‘Enough sympathy to swap with me? I go out and look at the treasure and you talk to the kids of St Mark’s about the Romans in Britain?’
‘Not bloody likely,’ she said with a grin. She glanced at her watch. ‘If I go now I can be there by lunchtime.’
Duncan swivelled around in his chair to watch as she headed out the door. ‘Bring me a cake back,’ he called.
‘I’ll bring you two!’
* * *
An hour later (including rather a lot of frustrating time spent lost), Cesca pulled up outside the Silver Hill Tearoom. Yanking the handbrake on, she took a moment to assess the situation. The farmhouse itself looked old, though lovingly refurbished. Clematis garlanded the front door and beyond that was a wildflower garden dappled with poppies and cornflowers. To the side stood a Victorian-style glass garden room, filled with white lacquered tables and chairs to make up the tearoom. Her gaze slid across the building and settled on what was quite a crowd of chattering locals. Cesca gave a wry smile; it constantly amazed her how news travelled in these parts, and how a discovery always turned into a social event.
As she climbed out of her car and walked towards the entrance, an old lady turned to her.
‘The local paper, I’ll bet!’ she cried, waddling over and looking quite excited about the possibility. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to get here.’
‘Are you the owner of the farm?’
‘Oh no!’ the woman chuckled. She stuck her hand out. ‘Mrs Seacock. Church warden. Will you need to interview me?’
‘Not just now,’ Cesca replied with a courteous smile. ‘Do you know the owner of the farm?’
The old lady gave an enthusiastic nod. ‘I’ll say… that’s Harper you’re after.’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, she’s lovely is Harper. She helps at the church soup kitchen from time to time. Mind you, it’s probably so everyone in the village would stop complaining about her wanting to build holiday homes, but still, help is help and you can’t turn it down where it’s offered…’
‘Right… So is she inside?’
‘Oh yes. All this attention has made them very busy today. Folks get thirsty standing around all day in the sun.’
Cesca wondered how the farm owners felt about the attention. It was all very well having the extra business, but if the find was anything like as impressive as she’d been led to believe, they had some serious security issues on their hands.
* * *
The old lady hadn’t been kidding when she said the tearoom was busy; there was barely a chair left unoccupied. A woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties, striking with her spiked red hair and ice-blue eyes, hurried between the tables taking orders and depositing snacks while another woman – shorter, curvier, with cinnamon hair pinned in a messy bun – tended to a beast of a coffee machine behind the counter. Cesca breathed in and allowed the warmth of sweet spices and syrups mingled with the brisk bitterness of strong coffee to bewitch her senses. Along half the length of the counter ran a glass case displaying pastel-coloured cakes and glistening savouries that made her stomach ache with longing. She would have to remember to take something back for Duncan. If they tasted as good as they looked he would be her friend for life.
She made her way to the counter where the woman she suspected to be Harper was busily serving customers. When she turned Cesca could see that she looked perhaps thirty, maybe a little more, messy tendrils of hair escaping her clip and framing a heart-shaped face, her chocolate eyes full of humour. Cesca immediately liked her.
‘Hello! What can I get you?’
‘I haven’t come to get a coffee, I’m afraid, although everything does look very nice…’
‘Oh. Well I’d love to talk to you about it all but I’m rushed off my feet right now,’ the woman replied apologetically. ‘If you come back after closing time I’d be happy to tell you all about it with the other two reporters I just sent away.’
Cesca smiled. ‘Oh dear… it’s been that sort of a day, has it? Are you Harper?’
‘Yes, but—’
Cesca stuck out her hand. ‘I’m Francesca Logan – Finds Liaison Officer, based at Salisbury museum. I’ve come to have a look at the items you found.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry…’ Harper blushed furiously as she wiped her hands on her apron and shook Cesca’s. ‘I had no idea you were coming and I’ve had no end of people I’ve never seen before coming in and asking. We tried to keep things quiet, so I’ve no idea how all these people have found out. Although my fiancé did go to the pub last night…’ she added thoughtfully. She gave Cesca a brisk smile. ‘I’ve hardly had a wink of sleep since we found it yesterday and we just didn’t know what to do with it.’
