“Everything’s going wrong.”

“Such as?”

“Celia is furious with me. The tablecloths are supposed to be purple,” Willow choked out.

Flick thought they were purple. She ran back to the marquee, stuck her head in and hurried back.

“They are purple. They’re pretty.”

“The wrong purple.”

Flick bit her lip and told herself to take this seriously.

“They look lovely,” she said in her best soothing voice, the one she reserved for Fluffy—though it never worked.

“But they’re not what Celia wanted.” Willow almost spat the sentence out.

Flick winced. “It’s your wedding, not hers.”

Willow looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Is it?”

“Course it is.”

“It seems more like this will be her day. Once we said we were getting married she took over. She chose the date, food and the church, even what Giles was going to wear and Mum sided with her because she’s in awe of her.” Willow sighed. “I don’t think Celia agreed with any of my suggestions. I didn’t argue until it came to the tablecloths and we had this huge row. Celia complained to Giles and he got upset. It was horrible, so I gave in and said they could be the purple she wanted, but I was going to choose the napkins. So we made up and his mother was happy and everything was all right until today.”

It had never crossed Flick’s mind that you could argue about the color of tablecloths. On the other hand, the way Celia hijacked the wedding didn’t surprise her at all.

“So is the problem with the tablecloths or the napkins?” Flick handed Willow a tissue from her pocket.

“I ordered napkins to contrast with the tablecloths. A darker shade of purple but they’re the same. They’re going to look so ordinary on the table and I wanted them to look special. Celia thinks I’ve done it on purpose.”

“Come and show me.”

Willow took Flick back into the marquee and opened up a box of napkins. A team of workers were now putting glasses on the tables. Flick thought it all looked beautiful. Willow picked up a square of material and started to wail.

“Wait,” Flick said and started to fold the napkin. “Corner to corner. Other corner to corner. Glass in the middle. Flip over. Bend down. Pull out each little bit,” she mumbled. “Voilà. A water lily. Put something like a white flower in the middle and it will look great.”

Willow looked at it open-mouthed. Flick wasn’t sure whether she was struck dumb by her skill or appalled at the result.

“Hold on.” Flick ran out and back up to the Hall. She grabbed a series of flower heads at random—not roses—and dashed back.

Once flowers sat in the centre of the folded napkin it was transformed.

“What do you think?” Flick asked.

Willow stopped crying. “Can you fold a hundred and sixty-eight?”

“Not on my own. I’ll show you how. We can do it together.”

Or not, Flick thought as Willow messed up the first fold.

“Am I in the right place for origami lessons?” Beck called from the entrance to the marquee.

“Flick has just saved my life,” Willow said.

She pointed to the first flower she’d made on her own. Flick thought it looked more like a dead frog than a lily and when Willow picked it up it fell apart.

“I can’t do it,” Willow moaned.

“Can I help?” Beck asked.

“Watch,” Flick said.

He copied each step and moments later, an identical flower sat next to Flick’s.

“Bloody hell.” Willow whistled.

“He’s very good with his hands,” Flick said, pleased to see Beck blush. “Tell you what, Willow. Why don’t we make them and you put them on the tables and while you’re at it, tell those guys that inhaling helium makes you impotent.”

She was off like a shot and back just as fast. Willow kissed Beck and then Flick. “Thank you so much.”

Once Beck had the hang of it, it became a competition as to who could work the fastest. He licked his top lip when he concentrated. She wished she could do that for him.

“Where did you learn to fold napkins?” he asked.

“In the three months I worked as a waitress. We had competitions for the most beautiful and the most unusual.”

Flick picked up another piece of cloth and folded it back and forth. She put it in front of Beck. “I won with this one.”

He laughed. An unmistakable penis with testicles. “You are so going to hell.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be happy in heaven, much too noisy with all those blessed harps. Being bad is more fun.”

She felt him staring but didn’t look up.

They could hear Willow with the balloon guys. An even higher-pitched voice had joined in. By the time Willow came back, the table in front of Beck and Flick was piled with lilies.

“You guys,” she squeaked. “They’re fabulous.”

“Start putting them on the tables, Miss Mouse,” Flick said.

Celia strode in through the opening of the marquee, and Flick could have sworn the light dimmed.

“Felicity!”

“Now what have I done?”

“My flowers.”

Flick winced.

“I asked her to pick them. I’m so sorry, Celia. I didn’t think to check with you. I wanted to see what they looked like on the napkins. Beck and Flick are helping me. Don’t the tables look lovely? You certainly have a good eye for color and design.”

“Oh, thank you, dear. Yes, I knew I was right.”

“This is going to be a wonderful wedding. I’m so lucky. How are things going at the house? Do you need any help?”

Willow walked Celia out of the tent and returned without her.

“How did you get your lips off her bum?” Flick asked with a smile.

Willow giggled.

“Giles is marrying exactly the right woman,” Beck said. “If you can handle Celia, Giles will be a pushover.”

“I’ve learned a lot over the last few months, although I’m still losing more battles than I win,” Willow said. “Thanks for helping. I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you, Flick. I was upset about you and Giles. Jealous. You’re so gorgeous.”

