by Mike Crowson
* * *
"Right, we'll dig from here," said Alicia, "I think we can go down to about three feet up to this point without treating it as part of the dig proper. From here," and she made a sweeping movement of her hands, "I'd like to sift each bucketful of sand with a view to seeing whether there is anything worth keeping and recording."
The tussocky ground was not conducive to easy digging. In fact Gill's shovel, sharp though it was, would barely cut through the roots of the grass. And even when the grass itself was taken out and laid to one side, the soil was sandy and a steep sided trench difficult to make. The soil kept slipping back into the trench. "Throw it further!" said Alicia, a trifle unsympathetically, when Gill mentioned it to her.
The new trench hit the existing one at right angles. Ali had them continue it to form a 'T' shape and extend the old trench as well. She was pleased with the single day's digging, but insisted they didn't rush. Manjit's back felt as if it was breaking. She sifted out several pebbles, a fish bone that might have been a needle, a flake of rust and what Alicia said looked like a bronze arrowhead, also well corroded by time. But the most exciting thing of all was the wall. It was made of the kind of flat stones that could be picked up on the beach. Stones that bore evidence of being smoothed and shaped by the tide as much as by the hand of man. And yet they were fitted together skilfully, so that a shaped dry-stone wall was not only made, but made secure.
"How on earth did it keep from falling down?" Manjy wanted to know. "You'd think it would collapse as soon as anyone blew, like the little pigs' houses when the wolf huffed and puffed." she said, surprising the Scottish diggers who were unused to the idea of someone who looked Indian but thought (and was) British.
"Well," said one of the local men, "if it's anything like Skara Brae they will have piled dirt and sand on the outside to keep it stable."
"That's right," said Alicia authoritatively, "although there are complete buildings above ground that have lasted thousands of years. There's a chapel in the west of Ireland built the same way with dry-stone walling around 800 AD and that one is still completely weatherproof. Admittedly that's a lot later, but there's been no work of any kind done on it."
"Grief!" said Manjy.
Without adding anything to the conversation, Gill nodded. It had been mentioned in one of her textbooks.
"The Pennines are covered in dry-stone walls too." Alicia continued. "I'm not really sure how they did it, but the walls of the buildings slope in. On the other hand, they don't slope all the way in because they used whalebones to help support the roof and, anyway, there must have been an opening for the smoke. All the houses will have had a fireplace in the centre," she continued.
"Sort of central heating?" said Manjy with a grin.
"Sort of," said Alicia, "Now I think we'll stop. The light's still good of course, but the whole team isn't here yet and this is the first day's digging."
"Will you and Jamie have a bite to eat with us, Andy?" Alicia asked one of the local men, almost as an afterthought.
"No, thank you kindly," he replied. "I think we'll be off and come back in the morning."
"As you wish," said Alicia, "I'll be seeing you tomorrow then. If Steve doesn't mind putting the soup on and fetching the camera we'll have some photographs of the day's work alongside the meal. Gill, you go and give him a hand with dinner."
As they strode across the rough grass towards the little cluster of caravans, Gill said, "I'm glad to-day's over. I know it's only the first day, but the first day was always going to be the worst for me. Now that it's over I'm sure I'm OK again"
Steve glanced at her, before remarking casually, "One thing prison taught me was to take each day as it comes."
"I do try," said Gill wistfully, "but it hasn't been easy, putting back together a life and building new relationships. Still, like I said, I do try and you're very easy to get on with."
There was a pause as the penny dropped and Gill considered it. "You've spent some time in prison then?" she asked.
"Yes. Seven months inside after time off for good conduct. My Probation Officer thought it would be a good idea if I kept well away from football and the terraces. That's why I'm here."
"Well you aren't likely to find much football here, I shouldn't think," she said. "You'd probably be well away from trouble on Hoy."
"Hoy is well away from just about everything," Steve observed drily. "Only things you can do here is read books, dig holes in the ground or watch birds."
Gill laughed "According to Manjy, Hoy is a birdwatcher's paradise," she remarked.
"Huh. As far as I'm concerned, bird watchers are just train spotters who don't have a railway line anywhere near," said Steve. "I don't go a bundle on holes in the ground either," he added.
"You don't have to dig them, only see the diggers fed."
Steve only said, "Talking of which, let's get to it - my stomach thinks my throat's been cut."