Cupid's Way (19 page)

‘Well, lucky them. La-de-da. How nice to live somewhere all your life, to not have to worry about being moved on from pillar to post. My boys and me, we’ve been moved about so many times I don’t know my arse from my elbow. Memories is up here, isn’t it?’ The woman tapped her head with a crooked finger. Her nails were painted in blue, green and yellow swirls.

The councillor moved her on, employing his best consoling tone. Evie distinctly heard him tell her there was little to worry about. The medical centre would be built, no matter what.

No matter what. She turned back to her granddad, feeling rattled. Frank was shaking. Evie registered that he was wearing his best V-neck jumper over a shirt and tie, and the image in her head of him dressing this morning, combing his thin hair over his scalp, pulling on his stay-press slacks, brought a lump to her throat.

‘Don’t worry,’ she told him. ‘It’ll be fine.’

‘So vicious,’ he said, staring after the woman with the black hair. ‘I didn’t realise.’

‘Me neither,’ Evie agreed, then she steered him back towards Zac’s house. Bob had finally managed to get the loudspeaker to work and his voice crackled across the gardens. The archaeologist – someone called either Frederick or Bedwick, it was hard to tell – had arrived and was about to verify the findings.

‘She wants us to just give up, Evie,’ Frank said. ‘Just take the money and move on. She thinks we’re selfish not to.’

‘It doesn’t matter what she wants, does it?’ Evie squeezed his arm. ‘And anyway, once these Roman artefacts have been verified I bet the council will rescind their plans quicker than you can say “Marcus Aurelius”.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Come on, there’s quite a crowd building up.’

They pushed their way to Zac’s door, but then realised all the action was happening at number six – the house Zac was doing up for his mother. As they slipped between the onlookers, Evie wondered whether they’d meet the lucky recipient of Zac’s efforts soon. He didn’t talk about her much, for such a clearly devoted son. She ducked under someone’s elbow, then dragged her granddad around to the right.

Mavis was standing guard in the doorway of number six. She waved them in, ignoring the protests of the people crowding around her. ‘Get back,’ she said authoritatively. ‘The expert needs room to work.’

‘Thanks, Gran,’ Evie said as they slipped inside. ‘What’s happening?’

Mavis gave her a kiss and a brief hug, before resuming sentinel duty. ‘Everyone’s back there in the kitchen. Dr Frederick is examining the site.’

Evie smiled at her gran’s easy adoption of the term “site”. ‘Don’t you want to come and see?’ she said.

‘Nah. Someone has to keep this lot at bay.’

There was barely room for Evie in the kitchen – Dr Frederick took up more than his fair share of space with his broad frame and jutting belly. The florescent light bounced off his bald head, and Evie caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. The residents were crowded around him like petals on a flower. Zac stood on the archaeologist’s right hand side. His eyes kept flitting from the turned-over earth to the expert’s face and back again. Evie slipped in beside Frank, who looked down at her and raised his eyebrows expectantly. She threw him a reassuring smile.

Zac had left the rest of his findings in situ, as instructed by Tim after he’d been in touch with Dr Frederick at the museum. The piece of pottery found on the night of the party had already been handed over, but Tim said the rest of the artefacts needed to be seen in their original positions for a proper assessment to be made. The press were here, ready to photograph the residents holding their authentic Roman finds, along with their impressive expert, and Evie figured that once the papers ran that story, some kind of outcry over the current plans for Cupid’s Way was inevitable. Which could only improve their chances of getting them scrapped.

She rubbed her hands together and peered into the pit where Dr Frederick stood. The hole was almost three feet deep in the middle, with earth banked up at the sides in stratified layers. Evie wondered what Zac had been doing digging down so far in the first place.

Tim, standing on her left, tipped his head to the side. ‘I’ve been reading about the Kings Weston Roman Villa,’ he said. ‘This could be just as important, you know.’

‘It’d be amazing if it was,’ Evie agreed. ‘But you know, if there are the remains of some kind of settlement down here it’ll mean a lot of disruption.’

‘Better than being bulldozed, though,’ Frank said. ‘Hold on, he’s coming out.’