‘That’s OK. I came out as soon as I was told about it. Hopefully I’ll be able to help you out there.’
Harper nodded gratefully.
‘I expect you’ll want to see my ID,’ Cesca continued, pulling a card from her purse and handing it to Harper, who gave it a quick once-over before handing it back.
‘I must admit, it’s making me nervous,’ Harper said. ‘Will you take it away with you?’
‘It’s just the one box you reported?’
‘We had another look and we didn’t see anything else buried on the site but I suppose we could have missed it.’
‘I expect we can have a look ourselves if needs be,’ Cesca said cheerfully. ‘I’ll have a look to ascertain exactly what we’re dealing with and I’d like to ask you some questions too. If it’s something of value then I’ll make a call to the coroner’s office and they’ll take it from there.’
‘What do we need to do then?’
‘There are lots of processes in place for this sort of thing and you can read all about it on the Government’s antiquities website. But rest assured, if it is declared treasure there will be a reward for the finder.’
‘Oh,’ Harper said, blushing again, ‘I didn’t mean that. Can we tell people about it, or do we have to keep it all a secret? Will we get lots more reporters?’
‘I would imagine that if it is a find of significance there will be publicity. But we can do our best to keep you away from it if you prefer. The problem is that you found the items on your property and it will possibly mean more people coming to dig to see if there’s any more – that in itself will draw attention to you and the farm I’m afraid.’
Harper nodded. ‘I suppose it can’t be helped now,’ she said. Cesca felt a bit sorry for her – she really didn’t seem happy with the situation, despite obviously trying to be cheerful and polite. ‘Can I get you anything, Francesca?’ she added. ‘You’ve come all this way to see us, the least I can do is offer you refreshments… on the house, of course.’
‘Call me Cesca… Francesca is all very well but it can be a mouthful. And a cappuccino would be lovely,’ she added. ‘Your cakes look divine too – do you make them yourself?’
‘Oh God, no!’ Harper laughed. ‘I buy them in from a wonderful little place in a nearby village. Can’t bake to save my life, which is ironic when you consider that I run a tearoom. But I’d never let a small thing like a lack of baking ability stop me from running what is essentially a social club for me.’
‘You enjoy working here then? I imagine it’s long hours.’
‘Love it. And I make a mean cup of tea so that’s half the battle, isn’t it?’
‘Do you get a lot of custom out here?’
‘Oh yes. We have the petting zoo out back – not huge, mainly just rabbits, our pygmy goats and sheep, a couple of frisky chinchillas. But the kids like it and it brings their parents to the tearoom. There’s a caravan park beyond the hills too, then there’s Silver Hill adventure playground… the pottery and arts centre towards Cranbourne… a lot of walking and hiking trails hereabouts so people stop as they pass, Cerne Hay village, of course, near the caravan park… We get a surprising amount of trade actually. We’d get a ton more if Silver Hill House would open to the public, but the owner is very private and doe
sn’t seem keen. It’s a shame; it could be a little goldmine if he did. To be fair though, there’s only enough trade in the summer, which is why we want to expand and open holiday lets. The more we can make in the summer, the more we have to see us through the winter months.’
‘Like a squirrel storing nuts.’
‘You could say that. As long as I don’t forget where they are like squirrels do we’ll be just fine hibernating in front of our fire.’ She grabbed a mug from a shelf behind her. ‘How about I get you that drink?’
‘That does sound great, but I’m supposed to be working. Perhaps first you could show me round to the place where you made your find? I could be working while I drink and then I wouldn’t feel quite so guilty.’
