Digging Deeper (14 page)

“You can take your finger away,” George said.

“Are you sure?”
Please let it be a bomb. Just not a live one.

“Quite sure.”

Flick moved her hand and sat up. Her arm shook and she pulled it to her chest, massaging her fingers. The sergeant carried on digging until he’d revealed what Flick had been glued to for the last hour.

“Have you defused it?” she asked. “Maybe it’s a bomb in disguise.”

“Not really necessary to defuse a singing reindeer.”

Flick stared in horror at a grubby plastic wall plaque featuring Rudolph’s face and a bulbous red nose. The strains of the Christmas song were now clearly audible.

“Can we pretend it was a bomb?” She glanced toward the house and the hoards of people standing behind yellow tape. It looked as if the whole of Ilkley was there. “Haven’t you got something you could use to blow it up? Just a little explosion? Even firework-sized? Could we scream and fall on the floor?”

“Too late.” George motioned with his head toward the monitor, which was transmitting the song back to its mate. “Don’t feel too bad. Better safe than sorry. Come on, let’s get you checked out.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered for the hundredth time.

What terrible luck, Flick thought. If only it had been a bomb.

———

Beck paced up and down, his stomach churning, his heart pounding. He heard Henry laughing behind him and spun round.

“What’s so funny?” Beck demanded.

“Willow bought Giles a present last Christmas, one we couldn’t shut up.”

Henry held up the monitor and Beck heard the strains of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”.

“It drove us all mad. Anything set it off—movement, sound, light. Couldn’t get the bloody batteries out. Giles got rid of it. I think we just found out what he did with it.” Henry chortled.

One by one those around them started to laugh until a collective roar of merriment rose into the air. Beck’s mouth was still dry. Sweat soaked his shirt. He wanted to laugh with everyone else but couldn’t.

“Where’s she off to?” Henry asked, his gaze following Flick.

“Can we leave now?” Dina whined at Beck’s side.

“Go back and tidy the site first,” Beck said.

He set off after Flick who had stamped her way into the woods.

Beck found her sitting on a fallen tree.

“Hiding?” he asked.

“Oh God, can you see me? I’m as thick as a plank so I thought I was well camouflaged.”

She was filthy, her face and arms covered with dirt. Beck sat down next to her.

“Christmas is cancelled,” she said. “I never want to hear ’Rudolph the bloody Red-Nosed Reindeer’ again.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Feeling embarrassed, humiliated and a little stupid?” he asked.

“You don’t need to be,” Flick said. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Beck laughed. “So, do you remember what you said?”

Her head dropped. “I was desperate. I didn’t want to die without someone wishing I hadn’t.”

Beck edged a little closer. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

He wanted to kiss her. He was going to kiss her. Just—

“Beck, Beck,” Dina called, rushing up.

“What?” Beck snapped and turned to face her.

“Matt won’t come out of the tent. He’s having a panic attack. He’s breathing all funny.”

When Beck turned to Flick, she’d gone.

Beck heard the throaty purr of Isobel’s car pulling onto the drive just as he finished eating. Matt and Ross sprang up from the table, tripping over each other in their haste to get to the door. Beck wandered into the hall in time to see them fighting for the honor of carrying her luggage. Isobel Marshall was petite and perfectly formed with large breasts, tiny waist, dancing eyes and long, thick flaxen hair tinted with auburn.

“Hello, gorgeous. Good journey?” Beck asked.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Hello, handsome. No, completely shitty. From Leeds to here was an absolute nightmare. Stop-start all the way, and more bloody speed cameras than lampposts.” She tossed her handbag onto the hall table. “What is there to drink?”

“I’ve…”

“Do you…”

Neither Matt nor Ross finished what they were saying but clattered upstairs to their stash of alcohol.

Isobel handed her car keys to Beck. “Don’t go above eighty. The windscreen wipers have a rhythm of their own and the clutch is temperamental. Don’t shove it down too hard.”

“Isobel, you’re an angel.”

“How’s the dig?”

“Fabulous,” Beck lied.

“Like pig-shite then, I take it?”

“The troops are disillusioned, demoralized and depressed. Now you’re here, that will all change.”

“Is the site really a washout?”

