The Digger's Rest (22 page)

“
Oh, please forgive me. Lady Madeline
Cotswold, this is my assistant, the soon-to-be Dr. Simon Holly.”
Simon stepped up, took Lady Cotswold’s hand and bowed as he had
done with Madame Duvalier. “I’ve read so much of your work. It’s
truly a great honor to meet you, Lady Cotswold” Simon said, bowing
again, thinking,
English aristocracy. Holy
Moly! What next?

“
Why, thank you, young man. It’s good
to know that I’m still read somewhere in the world,” she said
dryly, but flattered nonetheless. “…and this is my assistant Miss
Sandrine Boucher,” Lady Madeline said, bringing Sandrine forth to
meet the men. They each took her hand and said, “It’s a pleasure,
Miss Boucher.”

Then Mitch said to them both, “Please ladies,
won’t you join us?”

Chapter X

DIG THIS!

I can dig it,

he can dig it,

she can dig it,

we can dig it,

they can dig it,

you can dig it.

Oh, let's dig it.

Can you dig it, baby?

Grazing in the Grass

……
..As performed by The Friends of
Distinction

Lady Cotswold and Sandrine took their seats
in the ladylike fashion they had both been taught by Lord Neville,
as would have been expected. Mitch, still standing, pulled out the
chair next to him allowing Lady Madeline to seat herself, then
helped her push her chair into the table. As he did with so many
other things, Simon followed suit, keeping with Mitch’s actions in
helping Sandrine seat herself next to him.

Once they were all seated, Lady Madeline
spoke directly to Mitch, her eyes peering into his. She wasn’t
about to mince words with him since she’d known Jack longer
and…more intimately than he did. “So, Dr. Bramson, I’m dying to
know. What could be so important to Jack Edgeworth that he would
send not only a million dollars but also his best man to England
for what may turn out to be just a routine ruin?”

“
Well, Lady Cotswold…first, since we’ll
be working together so closely you might as well call me Mitch,” he
said meeting her directness with his own. Just then he heard the
clink of china close to him and purposely didn’t look up.
Please don’t let it be her,
he
thought. The last thing I need right now is a scene in front of
Lady Cotswold.”

He heard a woman’s voice say “Your tay,
Laydee Cotswowd,” and heaved a sigh of relief. It was a chirpy
village accent, and he looked up. It was Fi, the pretty blonde
waitress who’d shown him to his room the night before. He smiled
and winked at her disarmingly, trying to assure himself that he
still had it after having been chilled out of his BVDs by the red
head. He still couldn’t get over it in his mind. Women never spoke
to him like that, especially redheads. They’d always been his
specialty.

“
Thank you, my dear,” Lady Cotswold
said to Fi, making room on the table for the teapot, toast and
strawberry jam pot she’d ordered in advance when she
arrived.

“
Not a’tall, your Laydeeship. My
pleasuh,” Fi chirped again, making a small curtsy before she left.
Sandrine poured tea for Lady Madeline and herself as Lady Madeline
spread some jam on her toast, then directed her attention back to
Mitch.

“
You were saying…Mitch,” she said,
smiling slyly to let Mitch know she hadn’t lost her train of
thought. He decided then that the best tack to take was the same
one she’d used with him, the direct approach. Lady Madeline took a
sip of her tea and a bite of her toast, not taking her attention
away from him for a second

“
Well, Lady Madeline. It’s Jack’s hope
that, given the location and the timeframe, we might just come
across some small proof of Arthur,” he said, leaning into her with
an air of confidence but not taking his eyes from hers. The smile
from Lady Madeline’s face dropped as she fought to conceal the fact
that she almost choked; swallowing hard and clearing her throat
instead.

“
If you’re referring to King
Arthur…Pendragon, you must be joking,” she said and laughed
lightly, thinking he was, indeed, joking. Mitch just raised his
eyebrows and shrugged, shaking his head.