Bob Peacock held out his hand to help the archaeologist up, but anyone could see Bob didn’t have a hope in hell’s chance of pulling the man out of the hole on his own. Zac stepped forward and grabbed Dr Frederick by his elbow, and Cissy, pressed against the far side of the room, opened the back door to let in some air. Evie chewed on a fingernail, watching the man’s face for clues to what he’d found. She thought about what Sarah had said. Michael was rumoured to be coming along today to see the findings for himself. He could be out there right now, waiting.

She watched the archaeologist and waited for his verdict. She couldn’t help feeling that whatever he was about to say would have a profound effect on the future of Cupid’s Way. One way or the other, something was about to change.

‘Well,’ said Dr Frederick. Everyone edged forward an inch further. In his chubby-fingered hand he held the red-brown piece of pottery Zac had found over a week ago. ‘This item’ he said, lifting it up high, ‘is absolutely authentic. I would say it dates from the end of the third century AD.’

There was a hushed intake of breath and then Bob Peacock let out a cheer. ‘Atta boy,’ he said to Zac, slapping him on the back. Zac, looking completely stunned, toppled and nearly fell into the hole. He righted himself and a strange look – shock or relief, or something else Evie couldn’t name – passed across his face before he broke out into a huge grin.

‘That’s what I figured,’ he said, looking directly at Evie. ‘Totally authentic.’

Evie was still watching the archaeologist. His red-lipped mouth had turned down at the corners. He glanced around, as though confused, then said,

‘But the item itself is not from this site.’

Zac stopped shaking hands with Pip and looked up. ‘What?’

‘This item is not from this location,’ Dr Frederick repeated. ‘It is of Roman origin, probably some kind of drinking vessel, but it was very unlikely to have been found here. As for these other items,’ he waved his hand to take in the muddy ditch with its scattering of artefacts, partially unearthed by Zac’s careful digging, ‘these are all from vastly different eras, and completely different social strata.’

Evie leaned forward for a closer look. She saw a couple more bits of pottery, something that might have been a metal coin or a badge, and a long chunk of iron probably about an inch thick. They looked exactly like the artefacts she’d seen in the museum as a child.

‘But they are genuine?’ Zac said. ‘They are all Roman, right?’

Dr Frederick nodded. He had edged backwards towards the kitchen door and was leaning against the frame as if getting ready to make a quick getaway.

Zac said, ‘So there must have been some kind of Roman settlement here, right? A house or a villa or something.’

‘Of course there was,’ said Bob. Tim was watching the archaeologist closely, his fingers laced on the top of his head, while Sarah had her eyes trained on Zac. Evie was starting to get an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She thought about the crowd outside, the photographers from the local press, the residents of the new estates. What did it mean? What exactly had Zac unearthed here?

‘No,’ said Dr Frederick. His cheeks were even more ruddy now, as though the effort of trying to make his point was physically demanding. ‘No, no. There is nothing here. This house was built on nothing at all.’

‘How can you tell?’ Tim demanded. His thinning hair stood on end where he’d rubbed it. ‘You’ve only been here five minutes. You’ve barely glanced at the rest of the stuff.’

‘Tim,’ Sarah said, reaching out her hand but stopping short of touching him. ‘You called Dr Frederick in yourself. He’s your expert. We have to trust what he says.’

‘We need to get more people in, more experts,’ Tim said. He didn’t look in Sarah’s direction, and after the briefest pause she dropped her hand to her side.

‘Better experts,’ Bob added.

Dr Frederick bristled. ‘I can assure you it won’t matter how many experts you involve, this is not a site of archaeological interest. The items are not placed correctly, there are in the wrong layer of subsoil, they are from eras of Roman rule so disparate it would be impossible for them to have been situated here in any habitual manner.’

‘I don’t understand what he’s saying,’ Frank whispered to Evie. ‘I can hear all the words but they don’t make any sense. Are they Roman or not?’

But Evie was still listening, trying to process what it all meant. It was only when she heard the words ‘artificial placement’ that the final pieces slotted into place. She sighed, feeling a heaviness settle on her chest. It was wrong – it was all completely wrong. All their hopes had been raised for nothing.

‘It’s faked,’ she said, tipping up her chin and turning to face her granddad square on. ‘I’m sorry, Gramps, but someone has been having us on.’

Frank shook his head. ‘I don’t … What are you saying?’

Sarah narrowed her eyes and regarded Evie warily. Tim became very still.

