Free Black Cairn Point by Claire McFall

Museum,’ Martin chortled.
    Dougie ignored him. He was down on his knees, poking his head deep inside the hole he’d made.
    ‘Anybody have a torch handy?’ His voice was muffled, coming out distorted.
    ‘Oh yes, I always carry a torch. That and a defibrillator, a pocket guide to Wales and a pair of bicycle clips.’
    ‘Ha ha.’ Dougie leaned back and threw Martin a scathing look. ‘How about a phone, then?’
    ‘I’ve got a flashlight app on mine,’ I offered, holding my mobile out.
    ‘Cheers.’ His face already back in the depth of the cairn, he reached for it clumsily. His fumbling fingers grabbed mine instead of the phone, sending a wave of heat up through my hand. ‘There’s something else in here,’ he called. ‘Maybe I can reach it.’
    ‘What is it this time, a Durex wrapper?’ Martin snorted.
    Dougie made a face at him, his body turned to the side so that he could wedge his shoulder into the gap and reach an extra few inches.
    ‘I’ve nearly got it,’ he said, straining. ‘Ah-ha!’
    This time when he held it up we were all silent. Wordlessly, Martin and I edged closer for a better look.
    ‘What is it?’ I asked.
    It was small, flat and circular. The centre had been cut out, with a thin line connecting across the diameter. The surface was textured, bobbled and pitted like rusted metal, and it was coated in dirt. Beneath that, though, I could just about make out the faded etchings of curves and shapes carved into the facade.
    ‘I don’t know.’ Dougie spat on his finger and rubbed at the surface, removing the top layer of dirt. ‘It’s metal, anyway. And old. It’s pretty cool. Here.’ He chucked it at me. ‘Take a look.’
    I snagged it with my fingertips, almost snapping the fragile, corroded circlet. Turning it over in my grasp, I traced the hinted-at carvings.
    ‘It needs cleaning up,’ I murmured. ‘You can’t really see it right.’
    ‘We’ll dunk it in the sea,’ Dougie agreed.
    I looked up at him, a little shocked.
    ‘You’re going to take it?’
    ‘Sure, why not?’ He smiled at me, puzzled by my tone.
    ‘But, that’s …’ I stopped short of saying stealing, not sure if it was. ‘But this is someone’s grave.’
    Grave-robbing was definitely illegal, I was sure of that.
    ‘This isn’t a grave-good,’ Dougie disagreed. ‘Probably someone left it as an offering or something. Cairns are a bit like stone circles; people forgot their original purpose, just remembered that they were important.’
    I pursed my lips. That didn’t feel any better. But I made no move to stop him as Dougie reached out and plucked the object out of my hand. I watched as he ran his fingers over it one final time and then slid it into his pocket.
    ‘Want to head back down?’ he suggested. ‘It must be just about lunchtime. I’m starving.’
    With Martin’s help he replaced the stones he’d disturbed and then led the way back down towards the beach, pointing out more archaeological features in the hillside as we went. I tried to pay attention to what he said, hoping I might learn something to prepare me if I did manage to get on my course – but it was hard to focus. My mind was still up at the cairn, at the deep, black hollow surrounded by ancient stones. The druids’ haunt, as Dougie had joked.
    I couldn’t help thinking we’d done something wrong, somehow. Time and time again my eyes were drawn to Dougie’s pocket, where the thing he’d taken was safely nestled.
    I felt like a thief.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Now
    The phone rings. Its shrill, agitated tone cuts through the thick tension in the room like a chainsaw through butter. Dr Petersen glares at it. The offending machine is sleek, black and looks old-fashioned. Not antique, though. Just made to appear that way.
    I raise one eyebrow at him. Isn’t he going to answer it?
    He sighs, shoots an annoyed look at the door. Or through it, really, to the secretary who has dared to interrupt our session.
    I’m not annoyed. I’m