‘What’s it worth?’
‘Oh, about half a million.’
‘Jesus. We’re looking for the wrong guy.’
‘You’re a Philistine.’
There were no lights coming from the direction of Davis’s house. ‘This is the one we’re looking for,’ I whispered. ‘It’s St Sebastian.’
‘Could’ve fooled me.’
‘And the fence is about fifty yards that way. I’m presuming they mean five yards in from that.’
‘Makes sense.’ He lowered the metal detector to the ground, placed the headphones over his ears and shone a little torch on the controls.
‘Do you know how it works?’ I asked.
‘They gave me a crash course. It’s set to detect anything metallic, so if I get a buzz in the headphones, you have to dig it up.’
‘OK. Let’s go.’
I paced five yards in from the fence and Sparky wandered away, skimming the head of the machine from side to side, just above the ground.
Nothing.
‘Maybe it doesn’t work,’ I suggested.
‘Well, let’s try it on something.’
I took a coin from my pocket and dropped it on the grass. Sparky found it straight away.
‘Did it make a buzz?’
‘Mmm. Loud and clear.’
‘What’s it like with something bigger?’ I asked, pushing the head of the spade under the business end. He jumped about a foot in the air.
We tried again, in the opposite direction. Nothing. Then we climbed the fence and tried five yards that side of it, in Davis’s paddock. We found two ring pulls from drinks cans, from the days when they came away in your fingers, an old key and a horse shoe.
‘This is fun,’ Sparky confessed. ‘I might convince Daniel that he ought to have one.’
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Have you tired of his train set, and the radio-controlled aeroplane, and the fishing rod and the mountain bikes and the…’
‘OK! I get the message. It’s just that — Charlie! There’s something here! Something big! I think we’ve found it!’
‘Where!’
‘There! It’s nearly blowing my head off.’
He pinpointed the spot and I started digging. I removed a square of turf and waved him to have another go.
‘It’s still down there,’ he said.
The world started to revolve around me, as if seen from a carousel.
‘They’re back!’ Sparky hissed.
I turned as the headlights of the Range Rover swung across the paddock, sweeping the shadows of trees and fence before them.
‘They can’t see us,’ I said.
A security light came on, headlights were extinguished, doors slammed. We sat on our heels until all was dark again. ‘Right, where were we?’ I wondered.
I dug deeper and Sparky checked the hole again. Still there. I widened it and removed several more spadefuls of soil.
‘It’s still down there.’
‘I’m not happy with this division of labour,’ I puffed as I pushed the spade further down. It came to an abrupt stop.
‘I’ve hit something!’ I exclaimed.
And it was metallic, I quickly discovered, as the spade scraped across it. I removed soil with my hands, revealing a square object, exactly the size I imagined we were looking for. The spade down the side and some applied leverage eventually freed it from its hiding-place. I rose to my feet, holding the heavy metal block as if it were a piece of the true cross.
‘Shine the torch on it,’ I suggested.
‘I’ve been trying. It’s duff.’
‘There’s something embossed on the side.’
‘You’d expect that, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yeah, and it’s heavy enough. Bring the stuff, young Jim, lad; we could be in business. Let’s get back to the cars.’
Stuart Pawson
Last Reminder
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The doubts started on the way back. ‘It’s not gold,’ I decided. ‘It’s more like a tin box. You know — a cash box.’
‘Maybe it’s a cash box full of gold.’
‘Mmm. Perhaps.’
‘Well let’s see, shall we?’
He switched his headlights on and we crouched in front of them, examining our find. When I realised what it was I gave it a hard bang on the Tarmac and a wad of clay came out in a large loaf-
sized lump. Exactly loaf-sized. The word embossed on the side of the box said: BREAD.
Sparky placed his hands over his head, sitting on the floor, and rocked backwards and forwards, making gurgling noises. I hurled the tin over the hedge, far into a copse. It clattered through the branches before falling to earth.
‘I think you and I ought to come to some agreement about this,’ I declared.
He looked up at me, his nose casting a horizontal shadow in the glare of the headlights, the tears from the eye at the illuminated side glistening on his cheek.
‘Agreed,’ he replied, nodding and sniffing. ‘I won’t say a word to anyone about tonight…if you promise not to ever mention line dancing again.’
‘You got it.’
We cleaned up as best we could and put everything in his boot. Any disappointment at not striking gold was tempered by the fact that we were enjoying ourselves. My appetite had returned. ‘God, I hope there’s a fish and chip shop still open, somewhere,’ I said.
Sparky waved an arm in a northerly direction. ‘There’s a good one next junction up. Little restaurant attached.’
‘Great! Fancy some?’
‘Nah. I had a big tea. I’ll come and let you buy me a cuppa, though. I think I deserve it.’
He led the way. It was busy with the trade from the pubs, but they found us a little table in a corner. A young waitress gave us two menus and returned for our order after a few seconds. There were no big decisions to be made.
‘Haddock, chips and peas,’ I told her. ‘That’s just for one. And could we have a pot of tea for two, please?’
She scribbled on her pad. ‘So that’s haddock, chips and peas for one, and tea for two?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘And would you like bread and butter?’