‘All this.’ Evie pointed at the objects lying at the bottom of Zac’s excavated kitchen floor. She laughed, a choked, hoarse sound. How silly it seemed now – the coin, the pottery, the iron tool. Someone’s idea of what a Roman settlement might look like. Someone incredibly stupid. ‘All this has been staged, for our benefit. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like a genuine archaeological discovery.’

Dr Frederick was listening to her, eagerly nodding his shiny head. ‘Yes. I think you’re right. I think that’s exactly it. Someone has tried to make this look authentic. But I’m afraid it certainly isn’t.’

Evie was staring at Bob, who was doing a very good job of appearing both horrified and thunderstruck. His face had pinked up in brash conflict with his ginger hair, and he was bobbing up and down on his heels demanding to know what the hell was going on.

‘I got the bloody TV people to come down for this,’ he shouted at nobody in particular. ‘What am I going to tell them now?’

‘That your plan didn’t work?’ Frank said. He took a step forward, but realised just in time that a three-foot-deep chasm stood between him and the smaller man. ‘You’ve done it this time, Peacock. You’ll not get away with this.’

‘Gramps, we don’t know for sure he did it,’ Evie said.

‘Of course he didn’t do it,’ Freda Peacock said, elbowing her way to Evie’s side. She pointed her finger at Frank. ‘And you’d better watch yourself, flinging accusations around. For all we know,
you
did it.’

‘Did what?’

Evie turned to see her gran standing behind her. She let out an involuntary sigh, which sounded more like a sob. ‘Gran, aren’t you needed on guard duty?’

‘They’ve been distracted by a new arrival.’ Mavis dodged to the side to see past Evie, who was blocking her way into the kitchen. ‘What’s going on in here?’

Bob Peacock was arguing with Frank now, and Tim was trying to get Dr Frederick’s attention, but he was being quizzed by Sarah and Cissy while Pip stood off to one side, scratching his head and gazing into the damp-smelling pit. Evie steered her gran back through the bare living room and out of the front door.

‘I’ll tell you in a minute,’ she said, still trying to organise her thoughts. ‘Right now I think we should try and get rid of all these people.’

The last thing Evie wanted was for the news of a faked Roman dig to be played out in front of the local papers and TV crew. So much for coming back to Cupid’s Way to stage a rescue mission. Now their best hope of gaining press coverage was going to be for all the wrong reasons, and the hoped-for leverage for getting the street listed had gone up in smoke. Evie turned back to look at Zac’s house, her mind in turmoil. At least the day couldn’t get any worse.

‘It’s that man who’s got them all worked up,’ Mavis said, jerking her head towards the crowd of people who had temporarily lost interest in the archaeology and were gathered together further up the path. Evie could see a tall man with a camera and a woman holding a fluffy microphone on a pole high in the air above someone’s head.

‘Who?’ she said.

‘Your friend, Mr Andrews. Come to try and sabotage our plans, no doubt. Pour cold water over everything. But we’ll show him, eh? Evie? Are you okay?’

‘Fine. I’m fine. Gran, we need to go back inside. There’s something you need to hear.’

Once they were back in the house, Evie locked the door and headed through to the kitchen, where the residents were still arguing and poor Dr Frederick was back in the pit being harangued by Tim and Cissy. She grabbed Frank by the elbow and pulled him over to where Mavis stood in the doorway, looking confused but also amused, as though any minute now all this would be explained and order restored. Evie whispered in her granddad’s ear, ‘Break it to her gently, please,’ then slipped back outside.

She was looking over her shoulder to make sure Frank hadn’t got distracted by Bob Peacock again, so she didn’t notice the man standing right outside Zac’s door. In fact, she was so intent on the scene behind her, and on negotiating the steps out of the house, she didn’t notice the man until she practically walked into his arms.

‘Evie,’ he said, his voice as warm and welcoming as a soft and cosy blanket. ‘It’s so good to see you. How are you?’

Evie froze. Michael Andrews had one hand on each of her arms, and was looking into her eyes with so much pleasure, she had trouble remembering how she was supposed to react. Her body was telling her to move forward, to smile and let the warmth fill her from head to toe – how wonderful to see him again, how amazing that he should evoke this reaction in her – but her mind was telling her something else entirely. He’s the enemy, Evie, said the rational voice in her head. You can’t trust him. And you can’t trust yourself, either.