As her mind absorbed what Mitch had
said, her thoughts went into overdrive.
Bastard!
she thought.
It
did make sense, but being a true dyed-in-the-wool Englishwoman,
neither I, nor Neville apparently, could see the forest for the
trees and it took an American, of all things, to see the
possibility of the forest.
Her expression changed to
serious. “I’m listening,” she said patiently, but thinking to
herself,
Bloody Americans!

From there Mitch explained their
Tintagel/Exeter/ Glastonbury Triangle theory, assuring Lady
Madeline that they had no illusions of finding the Holy Grail or
anything of the sort, but that they were merely looking for some
evidence that there did exist a king named Arthur in the time
period somewhere between the 5th and 6th centuries.

It was just that simple; it could be
something as small as a coin with his image or a notation in a book
or scroll indicating that he was hosted there, or was even reviled
or feared there. The more she listened the more Lady Madeline had
to admit to herself that the possibility existed that if such a man
as King Arthur ever existed, there might just be some proof of it
left behind in a noble’s castle, whether he be ally or enemy, and
the thought of finding it made her blood course through her
veins.

They spent the rest of their breakfast time
discussing the nuts and bolts of how to approach the dig. While
they talked, Sandrine took notes on a small pad with Simon, being
the New Yorker he was, taking out his little black recorder to
record everything.

They agreed right off the bat that, given the
fair weather of the day, they should go from breakfast to their
respective quarters and collect what they might need for an initial
examination of the site. It was ten-thirty A.M. by the time the
group broke up, agreeing to reassemble in the entry hall an hour
later.

With the ladies having left the table shortly
before the men, Mitch got a brainstorm as he approached the
reception podium and saw Declan standing there going over the
coming day’s reservations.

“
Good morning, Deck. How are you?”
Mitch said cheerfully, the food and coffee having brought him back
from his hangover.

“
Very fine, Dr. Bramson,” then to
Simon, “Good morning, Simon,” Deck said smiling with a wink, his
entire appearance seeming lighter, brighter and paler in the
daylight.

Mitch walked up close to the podium. “I’ve
been meaning to speak to you, Deck. I suppose everyone around here
knows why we’re here?” Mitch asked him, the weird encounters of the
night before coming back to him in a flood.

“
Yes, I suppose you might say that,”
Deck answered and shrugged guiltily. “It’s a very small village,
Dr. Bramson. Not many secrets stay secret for very long around
here.”

“
Well that’s why I wanted to talk to
you. We’re going to need a few extra able-bodied men to help us out
on the site. No experience necessary, just the ability to lift and
carry, dig and sift, and I was wondering if you might know anyone,
some local lads maybe who might like to earn a few extra bucks…” he
stopped there to reword himself in their vernacular. “…quid.”
Deck’s eyes shifted around for a moment, thinking, then went
wide.

“
Yes, yes. I would,” he said, his eyes
widening innocently and his voice taking on the tenor of a young
boy who just been asked if he wanted to go to
Disneyland.

“
Brilliant!” Mitch said, taking on more
and more of their expressions as he got back to being comfortable
there, “…and I could use one or two more, if you have any mates who
might be interested. I can pay two hundred and fifty quid for a
five-day work week, more if we get overloaded and need a sixth
day.

“
Wow, yes. I could really use that. I’m
in,” Deck said excitedly. “Just give me the day to rework the
schedule here and tell Mal. I can be ready to go with you
tomorrow.”

As soon as Mitch and Simon had gone, Deck
rushed back toward the kitchen. “Mal! Mal!” he called out
excitedly. Malcolm was on the phone and held up his finger
whispering, “Just a minute,” when Deck pushed through the door. By
the time he hung up the phone, Deck was up close to him.

“
Mal, you’ll never believe what’s
happened. Dr. Bramson has asked me to join his dig over at
Crane’s.” Malcolm Farthing had long grown used to his younger
brother’s excitability over small things but was expecting nothing
like what he’d just heard.

“
What?” he said, sounding annoyed.
Malcolm Farthing was also not one for having his surroundings
altered, especially on short notice. ‘You can’t. I won’t allow it,”
he said, tight lipped. “Your place is here at the inn. You’re
needed here.”

