by Leo McNeir
“Will they need a power supply?”
“That’s just it. We can’t let them share ours; we need it for our own stuff.”
“How many cameras?”
“Four, I think.”
Marnie looked at Anne, who shook her head. “We haven’t got any more extension cables.”
“I doubt that’d be a problem,” Dick said. “But do you have any sockets they could use? And more to the point, are you happy about this? They’ll be running or on stand-by all the time they’re here.”
Marnie shrugged. “We did agree to have them, can’t back out now.”
Anne offered to talk to the riggers so that Marnie could get back to work. It was half an hour later before she returned to the office barn.
“Right. I think they’re sorted out now.”
“You’re a treasure, Anne.”
“You had no idea they were coming?”
“None at all. Did they say any more about what the cameras are for?”
“They don’t say a lot, but they’ve put them up so they can see over the whole dig area. Dick says it’s part of their style; they can switch from dig to dig around the country and compare what’s going on. And they’re controlled from a thing called an OB when it’s on site.”
Marnie nodded. “Outside Broadcast van, a lorry with a control centre inside. So what now?”
“That’s it. We can just forget about them. The cameras are black and quite small, mounted at roof level or in trees. If you didn’t know they were there, you’d probably never spot them.”
*
Marnie was grateful that for the rest of the day the smooth running of Walker & Co was able to proceed uninterrupted. She and Anne concentrated on their tasks, which in Anne’s case included regular visits to the archaeologists with chilled water and to mop the occasional fevered brow on the crash pad.
When Anne made her daily trip to the post-box at four-thirty, her bundle of mail included copies of Fellheimer’s article for DS Binns at the police station and Adam Lewisham, the programme researcher at Timeline. She felt confident there would be no more talk of Sarah Anne Day being involved in witchcraft.
Back at Glebe Farm, she saw Angela’s Ford Escort parked beside the garage barn. In the office, Angela was standing beside Marnie’s desk, talking in animated fashion.
“… so he’s only doing it as a face-saver for the archdeacon, I think. Hallo, Anne.”
“Hi. Bad news?”
“No. Thanks to that article you brought me, the bishop’s not going to stop us reburying Sarah.”
“So full steam ahead?”
“Not quite. He wants us to hold off while he conducts an investigation of the research.”
“What does that mean, in real terms?” Marnie asked.
“Not a lot. I think he just wants to have a word with Professor Fellheimer.”
“Who’ll no doubt confirm the validity of his findings.”
“Yes, but it will mean the archdeacon’s objections have been properly followed up, and a slight delay will allow time for things to cool off a little.”
“Good. Have you got time to stay for a cuppa? I want to tell you about a new development.”
Angela glanced at the clock. “Quick one.”
“Okay. I want to tell you about a man.”
“I’m intrigued. Which man?”
“The man who never was.”
Angela grinned. “I wish that was the archdeacon.”
*
Later that evening Anne was sitting on the giant bean-bag in her attic, reading. Music was playing quietly in the background – a tape borrowed from Marnie: Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto – and she had lit a joss stick. After all the running around of the day, she was pleased to have some relaxing time to herself.
She was reading about the architecture of Le Corbusier and was becoming outraged at the sale by the state of the apartments and shops in his housing unit in Marseille, when the phone began ringing in the office below. Anne had turned the rapid descent of the wall-ladder into an art form and she was out of the bean-bag and at her desk before the answerphone cut in.
“Guess what, I’m bored again.”
“Danny! You can’t be bored. This is the subject you’ve chosen to study for the next three years.”
“Oh gawd. It’s all right for you, Anne. You like your subject. I bet you even read your course books for relaxation.” No reply. “Anne? You do, don’t you? I get it. That’s what you’re doing right now, isn’t it?”
“I’m … listening to music.”
“Anne Price, look me straight in the eye and tell me you’re not reading a serious study book.”
“We’re talking on the phone, Danny, I can hardly –”
“Huh!”
“Danny, I’d invite you to come up for the weekend, but we just freak you out. You think we’re all spooky!” She made an exaggerated woo-woo sound that turned into a snort of laughter.
“No I don’t.”
“Look me straight in the bloodshot eye and tell me –”
Danny screamed and laughed simultaneously. It was quite an achievement, though she nearly choked. When her coughing spasm faded she gradually regained the power of speech.
“I don’t think you’re spooky, Anne, or Marnie and Ralph, or your friends. I really don’t.”
“You’re welcome to come for the weekend if you’d like to.”
“Anything happening up there?” Danny tried not to sound wary. “Anybody else around?”
“Nope. Just the three of us. We’re hoping to have a quiet weekend before the onslaught.”
“The what?”
“Timeline. They’re coming next week to begin filming. They’ve already installed some special cameras.”
“That sounds interesting. Just the three of you, you said?”
“Want to make it a foursome?”
“Usual time, usual place.”
Chapter 22
Offence
Saturday fulfilled its promise. Anne collected Danny from the bus station, and mid-morning it was already hot and sunny. The newspapers had exhausted all the permutations of Phew! What a scorcher! headlines, and the media were talking about record temperatures and sunshine.
