Willow stopped crying. “Can you fold a hundred and sixty-eight?”
“Not on my own. I’ll show you how. We can do it together.”
Or not, Flick thought as Willow messed up the first fold.
“Am I in the right place for origami lessons?” Beck called from the entrance to the marquee.
“Flick has just saved my life,” Willow said.
She pointed to the first flower she’d made on her own. Flick thought it looked more like a dead frog than a lily and when Willow picked it up it fell apart.
“I can’t do it,” Willow moaned.
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“Can I help?” Beck asked.
“Watch,” Flick said.
He copied each step and moments later, an identical flower sat next to Flick’s.
“Bloody hell.” Willow whistled.
“He’s very good with his hands,” Flick said, pleased to see Beck blush. “Tell you what, Willow. Why don’t we make them and you put them on the tables and while you’re at it, tell those guys that inhaling helium makes you impotent.”
She was off like a shot and back just as fast. Willow kissed Beck and then Flick.
“Thank you so much.”
Once Beck had the hang of it, it became a competition as to who could work the fastest. He licked his top lip when he concentrated. She wished she could do that for him.
“Where did you learn to fold napkins?” he asked.
“In the three months I worked as a waitress. We had competitions for the most beautiful and the most unusual.”
Flick picked up another piece of cloth and folded it back and forth. She put it in front of Beck. “I won with this one.”
He laughed. An unmistakable penis with testicles. “You are so going to hell.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be happy in heaven, much too noisy with all those blessed harps. Being bad is more fun.”
She felt him staring but didn’t look up.
They could hear Willow with the balloon guys. An even higher-pitched voice had joined in. By the time Willow came back, the table in front of Beck and Flick was piled with lilies.
“You guys,” she squeaked. “They’re fabulous.”
“Start putting them on the tables, Miss Mouse,” Flick said. Celia strode in through the opening of the marquee, and Flick could have sworn the light dimmed.
“Felicity!”
“Now what have I done?”
“My flowers.”
Flick winced.
“I asked her to pick them. I’m so sorry, Celia. I didn’t think to check with you. I wanted to see what they looked like on the napkins. Beck and Flick are helping me. Don’t the tables look lovely? You certainly have a good eye for color and design.”
“Oh, thank you, dear. Yes, I knew I was right.”
“This is going to be a wonderful wedding. I’m so lucky. How are things going at the house? Do you need any help?”
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Willow walked Celia out of the tent and returned without her.
“How did you get your lips off her bum?” Flick asked with a smile. Willow giggled.
“Giles is marrying exactly the right woman,” Beck said. “If you can handle Celia, Giles will be a pushover.”
“I’ve learned a lot over the last few months, although I’m still losing more battles than I win,” Willow said. “Thanks for helping. I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you, Flick. I was upset about you and Giles. Jealous. You’re so gorgeous.”
Flick stared at her in shock. “I’m not, I’m gangly and awkward. My arms are so long that if I had more hair I’d be taken for a gorilla. There has never been anything between me and Giles. I’m sorry I kissed him. He was pushing me away when you saw us.” Don’t believe me, Beck. She beamed the thought at his head.
“That’s kind of you Flick, but I know what Giles is like when he’s drunk. I wish you were coming to the wedding.”
“Henry has asked me to look after Gertrude so I’ll be able to see you in your dress, but I have to avoid churches. I’d hate anyone else to be fried by the bolt of lightning God has waiting for me.”
“Glad you told me about that.” Beck grinned. “I’d better not stand too close to Giles either, then.”
“If you like, Willow, I’ll drive you into Ilkley later and we can look for something to put inside the lilies,” Flick said.
Willow beamed.
“I was thinking about condoms,” Flick said, “purple ones to go with the décor.”
Willow shrieked.
Once the lilies were done, Flick left Willow and Beck talking about his speech and went back to her private dig. As she knelt down, she saw a little silver heart glistening in the soil at the bottom of the hole. Flick smiled, slipped it into her pocket and carried on excavating. Something lay just below where she’d found the heart. Flick touched it with her fingers. Not metal or wood. She leaned over and put her head down the hole. It looked like leather.
Beck coughed behind her. “What are you doing?”
“Digging. What are you doing?”
“Supervising.”
“Supervising, my ass.”
“Yes.”
She lifted her head from the hole and turned round to see him grinning.
“I’ve found something,” Flick said. “I don’t want to disturb it. Want to have a look?”
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“I’m sure you can manage on your own.”
“So I should pull it out?”
“Yep.”
“What if it is a bomb this time?”
“It’s okay. I’m sitting far enough away.”
“Very funny.”
Flick took hold and pulled hard. She flew backward in a shower of dirt.
“Holy shit, it’s a body,” she gasped.
Beck dropped to her side. No mistaking what she held in her hand. A bone.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“I think it’s a foot,” Flick said. “Look, this is a strip of leather for a sandal. This must be a toe. A centurion’s toe. A centurion’s leather sandal and toe. A Roman centurion’s leather sandal and toe.”
