Scaderstone Pit (The Darkeningstone Series Book 3) (6 page)

Bernard offered his hand. “May I help you up?”

“That’s all right.” Cally climbed out of the trench and brushed down her clothes. “The office is this way,” she said, and led the way toward the Portakabin.

Inside the cramped office, Cally sat down on the only chair that wasn’t littered with piles of paper and boxes of artefacts. “Please have a seat,” she said. “If you can find one.”

Bernard gave her a wry smile. “Thank you, Doctor Freeman, but that won’t be necessary.” His assistant grunted his disapproval then leaned back against the Portakabin’s wall, his arms folded.

“So what can I do for you?” Cally asked.

“Forgive me, but you sound a little resentful.”

Cally opened her mouth to protest, but Bernard held up his hand to stop her. “Let me assure you, Doctor Freeman, we are not here to curtail your work, simply to check that the integrity of the site is maintained at all times.”

Cally raised her chin. “Let me assure
you
, Bernard, that I personally oversee all the work we carry out here, and I insist that everything is done to the highest possible standards.”

Bernard gave her a smug smile and made a show of casting his eye around the chaotic office. “So I see.”

His assistant chuckled and muttered something under his breath that Cally couldn’t quite catch.

Cally glared at him. “Qu’est-ce que vous avez dit?”

The man returned her stare but kept his lips tightly closed.

Cally turned on Bernard. “What did he just say? Tell him to have the decency to speak to my face. His English may not be up to much but I speak fluent French, and I won’t have anyone sniping from the sidelines and casting aspersions on my work.”

Bernard gave his assistant a meaningful look then tilted his head toward the door. The man acknowledged his instructions with a tiny nod then made his way out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Bernard watched him go then, apparently satisfied, he gave Cally a tired smile. “I’m sorry if Giles appears rude. He is a good man, but he suffers from what you might call patriotic jealousy.”

Cally raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes. You would not guess it to look at him, but he has long held a special interest for the ancient sites of France. And he does not like all this…disruption.” He waved his hand in the direction of the site.

“Because we’re not French, is that it?”

Bernard shrugged. “Perhaps so. We have had a great deal of trouble with treasure hunters and amateur collectors. They come looking for Roman coins and cause a great deal of damage. Many of them, I’m sad to say, come from England.”

Cally bristled. “You can’t seriously think that we’re operating at that level. Everyone here is highly qualified and very experienced. We know what we’re doing and we take every care to protect the site.”

“That may be so,” Bernard said, “but many people might view your work as interference. This site has been left undisturbed for a long time. It is specially protected.”

Cally frowned. “But we have all the necessary permissions. The producer wanted us to be very careful with the paperwork. And I checked everything myself—it’s all in order.”

Bernard nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps, but you cannot blame us for our concern. After all, you are outsiders. Imagine if a French team were sent to investigate Stonehenge. You perhaps might feel a little protective yourself, yes?”

“Nonsense,” Cally said. “You must know that international collaboration is very common. I’ve worked with people from all over the world.”

“Including Professor Leyland, and Doctor Seaton—one discredited, the other disgraced.”

Cally felt her blood rush to her cheeks. “What? How did you—”

But Bernard did not let her finish. “As I say, I am very aware of your reputation. And as you can tell, I have been diligent in my research.”

Cally stood up, pulling herself up to her full height. “What do you want?” She demanded. “If you have a problem with me, why don’t you just come out and say it? Because I don’t have time for this. We have a schedule here, and a programme to produce.”

Bernard opened his mouth to speak but Cally held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve come up against your sort before,” she said, and she took a step toward him. “But you don’t frighten me. The people I work for will not be happy if you interfere with our work, and they have a large legal team.”

The smug smile finally fell from Bernard’s face, and when he spoke, his voice was edged with barely restrained anger. “And the people I work for, are official representatives of the government of France. With one word from me, you and all your friends will be on the next flight home.”

Cally hesitated. Bernard clearly meant what he was saying, but would he really follow through with his threat? This project had taken months to plan and a lot of that time had been taken up by endless negotiations with the French authorities. If all that fell apart because she couldn’t keep her temper, it would be the end of her career. She looked down at the floor from moment, and when she looked back up, Bernard’s smug grin had returned. “All right,” she said. “Perhaps you’d better just explain what you want. And then we’ll see what we can do.”

Bernard nodded. “It’s very simple. Giles will stay here. He will oversee everything that you do.”

“What? Are you serious? I can’t have him second-guessing my decisions.”

“You misunderstand,” Bernard said. “Giles will not interfere with your work. He will simply maintain an official presence at the site. Whenever you and your colleagues are at the site, Giles will be here. Is that clear?”

Cally exhaled loudly. “It doesn’t sound like I have much choice in the matter.”

Bernard smiled. “Not if you wish to continue your work.”

“All right, he can stay. But only on the condition that he does not interfere in any way.”

“Of course,” Bernard said. “Now, I’m afraid that I must depart. Perhaps you would be good enough to explain the situation to your colleagues.”

Cally groaned inwardly. Simon would not like this at all. But at least the news might be better coming from her. If it was left to Bernard, she dreaded to think what trouble he might stir up. “All right, I’ll tell the producer. Leave it with me.”

“Very good,” Bernard said. He headed for the door then hesitated on the threshold. “And, Doctor Freeman, please remember that Giles reports directly to me. If there is anything untoward, I will know about it.”

“You’ve made your point,” Cally said. “I think you’d better leave. Goodbye, Monsieur Azoulay.”