“
But Mal, this may be my chance. If I
work well for Dr. Bramson…he might be able to get me job in
America,” Deck said, almost jumping up and down. The last statement
sent Malcolm’s thoughts swirling even more.
Deck leaving the inn? Going to America?
It hit
him like a sharp slap in the face and his emotions ran rampant,
shocked, hurt, angry and…afraid.

Even as a small boy, he’d always known that
Deck was a bit of a dreamer, but it’d never occurred to him that he
would ever really want to leave. He struck out at him before he’d
had time to think.

“
I absolutely forbid it!” Malcolm
shouted, pointing his finger at Deck angrily. Deck’s eyes turned
from excited to hurt, like a child who’d just been told, ‘You
cannot have that puppy’.

“
But, Mal, I’m a grown man. You can’t
forbid me. This could be my big chance to get out of here,” Deck
sulked quietly. The way he’d said it hurt Malcolm even more and he
flew off the handle.

“
You want to leave me and Ivy, and our
home, our lives. After I’ve raised you all these years Mum and Dad
have been in Australia. It would break Ivy’s heart…and mine. I
can’t believe you want to get away from us so badly? Has it been
that horrible for you here?” he said, no longer sounding angry but
as hurt as he felt.

“
No, Mal. It’s not like that at all.
This will always be my home and I love you both very much. I just
want to see the world. I can’t spend all my life never having left
the village, gone nowhere, done nothing, and this can be my chance.
If I work well for him, maybe I can get to see America,” Deck
pleaded.

Malcolm just stood there scattered into
thinking in three minds. First, what would he ever do if he didn’t
have Deck there with him? It would be like losing an arm or a leg.
He’d looked out for him all his life, even before his parents went
to Australia. He’d always been the man of the family, taking care
of Deck and Ivy, worrying about them, making sure they were
comfortable and happy. Then his second mind took over, telling him
that his first mind was being selfish and stupid. Did he really
raise Deck just to keep him close like a captive bird in a cage,
denying Deck his dreams because of his own insecurities?

His third mind, one he hadn’t expected,
pushed the other two aside. He remembered when they’d found Sean
Donnelly after wandering around in the woods for twenty-four hours,
blind and talking craziness about voices in the ruins and a
fireball in the sky. He’d thought it was nonsense when it happened,
but when he thought about it just then, it scared him. Somewhere
deep in his guts, it made him afraid for Deck.

After the few minutes it took for the battle
of his three minds to settle and sort themselves into their proper
priorities, Malcolm spoke. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing to
be done,” he said looking at Deck seriously and shaking his
head.

“
What’s that, Mal?” Deck asked humbly,
fearing he might have breached the closeness they’d always shared
and not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“
I guess I’ll just have to go with
you,” Mal answered, shaking his head and smiling like the
exasperated older brother he had been all his life.

“
Thank you, Mal,” Deck said with a deep
sigh of relief, going over to him and engulfing the smaller man in
his big arms.

“
Stop, stop,” Malcolm said pushing him
away, but in his heart wanting to hold him closer. “Don’t be too
happy yet. We still have to tell Ivy, and she’s not going to like
it. Not one bit,” he said, thinking back to the episode with Dr.
Bramson earlier that morning.

***

At eleven-thirty, Mitch and Simon met Lady
Madeline and Sandrine at the entrance to the inn, each of them
carrying a shoulder bag with whatever they thought they would need
for their first examination of the site. Lady Madeline had changed
completely from well-dressed aristocrat to rough-and-ready explorer
in fatigue shorts, hiking boots and knee socks. Sandrine had
dressed down from a proper frock into a gray sweatshirt that read
Oxford University, jeans and sneakers.

Mitch kept his hair in a ponytail and wore a
faded, oversized blue jean shirt and old faded jeans and boots.
Simon went for the hooded sweat shirt that read Columbia University
and oversized cargo pants that would be big enough to cover his
brace. When Sandrine saw Simon she grinned, pointing to the
lettering on her sweatshirt. Simon pointed to his own, smiling and
blushing; a little friendly competition.