‘Of course.’ Harper smiled. ‘If it’s OK, Shay can take you to the spot. We’re absolutely rushed off our feet here and I don’t want to leave poor Pip on her own.’
‘I imagine this is all a bit stressful for you?’
‘A little. I don’t suppose I can complain about the extra business though.’
‘Try not to worry. You’ve done all the right things and informed all the right people. With a bit of luck, it should be resolved quickly and you can get on with your extension.’ She paused. ‘Shay? That’s your fiancé, I presume?’
‘Yes. He’s poking around in the hole as we speak. I’ll take you round and then I’d better help Pip before she collapses from overwork.’
* * *
Harper led the way to the newly dug foundations at the back of the farmhouse, where a good-looking man in his early thirties with dark hair and some seriously fantastic bone structure was leaning against a wall looking pensive. Hearing Harper’s voice as they approached, he turned to them with a broad smile that lit up his face. Cesca tried to ignore the pang of envy that gnawed at her. Had Paolo ever looked at her like that? She couldn’t remember, but it didn’t seem likely.
‘Shay – this is the lady from the museum – Cesca Logan.’
He offered a hand for Cesca to shake. ‘Thanks for coming over so quickly.’
Cesca gave a brisk smile, and then her attention turned to the site.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Harper said. She looked at Shay. ‘You’ll be able to tell Cesca what she needs to know?’
‘Of course.’
Harper nodded and then left them. Cesca was just about to open her mouth when Shay produced a tangle of cloth from his pocket and opened it out to her to reveal the little box that all this fuss had been about. Her stomach flipped, gripped by a sense of excitement and purpose. Moments like this were the reason she had studied archaeology in the first place. It was time to get to work.
Chapter 4
Harper curled her legs up onto the sofa and laid her head on her arm. ‘That feels like it was the longest, weirdest day of my life.’
‘It was pretty mad,’ Pip agreed as she sat next to her.
It was gone ten, and even though they had to be up early the next day and they were all exhausted, Shay was still cleaning the mess the archaeology volunteers Cesca had called in had inevitably left. Harper had just finished tidying the kitchen, while Pip had been out to the cash and carry for supplies, having had no time during the day because of all the extra interest in the place. They had decided to grab a quick cup of cocoa before heading up to bed.
‘He’s not very happy that they took the box away, is he?’ Pip asked.
‘No,’ Harper said with a slight smile. ‘If he thought he could get away with it, he would have been straight down to Sotheby’s to see what he could get.’
‘More like Cash for Gold,’ Pip said, grinning, and Harper let out a giggle.
‘Probably. A bit of me doesn’t blame him one bit. We really could have done with it, but the way I see it, the jewellery wasn’t ours and what you never had you never miss.’
‘I wonder who it belonged to. There must be one heck of a story there.’
‘I’m sure. We’ll know more soon enough, I suppose. I’ll bet there are clues in local documents somewhere when we know what year we’re looking at.’
‘Do you think we’ll see any of it again?’
‘Cesca seemed quite positive that it would be declared treasure trove and that we’d get a percentage once it had been sorted. She thought the crucifix looked like Tudor workmanship and that it might be pretty valuable from an archaeological point of view. Said she knew at least two museums that would snap our hands off for it if her hunch was right. I have to wonder how she knows so much just from looking at it. The trouble is, confirming things could be a long process. It doesn’t really help us now. Personally, I’m just relieved it’s off our property, because the thought of having to keep it safe for another night was stressing me out.’
‘Imagine how much it might be worth. That cross alone could probably pay for your wedding!’
‘I can’t believe it either. All those money worries I had when we first moved here and were trying to get the business up and running, and the answer was under our feet all along. How crazy is that?’
‘If today is anything to go by, it might bring in a lot of business from curious tourists, so we might get our extra money that way.’
‘Fat lot of good it will do us if we’re worked into the ground and ready for nothing but the hospital.’ Harper gave her a thin smile. ‘If things are going to be that busy we might have to get some help in.’