“Are you stopping there? You’re not going to tell me where he was going and if he was married?”
“I’m not the archaeologist.”
Beck took the bone and piece of leather from her hand and looked at it.
“What do you think? Is it Roman?” Flick felt about to burst with excitement.
“You could have found something.”
“What do you mean could? Of course I’ve found something. Now what?”
“You need to keep going,” Beck said. “Nice and steady. Don’t break anything.”
“Don’t pull off any more toes, you mean. Anyway, that was your fault. You told me to pull.”
“Well, no more pulling.”
“Are you going to help?”
“I’d rather watch. It’s more interesting. By the way, where did you get your trowel?”
“It was my dad’s and now it’s mine,” Flick said. “Look you can see my teeth marks.”
She waved it in his direction and then put her head back in the hole. Flick was hooked. The only thing that could have stopped her now was an offer of sex from Beck, but there were too many people around so she kept digging.
“You chew your tools?” Beck said.
“I chew everything. It’s a nervous habit. Pencils, nails, anything plastic and particularly tools required for archaeological digs. At least I know what belongs to me.”
More bones. Flick lifted them out of the hole, brushed off the dirt with her paintbrush and carefully laid them on the ground.
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Beck made no comment. He opened a bottle of water, leaned back against the pile of boards and watched her.
Flick’s excitement grew by the second. “Why do you think he was buried by the hedge? Do you think he was murdered? I w
ant to find the skull and check for dents.”
“Not sure the hedge would have existed then.” Beck smiled. “Are you sure you got a first-class honors degree in History?”
“Yes,” Flick said. “Why?”
“Nothing.”
“I really need to find the skull.”
“I hope you don’t. Not for a while.”
“Could that be because you’re looking at my underwear?”
“It might be.”
She turned and grinned. “The bones are so small.” Flick looked at the ones she’d laid out on the grass. “Maybe it’s a child. Probably not Roman. Maybe more recent. Victorian. Or even later. Do you think we should call the police?”
“No, I don’t think we need to do that.”
“Look at this bone. It tapers off to practically nothing. The spine?” Flick ran her fingers along it before she stuck her head back down the hole. There was another strip of something. She twisted it free and brought it up into the light. A rusted disc was attached. She rubbed it with her finger and then turned to Beck.
“You knew. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were having fun.”
“So were you, laughing at me thinking I was digging up a Roman and I was digging up Rover.”
“I thought you’d realize when you saw the tail.”
Beck flew backward as Flick launched herself at him. He grabbed her arms and twisted her onto her back. The next moment his lips were on hers and after a momentary struggle she kissed him back harder than he kissed her. The taste of her raced through Beck’s blood and he grew hotter and harder. He’d had an erection ever since he’d seen her bottom sticking up in the air, tantalized by the edge of her black lace panties. Beck ground his hips against hers. He wanted her. Right now. But the sensible part of Beck’s brain became aware that he was probably hurting her and this was hardly the right time and place. He raised himself on his arms.
“You rotten bastard,” she whispered.
“Don’t let my mother hear you say that.” Beck wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
“Could it be a Roman dog?” Flick asked.
“Doubtful.” Beck rolled onto his back.
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“So I dug up the family pet.” Flick sat up. “Now what do I do? Bury it again?”
“What we normally do is carry on with the excavation, put all the remains together and ask whoever owns the land what they’d like us to do with them.”
Flick sighed. “Would you like to find me a box? Make it a big one and you can fit in it, too.”
When Beck came back, Flick had most of her body down the hole exposing more of her black pants. He looked the other way and then thought—what the hell.
“Find anything else?” He wondered how deep she’d managed to bury the heart he’d bought.
“Such as?” Flick tossed out another bone and it hit his foot. Beck laughed. He thought the heart was probably buried under the heap of dirt she’d thrown out. He should have bought something bigger she couldn’t miss, something the size of a plate.
“Oh.” Flick stopped moving.
“Don’t put your finger on anything that resembles a bomb,” Beck said.
“Very funny.”
“What’s the matter?”
Flick pulled herself out of the ground. Her face was smudged with dirt but Beck thought she’d never looked lovelier. Her eyes shone with excitement. She held out her hand. He’d hoped to see the heart, but that wasn’t what lay on her palm. Beck picked up a grubby necklace with a large stone fastened in a clasp.
“It is Roman?” Flick asked.
“What is it with you and the Romans? No it’s not Roman. It’s modern, well, no more than fifty years old. This looks like a diamond.”
“I thought it was glass.”
“My kind of girl.” Beck grinned.
Flick glared.
“Maybe whoever buried the dog, dropped the necklace by accident,” she said. “If I keep digging I might find the owner.”
“You can learn such a lot from Murder She Wrote.”
Flick stuck out her tongue. “Maybe it was buried with the dog to ease his path into the afterlife.”
