by Adrien Leduc
Chapter Twelve
UNCLE MARTY’S MAD
The next morning. Troy and Uncle Marty are preparing to leave for the dig site.
“We have to go, Sarah!”
“But Uncle Marty - you didn’t tell us about yesterday! What happened at the dig site? Did you find anything?”
“No...no we didn’t...”
Uncle Marty stoops down to tie his shoes and I allow myself to smile.
They haven’t found it yet...and if Josh and I find it tonight...ohhh, this is going to be so sweet!
“Have you been helping Madame Duguay with her chores?”
“Yes, she’s been very good with helping me,” Madame Duguay answers for me, coming into the hallway, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Sarah, I’ll get a hand if you don’t mind to take the compost out.”
“Of course, Madame Duguay,” I say cheerfully.
I’m in such a good mood now that I know Josh and I stand a good chance at finding the Dumnonian Hoard and rubbing it in Uncle Marty’s face.
“The good thing is that we managed to get that iron grate covering the tunnel fully exposed yesterday,” says Troy, removing his phone from his pocket. “Here, have a look.” He taps away at the screen on his phone for a second and then holds it out for me to see. “There, have a look.”
“I can’t really see anything...”
“Yeah, there wasn’t the best light there,” says Troy, sounding dismayed.
“But, I sort of saw it,” I lie. “That’s really cool. Now are you guys going to take that grate thingy off so you can go inside that tunnel or whatever it is?”
“That’s the plan,” says Uncle Marty gruffly, standing upright now that his shoes are tied. He takes his jacket from the door knob. “Fabrice has sent for a welding team but it’ll be a few days before they get here. They’ll be the ones to cut that grate away. Of course then we’ll have to make sure the tunnel is structurally sound before we even consider inspecting it...that will take another two weeks I suspect.”
“Geez, that’s a long time,” I say, trying not too sound too excited.
We’ll just go ahead and find the Dumnonian Hoard tonight. Let the pros handle it, Uncle Marty.
Uncle Marty sighs. “Yes, it is. But if it yields something promising, then it’s well worth the wait...anyway, we need to be getting on now.” He glances at me. “You and your brother can come again tomorrow how about. Provided you behave and don’t go wandering off again like you did last time.”
Whatever, Uncle Marty. We don’t need to come to the stinking dig site anyway.
“Alright.”
“I appreciate you not complaining too much.”
“Complaining too much?”
“About us leaving you two behind again today.”
I want to smile but manage to keep a straight face. “Ah, it’s alright. Can we at least go tomorrow?”
Because then I can show you the treasure we found.
Uncle Marty looks at Madame Duguay and back at me. “If Madame Duguay says you two are good today, then you two can come tomorrow. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Uncle Marty smiles. “Alright.” He turns to Troy. “We’d best be going. Fabrice was there at six this morning.”
Troy glances at his watch. “That guy’s crazy.”
Uncle Marty laughs. “Tell me about it.”
“He must think we’re lazy,” says Troy, making his way outside, his bag slung over one shoulder.
“He’s crazy, we’re lazy. Typical French, North American dichotomy.”
“Well, not until recently,” comes Troy’s answer as the door closes behind them. “You know the French used to work a thirty hour work week and take three hour lunches...”
Their voices trail off as they make their way down the steps. I hear their feet crunching on the gravel outside and then the slamming of car doors and then the revving of an engine, and then they’re gone.
Madame Duguay wraps an arm around me. “So? What do you feel like doing today? Would you like to go into town? We can stop by the pastry shop and get a few treats for dessert tonight.”
I look at Madame Duguay and smile. “That sounds good, Madame Duguay.”
She smiles and pats me on the shoulder before turning and making for the kitchen. “Alright, well, let’s finish the washing up and then we’ll get going.”