by Leo McNeir
He had come into their lives two years earlier at a time when the far right had been fighting a European parliamentary election in Northamptonshire. Fiercely opposed to the extreme right-wing – his German family had suffered greatly under the Nazi regime – Donovan had taken part in activities aimed at thwarting the fascist campaign. When the far-right leader had been shot dead, Donovan left town in a hurry and had been careful not to be seen too often in the area.
Donovan had a habitual preference for dark clothing, a taste which extended to his narrowboat, which was painted all over in battleship grey. This led Anne to compare it to a U-boat or even a stealth narrowboat. The interior was similarly monochrome, decorated in shades of grey. The boat bore the name XO2, which was Donovan’s hieroglyph for exodos, Greek for exit. It was typically cryptic of Donovan to choose such a name when he dropped out, and he had lived on board, travelling around during his gap year.
When they had first got to know him, Marnie and her friends had suspected he might be a Nazi sympathiser, given his enigmatic style and uncommunicative manner. Subsequent events had proved them wrong, and he was now an important part of their lives, albeit on a rather peripatetic basis.
*
Marnie and Anne presented themselves at the entrance to the compound shortly before eleven. A burly man wearing a jacket sporting the logo of a security firm asked them for their passes. Marnie explained this was their first visit to the site during normal working hours and they had yet to receive them. She handed him a business card and suggested he check his list of authorised persons. Satisfied as to their bona fides, the man stood aside to let them in, reminding Marnie they should collect their passes before leaving.
As Marnie walked past the guard, she said, “Oh by the way, we have another colleague joining us this morning. You may not have his name on your list. Donovan Smith.”
“He’ll be easy to recognise,” said Anne.
The security man looked at her. “Would he be a little taller than yourselves, slim, with short blonde hair?”
“That’s extraordinary,” said Anne. “How did you know that?”
“He’s already arrived?” said Marnie.
The guard’s expression was deadpan. “He’s standing behind you.”
Marnie and Anne whirled round to see Donovan straddling a black mountain bike, smiling, removing wrap-round sunglasses. He wore a black T-shirt, dark grey cargo pants and black trainers. Over his shoulder was slung a small black rucksack.
“Sorry to cut it fine,” he said. “Heavy traffic.”
*
Marnie knocked on the door marked STAFF ONLY and they went in. The hut was empty. She checked her watch: five to eleven. Leaving Anne and Donovan in the hut, she jogged back to the entrance to ask the security guard if he knew anything about the site meeting. He recalled that several people had arrived, including the architects, about half an hour earlier. They had met some of the other ‘suits’ and were somewhere within the compound, he knew not where.
Back in the hut, Marnie related the conversation.
“Where was your other meeting held?” Donovan asked.
“Over the river in the big hotel. I’m sure this is the right place.” Marnie looked concerned. “Something’s happened.”
Anne looked anxious. “What d’you mean?”
“Just that maybe something unexpected has come up.”
Donovan stood and opened the door to look out. Contractors were moving purposefully about the site, operating diggers and dumpers, carrying equipment. There were no ‘suits’ anywhere to be seen. Murmuring that he would be back soon, Donovan slipped outside, leaving the door to close behind him. He was back within less than a minute.
“Something’s going on,” he announced.
“What is it?” said Marnie.
“Not sure. I only got as far as the big holes in the ground when a guy came up and said I should be wearing protective clothing.”
Anne got up and opened a grey metal cupboard. She handed Donovan a pack containing a high visibility jacket, and took a hard hat from the top shelf. Suitably equipped, Donovan went back out and this time was gone for several minutes.
“Do you think we should go with him?” Anne said.
“Not if the others are coming here. He’ll keep us posted if anything’s going on.”
When Donovan returned he looked puzzled.
“You know those big holes … the deep ones? There are lots of voices coming up from below, but I can’t see anyone down there. Are there any women on site?”
“There’s a female archaeologist,” said Marnie. “Why d’you ask?”
“Whoever she is, she’s got a lot to say for herself, and something’s rattled her cage. She’s spouting off at quite a rate. I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end.”
“Doesn’t sound very professional.” Marnie looked at her watch again. “Nor is it very professional for no-one to have shown up for the meeting. It’s nearly ten past.”
“You were right, Marnie,” said Anne. “Something has happened. I bet it’s to do with those bones in the mud.”
“Bones?” said Donovan.
Marnie was about to explain when they heard voices outside the hut. Seconds later the door was pulled open and Philip Everett entered, followed by Nigel Beardsley.
“So sorry to keep you waiting, Marnie.” Philip smiled at Anne and offered a hand to Donovan.
“Something’s come up?” said Marnie.
Philip nodded. Before he could speak, the door opened behind him and Zoë Tipton burst in. She was breathless as if she had been running. Right behind her was Dr Fennimore and two men, the site agent and the clerk of works. Bringing up the rear was Dick Blackwood, his expression hovering between bewilderment and annoyance.