“Today I had to stop them cataloguing gravel. Plus we had the armed forces out this afternoon after a singing Christmas decoration was mistaken for a bomb.”

“Which one of our idiots did that?”

“Fortunately, not one of ours.”

“Ah, lovely boys. What shall we open first?” Isobel beamed at Ross and Matt who’d slid most of the way downstairs, clutching bottles, twin gazes hovering between her face and chest. Dina stood watching, her eyes narrowed. Jane hovered by the kitchen door.

“We’ll stay in, order pizza, get pissed and you can tell me what’s been happening,” Isobel said.

Matt and Ross bounced like puppies. Beck expected to see tongues hanging out any second. Dina, on the other hand, stood tapping her feet, coming up to the boil.

“Come on, get some glasses, Jane. I want to know everything. Who’ve we upset so far?”

While Isobel took control, Beck nipped up to get his bag. Dina caught him on the way out.

“Where are you going?”

“To stay with a friend.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” She sniffled.

“No,” Beck said. “I need to be somewhere quiet in the evenings to work on my book.”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” Her face crumpled.

Shit. “You’re very attractive.” But not when she pulled her face into that shape.

“You don’t think my nose is too big?”

Yes. “No.” Beck backed toward the door.

“We were all so close to death. I realized I shouldn’t be afraid of expressing my feelings.” She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

Beck found himself holding his breath.

“I really, really like you, Beck. I feel we have a connection.”

Was it a girl thing, Beck wondered? If he was faced with possible death, he wanted to eat his favorite meal and watch Manchester United slaughter Chelsea, not talk about feelings. Only he was glad Flick had told him he took her breath away and now he wished he’d said the same thing, instead of making that pathetic crack about her being ugly. She’d laughed, but what if she was insulted? God, what an idiot.

“Dina, I’m flattered that you fancy me,” he said. “But it’s not going to go anywhere. You’re my student. I’m responsible for your education. I’m not going to have a relationship with you.” He felt relieved and very mature when he’d said it. If he’d really been mature he’d have said it a week ago.

———

When Josh and Kirsten walked in humming “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, Flick groaned.

“How do you know?” she demanded.

“Bush telegram, otherwise known as local radio. Haven’t you had a call from the TV yet?” Josh asked “Don’t tell me they know my name,” Flick said in horror.

“You’re an unidentified local woman,” Kirsten said.

“No nice adjectives with that?”

“Such as?” Kirsten asked.

“Beautiful, attractive, witty, intelligent. Or did they actually say stupid, half-soaked and idiotic?”

Then the phone rang.

“I’m not in. I don’t live here,” Flick said.

Kirsten picked up the receiver and shook her head. “Sorry, could you say that again? Er…could you say that again?”

Flick breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’ll have to speak up. I’ve been at the firing range and I’m temporarily deaf,” Kirsten shouted.

Eventually she got cut off. Kirsten checked her watch and wrote down the time.

“You are so mean to your mother,” Flick said.

“That wasn’t your mother?” Josh asked in alarm.

“Too easy, Josh.” Flick ducked as he threw a cushion.

———

“Beck? Are you awake? I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

A woman’s voice. Beck’s eyes flashed open and he scanned the room, breathing out in relief when he realized the voice had come from the other side of the door. Willow, not Dina.

“Are you decent?” Willow asked.

“He won’t be and you’re certainly not. I’ll take that in,” Beck heard Giles say. The door opened.

“Sleep okay?” Giles asked.

“Great.” Beck sat up.

“Good, because I have a feeling you’re about to have a bad day.” Giles handed over the tea.

“Why?” Beck didn’t like the grin on Giles’ face.

“Dad’s rung to say the press are camped out at the Hall. It’s silly season. I’ve already guessed the headline. ‘Indy unearths singing sensation’.”

“That had nothing to do with the dig.”

“Ah, but why let the truth interfere with a good story. One of your students caused the rumpus and they want the story from your mouth, with photos.”

“Shit.” Beck thought about what his head of department was going to say and wanted to slide back under the covers.

“If I were you,” Giles said, “I’d go up to the Hall, make a statement and get it out of the way.”

“If you were me, you’d have left the country.”

Giles coughed uncomfortably. “Well, I only did that because Yasmin’s brothers were after me.”

