Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane (the little red hen ebook .txt) 📗

‘Okay, we do. But I couldn’t see why they were so desperate to get the filming rights.’

Tina’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve lost me.’

‘If you were part of the team that ran the country’s second favourite archaeology television show, wouldn’t you want to poach a site from under the nose of your main competitor? TV is a cutthroat business after all.’

‘You mean they could gloat about Shaun opening the house, but not getting the filming deal?’

‘Exactly. Wouldn’t do Landscape Treasures’ credibility any good would it.’ Thea pulled out her mobile. ‘I ought to check with Shaun that he is on schedule.’

Tina twirled a pigtail through her fingers. ‘It doesn’t explain how Treasure Hunters knew about the excavation though. Unless that was from the summer’s Open Day adverts too. The publicity was good locally, but not nationally.’

Helen grimaced. ‘I take it you’ve been making discreet enquiries about the site to the various official bodies?’

‘Yes, of course, I had to for legal reasons.’ Thea nodded. ‘Health and safety and stuff; but that’s all supposed to be confidential.’

‘It should be, but people talk. The rumour must have leaked out.’ Helen knelt to help Thea roll the thick layers of tarpaulin back over the fortlet. ‘Why is it a problem? Surely any television coverage would be good for Mill Grange?’

‘It would.’ Tina suddenly wished Sam was there and not walking with his friends. ‘But Shaun is one of Sam’s best friends, and he asked to film with Landscape Treasures first.’

‘Ah, let me guess.’ Helen’s smile faded as she understood the situation. ‘The manor costs an arm and a leg to keep, the retreat you’re opening here needs funding and Landscape Treasures were doing the show as a favour with not much money involved, but the other show is offering serious cash. Sooner or later Sam will need to choose between his friend and his livelihood.’

‘Got it in one.’

Fourteen

September 8th

It was just three trowels and a tape measure, but that wasn’t the point. Shaun knew they’d been there when they closed the site the evening before. He’d put them in the porta-shed himself. He was also pretty certain he’d seen them when he followed Ajay into the shed that morning to collect some find trays, on the off-chance they found something other than walls.

At some point between the management team’s early morning meeting (about where to dig that day), and the archaeology team’s arrival at Guron House ready to work, they’d evaporated into thin air.

Saying nothing for the time being, keen to crack on, Shaun found himself occasionally floating back to the porta-shed that accompanied them from series to series. In the past they’d had occasion to employ a security team to watch over the site, but Lady Hammett had insisted that she didn’t want such people lingering on her property all night, and that once the gates to the grounds were closed, no one could get in anyway.

If they have been taken, then someone here has them.

It was not a palatable idea. Shaun had worked with everyone on the regular team for months, years in some cases. Nothing had ever gone missing before. If there was a thief, it had to have been one of the locals from the Cornish Heritage Trust, who were providing extra dig hands.

Deciding he was being fanciful, and that they’d probably simply been put away in the wrong place, Shaun headed to the church site.

‘Hi, everyone, just a quick word. A few trowels and a measure are missing from the shed. I suspect they’ve just been put down somewhere and forgotten about, or rehomed in the wrong place. Can you double-check everything goes away properly at the end of today?’ He raised his hand in a friendly wave.

As the archaeologists went back to work, Phil came up behind him. ‘You want to tell me what all that was about?’

‘A few things are missing from the shed.’

‘Not signed out you mean?’

‘It’s a minor thing, but as Lady Hammett is dead set against us having a security team here, then I thought I’d better say something.’

‘Fair enough.’ Phil nodded towards the dig. ‘Shall we do the introduction piece to camera while the weather is good, and everyone is cracking on?’

‘Good plan.’ Following the producer to where the cameramen were setting up, Shaun pulled his script from his folder and gave it a quick once-over, before standing where he was told, with the site behind him. After a quick prompt to the archaeology team to stop talking while they filmed, Shaun felt the buzz of adrenalin he always experienced when the cameras rolled prickle against his skin. Keeping Phil in view out of the corner of his eye, Shaun focused on the camera, waiting for the red light to turn green; his cue to project his voice towards it.

‘Welcome to another episode of Landscape Treasures. This time we are in the ancient land of Kernow, known to us today as Cornwall, and this—’ he raised his hands to encompass his surroundings ‘—is the Guron Estate on the historic Bodmin Moor.’

Dropping his hands again, he looked across at Phil who gave him the thumbs up, and Shaun’s shoulders relaxed.

‘I’ll quickly listen back to that, but it sounded good from here.’ Phil and the sound man huddled around a screen, headphones in place, while Shaun checked out the rest of the script.

Hoping he could get this longer piece done in one take, Shaun mumbled over the details.

‘The site you see before you is a pre-Norman church, lost beneath the grounds of Guron House’s gardens for at least seven hundred years. The question we’d like to answer during this episode of Landscape Treasures is, are we looking at a rare example of late Saxon Christianity – which would be exciting in its own right – or are we about to uncover the lost church of St Guron himself, the founder of Bodmin?’

Shaun paused, and then, closing his eyes, repeated the words to himself under his breath.

‘Okay, Shaun; voiceover