Within less than an hour of donning her bikini, Anne was forced to retreat to the shelter of the spinney to prevent herself from turning into a lobster. Dolly came to recline beside her sunlounger, while Anne read the latest issue of Domus magazine. Danny the sun-worshipper managed another half hour before she too moved into the shade.
After a short stint in her bikini, Marnie pulled on a T-shirt and disappeared on board Sally Ann to emerge minutes later with iced lemonade that she had made the evening before. Ice cubes were chinking in the tall glasses as she handed them round and joined Ralph under the parasol.
In a half-whisper Danny murmured. “Amazing. Even Ralph’s taking it easy, but I bet that’s a textbook he’s reading.”
Anne surprised Danny by calling out. “Ralph, what’s that you’re reading?”
“It’s a book on the overheating of economies in the Far East.”
Danny sighed.
Anne grinned and announced proudly, “Most of the books he reads have got sub-titles two lines long.”
Danny tried not to snigger.
Anne added, “And most of them are by people he knows.” She raised her voice. “Who wrote that book, Ralph?”
“I did.”
Danny was incredulous. “But if you wrote it, why d’you need to read it?”
“Partly for pleasure, partly to reassess my conclusions.”
Danny sipped her drink and slumped back on the recliner. “You know, Anne, I wonder if I’m really cut out for university.”
Anne turned towards her friend. “Look on the bright side. It’s not all about lepers’ graves, burnings and hangings, is it?”
Danny sighed. “No. There is that to be said for sociology, I suppose.”
*
On Sunday afternoon, after a su
pine morning and a lunch of melon, Greek salad and yogurt with honey, they took Sally Ann for a tootle. The countryside looked parched and, for all the fine weather, few boats had ventured out in the heat of the day. They travelled for an hour before tying up under a tree for iced coffee.
Danny took the tiller for the homeward run and made a major effort to improve her steering. Anne stood watch beside her, giving moral support and the occasional nudge. Danny rarely strayed from mid-channel and felt pleased with herself as she handed the helm back to Marnie for docking, while Anne walked the gunwale to secure the fore end alongside Thyrsis.
As they cleared the footbridge, Anne turned and waved back to attract attention. She pointed ahead. Marnie, Ralph and Danny craned their necks to see what had aroused her interest. Standing on the bank between Thyrsis and Exodos, they saw Dick Blackwood and Celia Devere in animated conversation.
Dick broke away to take a rope from Ralph and help make Sally Ann fast. With their heads close together, Ralph spoke quietly.
“Is there a problem?”
Dick glanced round and saw Celia talking to Marnie. “It’s absurd. Celia’s got her undies in a tangle over absolutely nothing. One minute she was just asking about progress, the next she’s saying we’ve ditched her. Crazy.”
“Let’s see if we can build bridges.” Ralph walked across Thyrsis and stepped ashore. “Celia, hallo. Nice to see you. We weren’t expecting you this afternoon, were we?”
“No. Er, Dick rang and said he was coming down to check things over before the dig tomorrow.”
“I wanted everything to be ship-shape,” Dick explained, “with Timeline coming.”
“You’re always punctilious about everything,” Marnie said.
Celia made a small sound that might have signified dissent.
“Is everything ship-shape?” Ralph asked Dick.
“Yeah, seems to be. One or two of the test-pit edges could be straighter, but I’ll get the students onto that first thing, before the TV bods get going.”
Marnie turned to Celia. “Did you come for something in particular? You’re always welcome, of course –”
“I just wanted to know what was going on.” Celia sounded miffed.
Marnie was taken aback. “Going on?”
“No-one tells me anything these days. It was originally our dig, after all, before it got taken over and we got sidelined.”
“But I thought you said Dick rang you up.”
“What? Well, yes, in a way.”
“I rang Celia to let her know we’d be filling in Sarah’s grave temporarily –”
“I wasn’t happy to be informed. I would expect to be consulted.”
Dick spread his hands. “We got a message from the bishop’s office that the reburial was being delayed pending further investigations. We couldn’t just leave the grave open like that.‘
Celia looked exasperated. “I would’ve thought the diocesan authorities would contact us, as owners of the land.”
“They are,” Dick said.
“They haven’t.”
“No, but they’re sending you a letter, a formal letter, if you like.”
“Then why did they tell you first?”
“It was urgent. They want the grave filled in before filming starts. We’ve got to get it done first thing Monday morning.”
“We could have told Henry Tutt to throw the soil back in. I don’t see what –”
“Celia, it’s a possible crime scene and an archaeological site as well as being a disturbed grave. It has to be treated differently from a normal grave. The bishop and the police want it handled by archaeologists. We’ll record its condition then put down a membrane to protect the inside before backfilling.”
Celia scowled. “And what’s this about cameras being set up?”
“I’ll show you them, Celia. Timeline only installed them on Friday.”
“But why wasn’t I informed about them officially?”
Dick looked from Marnie to Ralph, at a loss to understand the situation.
Marnie came to his rescue. “They just turned up, Celia. No-one had told us, either. But it’s what they always do, apparently.”