Flick stared at her in shock. “I’m not, I’m gangly and awkward. My arms are so long that if I had more hair I’d be taken for a gorilla. There has never been anything between me and Giles. I’m sorry I kissed him. He was pushing me away when you saw us.”
Don’t believe me, Beck.
She beamed the thought at his head.

“That’s kind of you Flick, but I know what Giles is like when he’s drunk. I wish you were coming to the wedding.”

“Henry has asked me to look after Gertrude so I’ll be able to see you in your dress, but I have to avoid churches. I’d hate anyone else to be fried by the bolt of lightning God has waiting for me.”

“Glad you told me about that.” Beck grinned. “I’d better not stand too close to Giles either, then.”

“If you like, Willow, I’ll drive you into Ilkley later and we can look for something to put inside the lilies,” Flick said.

Willow beamed.

“I was thinking about condoms,” Flick said, “purple ones to go with the décor.”

Willow shrieked.

Once the lilies were done, Flick left Willow and Beck talking about his speech and went back to her private dig. As she knelt down, she saw a little silver heart glistening in the soil at the bottom of the hole. Flick smiled, slipped it into her pocket and carried on excavating. Something lay just below where she’d found the heart. Flick touched it with her fingers. Not metal or wood. She leaned over and put her head down the hole. It looked like leather.

Beck coughed behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Digging. What are you doing?”

“Supervising.”

“Supervising, my ass.”

“Yes.”

She lifted her head from the hole and turned round to see him grinning.

“I’ve found something,” Flick said. “I don’t want to disturb it. Want to have a look?”

“I’m sure you can manage on your own.”

“So I should pull it out?”

“Yep.”

“What if it is a bomb this time?”

“It’s okay. I’m sitting far enough away.”

“Very funny.”

Flick took hold and pulled hard. She flew backward in a shower of dirt.

“Holy shit, it’s a body,” she gasped.

Beck dropped to her side. No mistaking what she held in her hand. A bone.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“I think it’s a foot,” Flick said. “Look, this is a strip of leather for a sandal. This must be a toe. A centurion’s toe. A centurion’s leather sandal and toe. A Roman centurion’s leather sandal and toe.”

“Are you stopping there? You’re not going to tell me where he was going and if he was married?”

“I’m not the archaeologist.”

Beck took the bone and piece of leather from her hand and looked at it.

“What do you think? Is it Roman?” Flick felt about to burst with excitement.

“You could have found something.”

“What do you mean
could
? Of course I’ve found something. Now what?”

“You need to keep going,” Beck said. “Nice and steady. Don’t break anything.”

“Don’t pull off any more toes, you mean. Anyway, that was your fault. You told me to pull.”

“Well, no more pulling.”

“Are you going to help?”

“I’d rather watch. It’s more interesting. By the way, where did you get your trowel?”

“It was my dad’s and now it’s mine,” Flick said. “Look you can see my teeth marks.”

She waved it in his direction and then put her head back in the hole. Flick was hooked. The only thing that could have stopped her now was an offer of sex from Beck, but there were too many people around so she kept digging.

“You chew your tools?” Beck said.

“I chew everything. It’s a nervous habit. Pencils, nails, anything plastic and particularly tools required for archaeological digs. At least I know what belongs to me.”

More bones. Flick lifted them out of the hole, brushed off the dirt with her paintbrush and carefully laid them on the ground.

Beck made no comment. He opened a bottle of water, leaned back against the pile of boards and watched her.

Flick’s excitement grew by the second. “Why do you think he was buried by the hedge? Do you think he was murdered? I want to find the skull and check for dents.”

“Not sure the hedge would have existed then.” Beck smiled. “Are you sure you got a first-class honors degree in History?”

“Yes,” Flick said. “Why?”

“Nothing.”

“I really need to find the skull.”

“I hope you don’t. Not for a while.”

“Could that be because you’re looking at my underwear?”

“It might be.”

She turned and grinned. “The bones are so small.” Flick looked at the ones she’d laid out on the grass. “Maybe it’s a child. Probably not Roman. Maybe more recent. Victorian. Or even later. Do you think we should call the police?”

“No, I don’t think we need to do that.”

“Look at this bone. It tapers off to practically nothing. The spine?” Flick ran her fingers along it before she stuck her head back down the hole. There was another strip of something. She twisted it free and brought it up into the light. A rusted disc was attached. She rubbed it with her finger and then turned to Beck.

“You knew. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were having fun.”

“So were you, laughing at me thinking I was digging up a Roman and I was digging up Rover.”

“I thought you’d realize when you saw the tail.”

Beck flew backward as Flick launched herself at him. He grabbed her arms and twisted her onto her back. The next moment his lips were on hers and after a momentary struggle she kissed him back harder than he kissed her. The taste of her raced through Beck’s blood and he grew hotter and harder. He’d had an erection ever since he’d seen her bottom sticking up in the air, tantalized by the edge of her black lace panties. Beck ground his hips against hers. He wanted her. Right now.