Philip suggested they start the meeting. There were two round tables in the hut, which they pulled together. Each person grabbed the nearest chair, and there was a general rustling of notebooks. Philip welcomed everyone, pointing out that they all knew each other with one exception and invited Donovan to introduce himself.
“Good morning. My name is Donovan Smith and I’m here with Walker and Co. It has yet to be established if I have any role to play, so I suppose this morning is a watching brief.”
“Would you like to add anything, Marnie?” Philip said.
“I had hoped to have a word with you before the meeting got underway, Philip. The fact is that Donovan is working on a university project, which he’ll be able to explain much better than I can. If there are no objections, we’d like him to keep a record on video of how the building works progress.”
“Any comments?” said Philip. One finger was raised. “Yes, Dr Fennimore?”
“Would that include the archaeological aspects of the work?”
Philip glanced at Marnie who in turn nodded at Donovan to reply.
“Certainly, unless you objected. I would say, though, that I couldn’t guarantee to film every aspect of the excavation. I wouldn’t be here full-time.”
“Any objection, Dr Fennimore?” said Philip.
“It would have to be cleared with my head of department, but I think it could be useful to have a visual record of progress. I would say this, however: any filming must be kept strictly confidential. There must be no leaking of material to the outside media. Is that clear? Are these proceedings being minuted?”
Philip indicated Nigel Beardsley who was taking notes beside him. “Your points have been noted, Dr Fennimore. Donovan, would you like to add anything before we move on to the agenda?”
“Just one or two points. Any material gathered by me would be primarily for the purposes of my project. Nothing would be passed to any third party. I can guarantee that. I’m sure the archaeologists would be welcome to have a copy of my video material for their records. I’ll just have to get that cleared with my tutor. I don’t see a problem.”
Dr Fennimore nodded his approval and looked at his two colleagues. Dick Blackwood smiled and gave a brief nod at Donovan. Zoë
Tipton stared at Donovan and declared she would be happy to co-operate. Philip announced that it was time to tackle the agenda.
“Sorry, Philip,” Marnie interjected. “We don’t actually have copies of the agenda.”
“That’s because there isn’t one, strictly speaking, at least not on paper. The meeting has been called to discuss one item only. Over to you, Dr Fennimore.”
The academic cleared his throat. “We believe we’ve made a find of some significance. Late on Friday afternoon Mr Blackwood discovered some remains which he believed to be human.”
Zoë Tipton interrupted. “I’m sorry, Miles, but as the meeting is being minuted I want it made clear that I was the one who found the remains.”
“And identified them as probably animal bones,” Dick interjected rapidly before Fennimore could reply.
Fennimore raised both hands as if in surrender. “Please … please.” He looked at Philip and began speaking very slowly. “Perhaps it could be noted that both joint site directors came upon remains which at the time were not identifiable with any certainty.” He paused. No-one spoke. Nigel Beardsley scribbled rapidly. Fennimore turned to Dick Blackwood and nodded.
Dick continued. “It was very murky down there and we didn’t have much to go on, but I suspected the bones might be human rather than animal and I returned to the site to examine them further at low tide on Sunday morning. There was no other time when I could view them properly that day.”
Marnie raised a finger, and Philip gave her the go-ahead.
“As I understand it, the lower level is to be enclosed to protect the site from tidal erosion and preserve it as a kind of museum. Will that be taking place soon? I’m thinking that these bones could be seriously damaged now they’re exposed to tidal water.”
Philip replied. “Screens are going to be installed to seal off the area completely, but only temporarily. We’re gradually going to incorporate the lower levels into the overall scheme in a way that I believe has never been done before.”
“Such procedures have in fact been carried out previously,” said Zoë Tipton. “Some are to be found here in the City of London.”
Philip agreed. “Yes, but in this case there’s one significant difference. Here, the river tides will ebb and flow around the lower level and the water will be seen through glazed screens. The idea is that whatever we find should remain visible as a kind of living exhibit.”
“The bones need immediate protection,” Dick said. “In their present situation they’re highly vulnerable.”
“But they are not the object of the exercise.” Zoë Tipton spoke rapidly, her eyes blazing. “They’re almost an irrelevance. We have to –”
Philip stopped her in her tracks. “Dr Tipton … Zoë … please. It’s quite clear what has to be done at this stage. Dr Fennimore, will you explain, please.”
Fennimore smiled indulgently. “Both my young site director colleagues feel passionately about their subjects. Please forgive their exuberance. It’s not a weakness. It’s their great strength. I ought to remind everyone that planning permission on this site stipulates that the archaeology must be respected, and every step must be taken to preserve and protect it. May I summarise the background of the scheme, Philip?”
“Please do. We all need to be travelling on the same bus.”
Fennimore looked at each person present. “London as a settlement began not far from here, on the other side of the river. Where this site now stands used to be a series of islands. By the time the Romans established themselves here, there was probably a ferry crossing nearby. As time passed, land on this side of the river became assimilated into Londinium. It’s not clear exactly what was located here back then, but we do know that the town continued to grow after the Romans left during the fifth century.”
“An Anglo-Saxon settlement,” said Dick. “And we’ve come upon it.”