‘Can we afford that?’
‘Probably not,’ Harper mused. ‘Short term, though, perhaps.’
‘Well, you know I leave the money and sums to you while I just add colour to the place.’ Pip stifled a yawn. ‘So, y’know… whatever you decide is fine by me.’
They were interrupted by Shay, who strode into the room wiping soil from his jeans, his face and hair streaked with more of the same.
‘God!’ Harper squeaked, jumping from her seat. ‘Don’t bring it all in here!’
‘Where else am I supposed to go?’
‘Outside… shoo!’
‘I can’t come in?’
‘When you’ve got those dirty clothes off you can!’
Shay grinned and threw a wink at Pip. ‘She wants me – see how she can’t wait to get me naked.’
‘Out!’ Harper yelled. ‘Now!’
Shay shuffled out again, half laughing but his expression almost reproachful. ‘Bossy boots…’
‘Ugh! There are some things about living with Shay I’ll never get used to,’ Harper said, returning to her seat. ‘One of those is the constant mess that comes with him. Honestly, I think when we’re married we’ll have to keep our separate houses.’
Pip shifted in her seat but said nothing.
‘You know you can stay here,’ Harper said gently. Where Pip was going to live once Harper was married was a subject they’d covered many times. Harper had insisted that there was no reason to change their current living arrangements, and that the addition of Shay into their home would make little difference as he already spent so much time there anyway. But Pip, in a passive-aggressive stance that Harper recognised only too well after years of knowing her, had staunchly insisted that she was moving out of the farmhouse and would find somewhere else to live. Finding somewhere near the farm and within her budget, however, was proving to be somewhat of a challenge. At the moment, her only option appeared to be one of the year-round caravan lets on the nearby holiday site. Not exactly prime real estate, and they both knew how unhappy she’d be living there.
‘Pip…’ Harper prodded her. ‘Come on… say something. I hate it when you go quiet on me.’
‘I’m tired, that’s all.’ Pip’s smile was so obviously forced. She got up from the sofa. ‘I’m going to bed.’
Harper watched her go. Lately Pip seemed to be missing her ex, Esther, more than ever. Not that she’d say it, but you weren’t friends with someone for the best part of ten years without developing an instinctive understanding of these things. She supposed that her engagement to Shay wasn’t helping, because the daily pres
ence of their relationship, and the prospect of having to leave the cottage, would be a constant reminder of a future Pip had once thought she could look forward to. Now she was alone, and Harper desperately wished she could help. But, as Pip herself had said so many times, love didn’t work like that. Pip had to find it, or it had to find her. Whichever way it happened, there was little Harper could do to influence it, no matter how much she wanted to.
Chapter 5
Yanking off a red patent stiletto, Allie hurled it at Greg’s head. It missed and went skittering along the wooden floor.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ she squealed. She waved a hand down herself. ‘I put all this on and you’re not remotely interested? Am I that ugly?’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he said, picking up the shoe and handing it to her. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I just got back from a long business trip and I’m exhausted.’
‘You got back yesterday and you haven’t seen me for seven weeks. Any other man would be horny as hell if he hadn’t seen his wife for seven weeks!’
‘I’ve got a limited time at home and I’ve got a lot to think about before I head back to Germany. It’s not my fault I’m busy. Besides, I don’t let my penis rule my brain like other men.’
‘It’s called love,’ Allie cried. ‘It’s not about your penis or your stupid brain; it’s about finding your wife attractive because you love her. Don’t you love me?’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘And you’re avoiding the question. Do you love me?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
‘I’m not talking about me… Stop twisting this all the time so the blame ends with me! Do you love me?’
‘I’m not going to answer a question like that while you’re being so irrational.’
Allie squealed. ‘Answer me!’
‘I’m not going to get drawn into this argument again.’
The Summer of Secrets: A feel-good romance novel perfect for holiday reading Page 3