Free Marrying Up by Wendy Holden Page B

sheep and swooping birds,
     was difficult to imagine. And yet Polly was suppressing a rising sense of panic.
    Self-doubt had set in. Polly was increasingly sure that Max was desperately regretting inviting her out and only asking questions
     to be polite. Nervously, in a monotone, her eyes not quite lifting to his, she answered his questions about the excavation.
    Gradually, however, things warmed up. It was impossible for Polly to talk about her subject without enthusiasm, and even to
     her self-critical eye and ear Max’s interest began to seem less feigned. He seemed particularly intrigued by the children,
     snorting at some of Kyle’s more choice remarks.
    ‘He’s completely fascinated with the fact that they’re toilets.’ Polly chuckled. ‘None of the children can get over the idea
     that we’re working on an ancient loo. But loos
are
fascinating.’
    ‘Why?’ Max asked, his expression hovering somewhere between incredulous and amused.
    ‘Because they show that people haven’t changed over the centuries.’
    Max laughed. ‘I suppose so. There’s not much variation in what happens after all.’
    ‘Quite,’ Polly said, about to expand on the point. Then, realising it perhaps wasn’t the ideal subject for a romantic first
     date, she blushed and twiddled with her glass stem.
    His expression, as he looked at her, was serious. ‘What’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever discovered?’ he asked her.
    The question pulled her up short; Polly could not think what to say. She fought the sudden, insane urge to shout, ‘You!
You
are!’
    ‘I suppose,’ she said slowly, trying to gather her scattered wits, ‘it was something we found in a dig in Dorset. A skeleton
     that had been buried with a dog.’
    ‘Dog?’ Max’s eyes lit up.
    ‘Yes, we thought it was a grave offering, or even a sacrifice. But then we found both of the skeleton’s arms arranged so that
     they were cradling it.’
    ‘So it was a pet?’ Max leant forward, intent.
    ‘Yes. It was moving, seeing the demonstration of a relationship like that.’ Polly smiled fondly at the memory. ‘The love a
     person had for their pet, thousands of years ago.’
    Neither of them said anything for a moment.
    ‘Like you say,’ Max remarked, breaking the silence, ‘people aren’t all that different. I’d probably want to be buried with
     my dog, frankly.’
    ‘What sort of dog is it?’ A much-loved one, obviously; his eyes were shining with affection.
    ‘He’s a spaniel called Beano.’ Max’s voice was soft. ‘Been my pet since I was a little boy. Only got one eye, though, poor
     old devil.’
    ‘One eye?’ Polly was immediately interested.
    ‘Blind in the other. Squints a bit too. He’s always been funny-looking.’ Max flashed her a grin. ‘But I love his squint. He’s
     more interesting because he’s not perfect.’
    Polly stared at him. She felt a rush of something like adoration. She had suffered so much of her childhood because of her
     squint. And here was Max, who loved his dog all the more because of his.
    ‘I’d love to meet Beano,’ Polly said sincerely. ‘He sounds like my kind of dog. You see,’ she added shyly, ‘I had a squint
     as a child. We’d have a lot in common.’
    Max looked at her eyes for a long time; perhaps longer thanwas strictly necessary. ‘A squint?’ he said softly. ‘You can’t tell at all now. Which eye was it in?’
    Polly’s face was warm with self-consciousness. ‘This one.’ She lowered her right eyelid in a wink. ‘They used to call me Boz
     Eyes at school,’ she added, embarrassed.
    He frowned. ‘Boz Eyes?’ he repeated in his slight accent. ‘What is that? It doesn’t sound very polite.’
    ‘It’s not.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘But who cares now? It was ages ago. Anyway, I’d love to meet Beano. Is he with you?’
    Max shook his dark head. ‘No, at home.’
    She was about to ask where home was when she saw that something had distracted him. He was staring over her