“And it’s absolutely definite that these remains couldn’t be Roman?” Philip asked.
“Not at this depth,” said Fennimore.
“We have to go deeper,” Tipton said. “One set of bones shouldn’t interfere with our excavations. It’s imperative –”
Philip held up a hand as if to stop traffic. “I think we know your views on that subject, Zoë. The point is, we’re bound to deal with these remains before we can do anything else. We have no alternative. It’s both a legal and a planning requirement.”
Zoë Tipton made a sound somewhere between a snort and sigh. In the few seconds of embarrassed silence that followed, Donovan intervened.
“Can I ask a practical question?”
“Certainly,” said Philip.
“These remains … the bones … are they exposed at present?”
Fennimore looked at his watch. “Slack water is coming to an end any time now. The tide will begin turning, and they’ll be covered soon.”
“Would it be possible for me to get a sight of them and maybe some initial footage?” Donovan asked.
Dick got to his feet, staring at Philip like a gun dog waiting for instructions.
“I suppose so,” said Philip.
Dick had the door open in a flash, as Donovan grabbed his rucksack from the floor and followed him out.
*
The sun was warm on their backs as Dick and Donovan descended the first ladder. At the bottom they climbed down the second ladder and reached its base where the air was noticeably cooler and the light more subdued. Dick produced a torch from his belt and led the way.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t be dragging you away from the meeting if it concerns archaeology,” said Donovan.
“Nah.” Dick was dismissive. “I’m fed up with endless bloody meetings. They’ll only be going over the same old ground.”
“Then why meet?” said Donovan. “What’s the point?”
Dick pointed the beam of the torch at the muddy ground before them.
“There’s your answer. Those bones have stirred things up. We’re trying to dig down to Roman times, but with archaeology you never know what might turn up.”
Donovan reached into the rucksack and withdrew a compact video camera.
“I’m still not sure you’ve answered my question,” he said.
“Miles Fennimore wants to stress that archaeology at every stage has to be protected. That includes non-Roman finds.”
“Why is your Zoë chum so upset about that?” Donovan asked. “It’s all archaeology, after all.”
“She’s Roman … I mean that’s her subject. She doesn’t want anything to distract us from that.”
“But it can only be a temporary blip if you’re excavating further, surely.”
Dick shrugged and watched Donovan circling the bones, checking the angles with the camera.
“Like I said, with archaeology anything can happen. We could, for example, come upon a major Anglo-Saxon settlement. That might prove that London expanded and grew here, where significant traces have never been found before. That would change our whole perspective.”
“Isn’t that rather unlikely?” Donovan asked.
“Very. So if we did find something like that, it would seriously rock Zoë’s world.”
Donovan chuckled and aimed the camera at the ground. A faint humming sound was heard as he began filming in short bursts of about ten seconds each. Dick held the torch steady on the remains while Donovan shifted position, squatting to shoot wide-angles and close-ups from every side.
Between shots, Dick said, “Is the torch helping? Just tell me if you want me to alter its position.” He lowered his voice. “Sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t be talking.”
“No, you’re fine,” said Donovan. “The light’s okay for now.” He stood up. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to film you up at street level, talking to camera, explaining what’s going on here, how the bones were found, what you think they might be and …” Donovan looked him straight in the eye. “… anything else you think we ought to know about.”
Dick gave Donovan a sharp look. “What
d’you mean?”
Donovan returned his gaze. “I think you know what I mean, Dick.”
A roguish smile crept across Dick Blackwood’s face.
*
When they returned to the surface, Dick insisted he was perfectly ready to be filmed there and then, explaining what had been discovered so far. Most people have no idea how difficult it is to appear relaxed when confronted by the unforgiving stare of the camera lens, but Dick proved to be a natural.
He paced himself well, describing the project, how it would be, literally and metaphorically, ground-breaking, how he had almost literally stumbled upon an articulated human skeleton in the mud several metres below the ground. To his credit, he related that it was his colleague, Dr Zoë Tipton on secondment from the Institute of Archaeology at Cambridge University, who had first noticed the remains. He explained how they had ‘first been thought’ – no mention of by whom – possibly to be animal bones, but how they had preyed on his mind so much that he had returned over the weekend and identified their true nature.
Donovan was delighted to have found Dick, regarding him as a great asset. His delivery was cool and underpinned by detailed knowledge, yet his enthusiasm shone through. Donovan placed him at the top of the upper ladder, speaking from the heart of the excavation. He stood him beside the dig, pointing down into the ground and had him pacing the periphery of the site with the Thames, Tower Bridge and the Tower of London as impressive historic backdrops.
The footage shot below ground would be edited in later to illustrate what had been discovered. Donovan was convinced he could produce an interesting documentary, but also tell a story filled with drama. The human remains had not seen the light of day for well over a thousand years.
Donovan declared that he had enough footage for the first shoot. As they wandered back towards the meeting room, the site agent and clerk of works came out of the hut followed by Zoë Tipton. She paused on the threshold and veered towards Donovan.