Beck chuckled. “Now you’re beginning to sound like Janet and John meet the Egyptians.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“No.”
“So should I keep digging or stop?”
“Why did you start?”
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“Just a feeling there was something important here. I don’t like giving up on things.”
Beck’s heart pounded. “Are you always so persistent?”
“When I think it’s worth it.”
She put her hand in her pocket and showed him the silver heart.
“Ah, so you did find it,” he said.
Flick peered at it. “Made in Taiwan.”
“It does not say that,” Beck protested.
Flick laughed. “Thank you. It’s lovely.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Beck pulled her closer. “Not as lovely as you.”
“Even when I’m covered in dirt?”
“Even when you’re covered in dirt.”
* * * * *
Celia’s mouth dropped open when Beck handed her the necklace. The first time he’d seen her speechless. It didn’t last long.
“My God. This belonged to Henry’s grandmother. Where did you find it?”
“I didn’t. Flick did. Henry told her she could dig down by the marquee and she dug it up. Along with a dog. The tag said Maisie.”
“Maisie was her Golden Retriever. The necklace must have fallen in when they buried the dog. Er, tell Felicity thank you. I should give her a reward.” Celia fished in her handbag and handed Beck a ten-pound note.
“Actually, as Flick found a lost item and was working with permission, she’s entitled—”
“She was not working with permission.” Celia’s face hardened. “I told her she was sacked and to leave.”
Beck didn’t bother arguing. Celia could never be reasonable.
“What do you want us to do with the dog?”
“Just bury the thing again.”
Beck walked back to the marquee wishing that he’d spoken to Henry. The law was reasonably clear. Where an item is lost, or stolen and thrown away, and then found by someone who’s been given permission to detect and search in that place, then the finder can keep it. If by any chance, Henry had searched regularly for the necklace, then he retained ownership but Beck suspected that legally it was Flick’s, if morally Henry’s. Since there was no written agreement between Henry and Flick, unlike the one between Henry and the university over the dig, the whole thing could get messy. Beck didn’t think Flick would fight for ownership.
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He found her still working.
“What are you up to, Ms. Mole?”
Flick’s head popped up. “I was wondering what else I was going to find down this hole.”
“Australia?” Beck suggested.
“That can only be a few more feet. Go and get a spade. It will save a fortune in airfares.”
Beck laughed. “I’m going to have to go. I’ve had a summons from Giles.”
“Make sure he brushes his teeth and washes behind his ears.” Flick smiled. “Then tuck him up in bed with a hot drink.”
Beck stared at her.
“What?” she asked.
“I was thinking about tucking you up in bed.”
“You need a cold shower.”
“Come and have one with me,” Beck said.
Flick shook her head. “Giles needs you tonight. You’ll forget him if I come back with you.”
Beck ran a hand over his face and sighed. “You’re right. Here.” He handed her the ten-pound note.
“Paying me in advance?” Flick asked. “I‘m flattered. Only ten quid? I’m insulted.”
&nb
sp; “Celia sent it. A reward for finding the necklace.”
Flick laughed. “I know just what to do with this. I’ll spend it on Henry.”
“What are you going to buy?”
“It’s a surprise.”
* * * * *
“What are we looking for?” Willow asked as they entered the party store.
“We’ll consider anything if they can supply a hundred and sixty-eight,” Flick said. They wandered together down the first aisle.
“Plastic frogs,” Flick suggested. “Grow your own Prince Charming.”
“Miniature water pistols,” countered Willow.
“Wet your own Prince Charming. Keep looking.”
It was Flick who found the little drawstring bags made of silver organza.
“They’re nice but what can we put in them?” Willow asked.
“Let’s go up to the sweet shop on The Grove. They might have chocolate frogs.”
“Give up with the frogs,” Willow said.
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While Willow went to pay for the bags, Flick picked out her present for Henry. Fifteen pounds but she couldn’t resist it.
Willow dithered again in the sweet shop.
“Go for the Jellybeans,” Flick said. “They won’t melt. Everyone likes them and they’re all different.”
“I’m not sure.” Willow wavered like her name.
“You could have peanut butter flavor.”
“I’m going for sugared almonds.”
“You do realize that if anyone tries to eat them they’ll break their teeth,” Flick said.
“I have to go for looks.”
“You shallow bride-to-be. I’ll tell Giles.”
Willow beamed with happiness and Flick wanted to hug her. She hesitated and then threw her arms around her. Willow hugged her back.
“Thanks, Flick. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Yes, I will help you put them in the bags.” Flick sighed. It would stop her thinking about how long it would be before she and Beck could get naked again. 236
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Chapter Thirty-Three
“Hi, sis, great news. Drew and I are coming for lunch tomorrow. His parents are flying us down so I said they’d come too. See you around noon. Bye.”
Flick stared at the phone as if she could make the message disappear. She listened again to check she hadn’t made a mistake. What was the great news? That they were coming for lunch? Flick had intended to stay in bed all day with the best man, now she had to cook.
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