“Since all this is down to Flick, maybe if I give them her name, they’ll leave me alone.” Beck groaned. “She’s caused me nothing but trouble since the moment I saw her.”

“Flick’s not a threat to you.”

“In the way a killer whale isn’t a threat to a seal pup?”

“And what a cuddly little seal pup you are.”

“Piss off,” Beck hissed, but when Giles had gone, he smiled.

———

Beck took his time over breakfast in the hope that the press would have evaporated by the time he walked up to the Hall. He ate a bowl of cornflakes one flake at a time, but soggy corn was no match for the patient press. They’d sniffed a juicy story and it would take an earthquake to shift them.

He was amazed at the number of reporters and photographers milling about on the gravel. Henry stood on the steps and waved to him.

“Professor Beckett.”

Beck felt like a goldfish tossed into a pool of piranhas. All faces turned and he struggled amidst a sea of arms waving microphones. Henry pulled Beck to his side.

“I was waiting for you. We’ll face them together.” Henry had a gleam in his eye.

“Is it true you risked your life staying with your student?” someone shouted.

“Is it true you and she are having an affair?”

Beck’s eyes opened wide in alarm.

“They don’t know about Flick. Don’t give them her name,” Henry whispered.

“Can’t your students tell the difference between a Roman artifact and a piece of twenty-first century crap?” yelled a woman.

“Is this a publicity stunt?” called another woman.

“It worked,” someone else shouted and everyone laughed.

Beck pulled himself together. “The point is,” he said in a firm voice, “you don’t take risks with people’s lives. If it had been an unexploded grenade or a mortar you’d have a very different story to write, maybe even a tragic one. I think it was brave of her to have stayed where she was until the army investigated.”

“Can you give us the name of the student? We’d like a photo of the two of you together.”

“With Rudolph,” someone added.

“No,” said Beck. “Contrary to what you think it wasn’t a Yorkshire University student involved.”

“The young lady in question was a visitor here and has now left,” Henry said.

Interesting, Beck thought.

“What’s her name? What was she doing on your dig?” someone called.

“She has no connection with the dig.” Beck wondered how many times he had to repeat it. Not that it would make any difference. If they wanted her to be a student, they’d say she was. “The incident occurred in a field adjacent to the one in which we’re working. There’s nothing more to say. This story is as dead as the one about the Beast of Ilkley Moor.” Beck forced himself to smile.

He heard Henry coughing at his side and turned to look at him.

“Well, actually I did see the Beast on Monday night,” Henry said. “In the field where the dig is taking place.”

The microphones moved away from Beck’s face to Henry’s. Fresh blood and Beck had the feeling Henry had deliberately opened a vein.

“Do you think it was trying to warn you about the bomb?” came a voice.

Beck suppressed a laugh. Some of these people had to be sharing a single brain cell.

“Can you describe it?” asked a woman.

“It had a long thin tail. Looked like some sort of cat but it reared up on its back legs at one point. It was dark-colored except for the tail.”

Beck sidled off as Henry talked.

As he walked back down to Giles’ house, he took out his phone and rang Isobel. “Fancy a day off?”

“I’ve only just got here.”

“The press are swarming. They want a story, and although the bomb scare had nothing to do with us, we’re going to get dragged in. Make all five of them promise not to talk to anyone about what happened.”

“That won’t work.”

“Take them to Lightwater Valley theme park for the day and stick them on a few roller coasters. I’ll pay.”

“That might work. I’ll call you later.”

Beck had things to do. No, one thing to do. Find Flick. Take her breath away again by kissing her because he’d been wondering how much more of a hint he needed? She liked him. More than liked him. He just had to convince her he felt the same way.

Flick had promised to spend the day laboring for Bob Hulme, a farmer who owned a large chunk of land around Timble. They’d chatted in the pub a couple of weeks before and Flick had told him she’d studied drystone walling. He’d made the irresistible offer of payment for her help rebuilding several sections in his fields.

Maybe the word “studied” had been a slight exaggeration. Not one man had registered for the course and the teacher not only had a moustache but boobs. Flick hadn’t bothered with lesson two but how hard could it be? No cement to mix up, slap on and scrape off. More like an overweight three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. It was merely a matter of selecting the right shaped rocks and stacking them in a pyramid. Easy.