“These television people think they can do what they like.”
Dick made a gesture towards the spinney. “Would you like me to show you them?”
A curt shake of the head from Celia. “No thank you.”
“All right then, I’d better be getting along. I’ve still got things to check on the dig. See you tomorrow.”
For a few seconds there was an awkward silence as they watched Dick walk away. Marnie was the first to speak.
“Celia, I don’t think any slight was intended by anyone. People are just getting on with their jobs. I’m sure they aren’t being discourteous to you personally.”
“It’s not just me, Marnie.”
“Your husband is unhappy about how things are being handled?”
“Well, no, not Hugh so much. But Marcus is getting very agitated about the whole thing.”
“Marcus?” Ralph said.
“My father-in-law. It’s really getting under his skin.”
“There is a lot of upheaval, of course,” Marnie said. “Older people can find things like that unsettling.”
“He was muttering about it only yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went into a decline over it all. He’s not well, you know. He’s got some condition … with a long name.”
Marnie looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it might be wise in the circumstances to hold off with your redecoration for a while. That’s going to be much more disruptive than the dig going on down here.”
“It’s not this dig that’s bothering him, Marnie. He’s hardly aware of anything happening down here.”
“What then?”
“The grave site, of course. It is on our land, after all. Imagine how unsettling that is for him, digging up that old witch –”
“She was only twenty-three, Celia, and she wasn’t a –”
“All right, but you know what I mean. It’s still a disturbed grave. Marcus is very agitated about it.”
“On religious grounds?” Ralph suggested. “I believe you’re church-goers.”
“Only me. Hugh doesn’t do religion, but Marcus is RC.”
“The Deveres are catholics?”
“Of course. Hugh’s lapsed, but the old boy has a visit from a priest once a month. Not that he’s got anything to confess, I’d imagine, at his age.”
Celia declined the offer of tea and took her leave. Marnie walked with her through the spinney.
“All this will be over in a few weeks, Celia, then life will settle back to normal.”
“Normal? We’ve got a disturbed grave to be sorted out, a hideous burial ceremony to go through, an investigation into an unsolved murder and witchcraft going on in the woods.”
Marnie laughed gently. “Since you put it like that …”
Celia glared at her and then, slowly, relaxed. “There is also the other thing.”
“I’d really like you to look forward to having the house redecorated, Celia. It’ll be beautiful when it’s finished, and it won’t take very long. You’ll love it.”
“I didn’t mean that. I suppose I’m feeling distraught because Hugh told me he’d be away on business for a couple of days again this coming week.”
“Norwich?”
“You guessed.”
“It is a major centre for business.”
“And – more to the point – we have a cottage not far from there. Very convenient.”
*
“Sorry about that Celia business, Danny.” Anne waited until she had reached the dual carriageway that evening before starting the conversation. “I didn’t know she was going to turn up. Celia Devere always spoils the atmosphere.”
“Oh no. I enjoyed that bit. She’s amazing, looks just like Princess Di. Having her around must be like living in a soap opera.”
“A soap opera? Well, she’s never dull, that’s for sure
.” Anne laughed and glanced sideways at her friend. “Does she qualify as another weirdo?”
“Yeah, but I can manage that sort. Is she rich?”
“Probably.”
“She acts like she owns everything. Does she live in a big manor house?”
“Yes, Knightly Court. It’s gorgeous: beautiful house, beautiful grounds.”
“Anne, I’ve had a great weekend.”
“But we didn’t do anything.”
“So what? I can’t wait for the next episode.”
Chapter 23
Timeline
Monday began like any other working day, but changed dramatically at nine when the archaeologists arrived. As usual Anne went out to check they had everything they needed. It was another bright sunny morning. At the farmhouse, Bob and a carpenter were carrying timber through the doorway, chatting about the works. Anne was calling hallo when she saw something that stopped her dead.
Beyond the buildings and reaching up above the treetops stood a monster, a huge dinosaur rearing up over the land. Anne blinked and took one step backwards, mouth open. Seeing her, the builders put down their load and rushed over.
“What’s up, Anne?”
She pointed. The three of them watched in amazement as the thing turned its head in their direction. It was a giant crane, taller and somehow more sinister than anything Anne had ever seen before. In the platform on top they could now make out two men, tiny figures operating a camera.
“What the hell,” Bob began.
“It’s them. It must be – Timeline.”
As they stared up at the sky, a helicopter buzzed past the dinosaur and circled over the site. Through a gap in its side they saw a camera protruding.
Bob was still muttering. “It’s like the War of the bloody Worlds.”
“Day of the bloody Triffids,” Anne agreed.
At the HQ barn, Anne found the students grouped round the Land Rovers and minibus, looking upwards, hands shading their eyes, a colony of meerkats at full stretch. In the middle of the group, Dick was clapping his hands for attention.
“Come on! Come on! Gotta get going. Let’s show these TV types how real archaeologists work.”
While the students went for their equipment, Dick turned to Anne. “Morning! I’ll swear some of this lot are wearing eye make-up and blusher.” He chuckled. “And I wouldn’t put it past some of the girls, either.”