“It was a couple of years after the dig ended,” Pru said. “We were all back here – well, not here – most of us were at some of the cheap hotels downtown; Horizon wasn’t picking up the tab then, and we were on our own nickel. It was called Europa Point: A Retrospective – a kind of miniconference bringing things up to date on Gibraltar Boy and the First Family two years later; maybe fifteen contributors all together – people who had had some part in it – hey, come to think of it, why weren’t you here, Gideon?”
“I remember being invited. Couldn’t make it, I forget why. But I did see the proceedings, of course. Excellent papers; a lot of good scholarship, well presented.”
“Why, thank you, prof,” said Pru, beaming. “I was program chair.”
“Is somebody going to get around to what happened to Sheila Chan?” Julie pleaded through clenched teeth.
“She was killed in a cave-in,” Pru said. “It was really bizarre. It was two days before they dug her out.”
“That’s awful,” Julie said, “but why is it bizarre?”
“Because it was the Europa Point Cave itself where it happened. The whole hillside came down on her. It was like, you know, woohoo, the Curse of Europa Point.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be there at all, that was the sad part,” Corbin said with a reproachful look at Pru. In his opinion, flippancy was out of place at any time, let alone when discussing a colleague’s death. “It’d been rainy the year before, and the soil had loosened, and they had the site roped off because they thought there might be a landslide. After all, when you think about it, there had obviously been other landslides in the past, or we wouldn’t have had to dig it out in the first place. But no, she paid no attention. She kept going there anyway.”
“Actually, that wasn’t the sad part,” Pru said more pensively. “The sad part was that she had no relatives, nobody interested in having her body returned to them. She was cremated right here in Gibraltar, when they didn’t know what else to do with her.”
“That is sad,” Julie said.
“Ivan paid for it,” Corbin added. “He had her ashes scattered in the Strait.”
“But why was she hanging around the site?” Gideon asked. “Wasn’t the dig completed and closed down by then?”
“It was,” Pru said. “That was the funny thing. But you know, I suppose there’s always something that might have been missed. And she was painstaking, boy, I’ll say that for her. Heck, she made Mr. Meticulous here” – a nod in Corbin’s direction – “look positively slipshod. Hey, Rowley-”
Rowley started. He had gone back to watching Gunderson. “I’m sorry – what?”
“Did she ever tell you what she was after, fooling around in the cave? Apparently, you got along with her better than anyone else.”
“But that was during the original dig. I don’t think I said two words to her at the meetings the following year. I wasn’t around very much.”
“Of course you were around. You picked us up at the airport.”
“Yes, I was around, but I spent almost all the time on a site survey on the west side, remember?”
“Oh, yes, so you did,” Pru said.
“Another Neanderthal site?” Gideon asked.
“No, they were considering building a hotel, or perhaps it was a condominium, and the law requires that they get an archaeological evaluation before they do any digging. That’s part of my job here. You never know what you might find. I’ve turned up two Neanderthal campsites that way in the past, and of course I was hoping for another, more permanent habitation.”
“And did you find one?” Julie asked.
“Alas, no,” said Rowley, turning apprehensive eyes on Gunderson again. “How does Ivan seem to you?”
The salad plates were cleared and the main dish, grenadine of pork glazed with port wine and served with prune confit, was quickly brought. (The staff had been asked to be “brisk.”) Over this aromatic dish, Corbin and Pru entertained the Olivers with the usual war stories about the personality conflicts and typical contretemps at the Europa Point dig. By then, Gideon had unbent and had a glass of white wine, and the conversation was animated and entertaining.
At the head table, however, things were considerably more stilted. Gunderson’s resources seemed to diminish by the minute. Audrey and Adrian, on either side of him, worked at trying to engage him in conversation, but Gunderson, eating with the single-minded avidity of the aged for their remaining pleasures, was in a ravenous world of his own, devouring his food as if he’d never have another opportunity. Gideon’s heart sank further every time he looked up at him.
The only comment he was heard to make came when he had finished using a roll to mop up every last scrap of his dinner (an action that would have been unthinkable in the Ivan Gunderson of a few years ago).
“I don’t remember my mother,” Gunderson said suddenly and quite loudly, “but as I may have told you before, when my father remarried, his new wife brought her three grown daughters to live with us: Sally, Veronica, and Annie-Maude. So there I was, one impressionable young boy of eleven who’d never been around women, suddenly surrounded by a household of four of them. Four of them! Now that’s enough to give anyone pause.”
Everyone waited for whatever was coming next – a joke, an apocryphal story – but that was it. He reached for his wine and gazed uneasily about him, obviously wondering why everybody was looking at him.
Audrey cleared her throat. “Perhaps this would be a good time to get on with the ceremonies?”
Yes! Gideon urged silently.
Gunderson looked up anxiously. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”
“Well, why don’t we begin our ceremonies while we await our dessert and coffee?” Adrian suggested mildly, and then, before Gunderson could reply, he said, “Rowley, why don’t you start the festivities? ”
Rowley hurriedly took his unlit pipe from his mouth, stood up, blushing, and made a warm, pleasant little speech about how much Gunderson had meant to the Territory of Gibraltar, recounting how the very first Neanderthal skeleton ever to be found anywhere, a female, had actually been discovered there in 1848, but no one had understood what it was until after a similar skeleton, a male, had turned up eight years later in the Neander Valley – das Neander Thal – near Dusseldorf.
“And so what might have been ‘Gibraltar Woman’ became instead ‘Neanderthal Man,’” Rowley said, “robbing Gibraltar of its rightful place in the history of archaeology. That is, until the, ah, eminent gentleman seated there to my left came along” – he smiled down at Gunderson, who smiled back – “and provided the impetus and insight that led to the wonderful discoveries at Europa Point. We now not only have Gibraltar Woman but Gibraltar Boy as well – the justly celebrated First Family – catapulting Gibraltar back into the mainstream, indeed, the forefront of prehistoric archaeology.”
He turned to face Gunderson directly. “Ivan, on behalf of the Historical Association, it is my great pleasure and honor to present you with this year’s Mons Calpe Medal in recognition of your many contributions, moral, financial, and advisory to the Gibraltar Museum of Archaeology and Geology.”
He raised the award high for all to see – a gleaming Roman coin (“Mons Calpe” was the Romans’ name for Gibraltar) – hung on a gold chain that was stitched down the center of a wide, red-and-white-striped ribbon. When Gunderson rose to accept it, head modestly bowed, Rowley placed it around his neck, draping the ribbon almost tenderly over his shoulders.
In a rattle of nervous applause, Gunderson shook hands with Rowley and faced the assembled guests. He looked genuinely touched. He also looked as if he might be back in reasonable form. All held their breath as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Thank you so much for this honor,” he said smoothly and sincerely, at which the collective, inheld breath was released, “which I must in all honesty say is completely undeserved. It is Dr. Vanderwater who did the work and brought forth the great achievement; Dr. Vanderwater and his extremely accomplished staff-”
An imperial, benevolent nod and wave from Adrian, simpers from Corbin and Pru.
“-some of whom I am extremely gratified to see here tonight. But whether I deserve it or not” – a humorous twinkle lit his eyes – “I’d just like to see anyone try and get it away from me.” He sat down smiling. “Thank you all for this wonderful, wonderful evening.” Then, as an afterthought: “You’ve made an old man very happy.”
The applause was heartfelt this time. People were moved by the occasion, and thankful and relieved that Gunderson had been able to handle it with his old flair. By now coffee and dessert had been brought, and at Audrey’s suggestion, the presentation of the V. Gordon Childe award was held off until the almond creme brulee had