Bernard let out a little chuckle. “Au revoir, Doctor Freeman. Perhaps I will see you again.” He flashed Cally a shark toothed grin then let himself out, closing the door behind him.

Cally stood still for a moment, staring into space and rehashing Bernard’s words in her mind.
I can’t believe he dragged up Seaton and Leyland
, she thought.
What do I have to do to put the past behind me? When will I ever be free of it?
She shook her head, pushing her bleak thoughts from her mind. She had a first-class honours degree from Exeter and a doctorate from Oxford. She’d worked so hard, and she’d come so far; she couldn’t let a petty-minded little bureaucrat like Bernard stand in her way. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t let that happen.”

She took a breath then headed for the small counter in the corner of the office where the crew kept a kettle and the teabags.
A quick drink
, she thought,
and then I’ll get back to work
. She busied herself at the counter, pouring water from a large plastic bottle into the kettle and switching it on. Then she bent down and rummaged through the cupboard under the counter, searching for a mug that wasn’t too stained. When she heard the door open behind her, she didn’t turn around, she said, “I’m just making some tea, Simon, do you want one?”

But when the person behind her spoke, she stood up and wheeled around, her hand clasped to her chest. “Bloody hell!” She hissed. “What are
you
doing here?”

Chapter 8

1919

TREVOR MARLEY LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR
and looked around the office he shared with Duncan and Joe, the other juniors at Grigson’s Chartered Surveyors. He could do better for himself—much better. Already, he’d come so far. Only a few years had passed since he’d left grammar school, but he’d made the most of every day, working hard and studying his craft. He was always waiting outside the office door when Grigson came to open up in the mornings, and he was always the last of the juniors to leave at the end of the day.

Trevor watched his colleagues. Duncan was hunched over a ledger, moving his lips as he ran his finger down a column of figures. Joe was scribbling on a pad, frowning in concentration.
They’re just making work for themselves
, he thought.
Putting on a show to fool the old man
. Trevor shook his head. He’d show them up for what they were: a couple of toadying little dogsbodies with never an original thought in their heads.

Not like me
, Trevor thought.
Not like me at all
. He smiled. It was time to get back to work, finalising the proposal for the Matthews contract. He picked up his fountain pen and paused to admire the sheen on its lacquered body. It had a gold nib, the best he could afford. It had cost him a week’s wages, but it was worth every penny. One day, he’d use it to sign contracts for clients of his own. He’d have a teak desk and an office panelled in polished oak. And there on the door, he’d have a brass plate engraved with the words
Mr. T Marley, MRICS, Chartered Surveyor
. But for now, he had to content himself with menial tasks for Grigson, making himself indispensable, while he watched out for a chance to shine, a chance to forge his future.

“One day,” he whispered.

Duncan and Joe looked up from their work, but Trevor made a show of clearing his throat and went back to studying the proposal. And he had every reason to give it his full attention.

Trevor thought of his beloved Iris and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Things were going well on that front. She seemed keen. But there was one thing standing in their way—her father.

Trevor had met Mr. Matthews only once. The great man had looked Trevor up and down and asked him if his father still worked at the dairy. So what if he did? Everyone knew Matthews came from a family of ironmongers. Trevor had been forced to bite his tongue. He’d wanted to say that, while Matthews had been busy making money from the war, his father had been fighting in the trenches. But he hadn’t said a word. He’d just nodded and smiled like an idiot. No wonder the old man had taken him for a fool.

Now, things would be different. This plan to open a quarry at Scaderstone Rock could work in his favour. The project would go ahead; there was no doubt in Trevor’s mind. He was only vaguely familiar with the place, but he could see straight away that the site had massive potential. The location and the timing were just right. And once Matthews put his money and his influence to work, the quarry would soon become a thriving enterprise. Matthews succeeded in everything he did, and this was Trevor’s chance to get in on the ground floor.

Grigson had made him responsible for the day-to-day management of the initial survey. It was to be Trevor’s first major project and it was an excellent opportunity: a chance to show himself in a good light, to impress Mr. Matthews with his diligence and drive.

Trevor checked his watch. It was coming up to 4:30. He stared at Duncan and Joe.
Go on
, he thought.
Go home and leave me in peace
. But both men were hunched over their desks, faces fixed in intense concentration. What were they playing at? Were they hoping to get noticed? Did they plan to outdo him at his own game? Trevor drummed his fingertips quietly on his desk. He’d more or less finished the paperwork and he was ready to move on. He needed something to happen. He needed some action. But the working day was almost over. What could he do?

And that was when he had the idea.

In the morning, he was scheduled to meet with Grigson and Matthews at Scaderstone Rock. It was a simple preliminary site meeting to discuss the overall extent of the survey. But it occurred to Trevor that, with only a slight detour from his walk home, he could pop into the site and have a look around—get a feel for the place. To be forewarned is to be forearmed. He tidied his desk, enjoying the way Duncan and Joe were watching his every move.

He flashed them a warm smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Everything all right?” Duncan asked.

“Couldn’t be better,” Trevor said. He didn’t need to explain himself to the likes of Duncan and Joe. He wasn’t even going to tell Grigson why he was leaving a few minutes early. He’d keep his visit to the site as a surprise until the meeting. That way, he could casually slip one or two little facts into the conversation—just enough to let it be known he’d done his homework. And with that happy prospect ahead of him, Trevor gave his colleagues a cheery wave, and swept out of the office.

In no time at all, he’d be at the site. Yes, it would be pretty dark by the time he got there, but so what?
The dark doesn’t bother me
, he thought.
Not in the least.