Free The Lives She Left Behind by James Long

because we might ruin whatever is down there, so we’re coming in from the sides.’ He pointed to the
spur of earth which stood between them and the other diggers like a buttress to the hill. ‘I suspect our chamber lies right under
that
.’
    The boy stared at it as if it should mean something to him, then shook his head.
    ‘This is what they call the bailey, this flat area,’ said Rupert, looking around him. ‘It’s the part of the castle where they all lived.’
    The purple spheres came back to Luke as bunches of grapes. ‘No it wasn’t,’ he said, ‘this was the vineyard,’ and immediately wished he could pull the words back
when the archaeologist swung round and looked at him sharply.
    ‘Oh, I see. You’re an expert on Montacute, are you?’
    ‘On what?’
    ‘Montacute.’
    ‘What’s a montacute?’ said the boy, though he felt he should know.
    ‘This is Montacute,’ Rupert said, frowning. ‘Mons Acutus, the steep hill. That’s what the Normans called it.’
    The teacher was staring at the boy curiously. ‘You mean you don’t know where you are, Luke? You just happened along?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘So where did that vineyard stuff come from?’ demanded Rupert. He sounded almost affronted.
    ‘I don’t know why I said that,’ Luke replied. That wasn’t strictly correct. He had said it because those brief purple shapes, just above him as he lay there, had been
grapes.
    ‘Go easy, Rupert. He’s shocked,’ said the teacher.
    ‘Did
you
know about the vineyard theory, Mike?’
    ‘There really is a vineyard theory?’
    ‘Well, yes. There were vineyards listed in the Abbey lands and these terraces face the right way. The theory’s common knowledge but only if you happen to be a keen reader of obscure
archaeological monographs.’ He turned to Luke and smiled enquiringly. ‘Is that what you read at night, young Luke?’
    ‘No. I must have heard it somewhere.’
    ‘Yes, it must be the talk of . . . where do you come from? Wincanton?’
    ‘Cucklington. It’s near there.’
    ‘How did you get here?’
    ‘On my bike.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I just wanted to go for a ride.’
    ‘I don’t get it, Luke. You didn’t come to see the dig, you didn’t know this was Montacute, and you start talking about the vineyards?’
    The teacher was studying the boy intently and he saw a brief trace of a hunted expression. A deep wonder stirred in him and the chilling edge of an absurd idea. He found he didn’t want the
boy to disappear. ‘Rupert, maybe Luke could stay for the day?’ he suggested, and looked at the boy. ‘If you want to, that is. I’ll be heading home about six o’clock. I
could give you a lift back.’
    ‘If you like,’ Rupert said, surprised. He looked at Luke. ‘Would you like to have a go while you’re here?’
    ‘What, dig? With a trowel?’
    ‘Yes. Mike says I should do more to educate the young.’
    ‘You didn’t let me dig anything for ages,’ the teacher objected.
    ‘You, Michael, have the deftness of a hippo and the eyesight of a mole. This young man, if I’m not mistaken, is in the first bright-eyed flush of youth and treads lightly on this
earth.’
    Luke suddenly found himself nodding his head, wanting to see under this modern grass into the older secrets.
    ‘Shall I have him in my trench?’
    ‘No,’ said Rupert. ‘You stick to teaching things you know about. I’ll put him with Dozer.’
    So Luke found himself kneeling in the same trench he had fallen into with the big man who had helped him. Dozer looked strong enough to break rocks with his bare hands despite his white hair.
‘Here you go, kid,’ he said, pulling a trowel from his back pocket. ‘You can borrow Maureen. She’s my spare.’
    The boy wished he had gone with the teacher. He could see the girls in the other trench, twenty yards away, standing with their backs to him. The teacher was with them.
    ‘Come on,’ said Dozer. ‘There’s dirt to shift. Just take it nice and easy, like this.