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

isn’t funny! We could get thrown off the site, lose the TV show even. Permanently. Your mother has a perfect right to sue us. She could have you arrested if she took it into her head!’

‘And bring shame on the family? Hardly.’ Sophie sounded defiant, but the smile dropped from her face as fast.

‘Have you any idea how serious this is?’ Shaun felt like he was admonishing a child. ‘Why did you do it?’

Shrugging, Sophie held her trowel up as if it explained everything. ‘For this.’

‘A trowel?’

‘For archaeology. Don’t you want to know if that’s the lost church of St Guron under there?’

‘Of course I do, but—’

‘It was built in 1010 you know, in honour of St Guron himself. He is said to be the original founder of Bodmin itself in 510 AD, and—’

‘Sophie!’ Shaun reined in his fading patience. ‘It makes no difference how important this site is. If we are digging it with falsified documents, then we are liable for health and safety, insurance; not to mention the damage your mother could do to Landscape Treasures’ reputation if she reports us to the broadcasting authorities.’

‘I told you, she won’t. Mother doesn’t do anything that reflects badly on the family name, and Father just does what he’s told.’

‘And how does that change the legal situation exactly?’ Shaun waved a hand towards the other diggers. ‘We have spent a fortune on JCB hire, geophysics, accommodation for everyone, and everything else that comes with a show like this. We have a schedule to keep.’ Shaun could hear the words coming out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure if what he was saying was true or not, but kept talking anyway. ‘This isn’t about one dig. It’s a series and we are committed to it. What you’ve done could ruin all of it. The previous episodes we’ve filmed will count for nothing if your mother sues for criminal damage, unauthorised excavation and so on. Landscape Treasures could be pulled from the schedule. That would be it for us.’

Fiddling the trowel between her fingers, Sophie mumbled, ‘Sorry.’

Shaun pushed his hands deep into his pockets as he regarded the spoilt child of the manor. ‘Why really, Sophie? I don’t believe you did this just to locate an ancient church. Help me understand how a grown woman could act like a selfish brat.’

Sophie’s head came up so fast, that her chin jutted out just like her mother’s. But for the tears that now dotted her cheeks, the likeness was inescapable.

‘Talk to me, Sophie. If you won’t tell me why you did this, you could at least tell us how you imagine we can stop this snowballing into a bigger disaster.’

‘Archaeology.’ She gestured to the stretch of moor around them. ‘It’s been a passion since I was little. Well – since I started watching Landscape Treasures, so I wasn’t that small. I’m not saying you’re ancient or anything; I was quite old when I started viewing.’

‘Stop digging yourself into the wrong sort of holes.’ A smile curled at the corner of Shaun’s lips despite himself. ‘I don’t see why your love of archaeology is an excuse to con your parents into allowing us to destroy their front lawn.’

‘It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, but it’s not exactly “Lady of the Manor” behaviour is it.’

Having met many titled families during his television career, and knowing that nearly all of them were so delighted to have a site of interest on their lands that they’d got stuck in to the mud like everyone else, Shaun decided not to comment. What Sophie meant was that it wasn’t Lady Hammett’s idea of what a titled woman should do, and therefore it was off limits as a career for her daughter.

‘I’m sorry your parents don’t encourage your passion for the past, Sophie, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.’ Shaun patted her arm sympathetically. ‘All those people over there, they could lose their jobs over this. This isn’t their hobby, it’s their livelihood.’

Sophie’s eyes dipped to the ground. A light flush came to her cheeks. ‘I just wanted to prove I could do it. To show them it was a good thing to do. If we had an important historical site in the garden, I thought perhaps it would convince them how worthwhile archaeology is… and…’

Determined not to let his forgiving nature let Sophie off the hook yet, Shaun asked, ‘So, what are going to do about this?’

‘Me?’

‘You are clearly knowledgeable about this site and passionate about the subject, but being an archaeologist isn’t just digging trenches and finding things. It means being able to deal with difficult landowners and coping with paperwork. Then there’s sorting the things that go wrong. JCBs that break down, or don’t turn up on the right day. Archaeologists who hurt themselves, artefacts that can’t be taken out of the ground without specialist equipment, records to keep and reports to write. The list goes on and on.’

‘I know I’ve been…’

‘Been what, Sophie?’

‘Studying for an archaeology degree by distance learning. They—’ she tipped her head towards Guron House ‘—have no idea. All I need is practical experience, so I thought…

‘You’d use us to get it?’

‘Well, umm. Yes.’

*

Thea gripped the print-out of the geophysics survey Ajay and Andy had done of the Roman fortlet in one hand, and a clipboard in the other. The pockets of her combat trousers were stuffed with string, tent pegs, an industrial tape measure, small finds bags, pens, labels and her mobile phone.

When she’d left university to work at the Roman Baths, although she’d loved her job, it wasn’t the same as being a hands-on archaeologist, with the constant thrill of potential discovery. Stood now, examining the rough rectangle of ground before her, Thea was conscious of the race of her pulse. She’d forgotten how much she loved this.

Dismissing the voice at the back of her head telling her it would be more fun if Shaun were there, Thea hooked a ball of string and a tent peg out