Free The Ghosts of Tullybrae House by Veronica Bale

your dirty glove.” She removed her own glove, and extended a short-fingered hand with chewed nails. “Sophie Miner,” she said in a thick, cockney accent. “Pleased to meet you.”
    “It’s all right. I don’t mind.” She shook Sophie’s hand as well. “I’ve been hearing that backhoe for a few days now. It’s nice to have the quiet back.”
    “I’ll bet,” Sophie acknowledged.
    “So how do you know when to stop with the backhoe and start on the manual excavation?”
    Ewan’s eyes lit up. “That’s a good question. You see here?” His hand swept over the far wall of the trench. “This ridge of discoloured soil? That’s usually our cue to switch gears and start with the more delicate hand work.”
    “Don’t ask him too many questions, you’ll be here all day,” Sophie warned.
    “I’ll behave,” Ewan promised. “You should come out to see us more often.”
    Emmie surveyed the field. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’m kind of avoiding the cameras.”
    “They don’t come out too often,” Famke explained. “And they call before they come out anyway, so you won’t be caught by surprise if you are here and they do show up.”
    “And besides, you need to sign a waiver before they’ll use any footage of you,” Sophie added. “That Rotherham lady was quick to sign, wasn’t she?”
    Ewan huffed. “Thought she’d scratch right through the paper, she was so chuffed.”
    “She’s a right piece of work, she is.”
    “Soph,” Ewan chastised.
    Sophie ignored him. “I mean, really. Did you see her prancing about with Iain, flirting and laughing? I swear, she couldn’t get enough of us when he was here, and now that he’s gone, we haven’t had even a whiff of her.”
    “She’s…” Emmie pursed her lips, searching for the word, “unique.”
    “That’s one way of putting it,” Famke agreed. “I think she’s nice. Flaky, but nice.”
    “She’s awright,” Sophie admitted reluctantly.
    Their conversation was interrupted when the last two members of the crew came bounding over. Both were young men, in their late twenties, Emmie guessed. She smiled hesitantly as they approached, waiting politely for an introduction.
    “Who’ve we got here, then?” asked one of the young men in the same cockney accent as Sophie.
    Famke sighed. “Behave yourself Adam. This is Emmie Tunstall. Emmie, this is Adam Flett and Dean Walker.”
    “Cor, if I’da known you were hiding in there, I woulda found a reason to check the place out sooner,” Adam guffawed.
    “For the love of shite, man, you have a girlfriend,” Sophie complained.
    Adam fixed her with a charming grin. “Only fun, love. Only fun. You’re not offended, are you?”
    Emmie shrugged dismissively.
    “See, Soph? She’s a good’un.”
    “Well then, move over and let the man who doesn’t have a girlfriend have a chance.” The one called Dean shoved Adam out of the way, and offered Emmie his hand. “Dean Walker.”
    Emmie took his hand. “American?”
    “Texas, born and raised, ma’am.” He winked.
    Famke and Sophie rolled their eyes.
    “Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t you, Deano?”
    “Why you gotta call me out like that, Soph? You can never lay it on too thick, you know that.”
    “And on that note, why don’t you go put on some cologne,” Adam put in. “You reek, man.”
    Dean swung a toned arm around Adam’s neck, and pulled his head down for a good, firm knuckle rub.
    Their boyish, over-eager banter was infectious. Emmie found herself laughing along with the others while Adam and Dean rough-housed playfully.
    “I’m Emmie Tunstall,” she offered, when they were finished and standing upright again. “I’m curator here at Tullybrae.”
    “Oh aye, we know,” Adam nodded. “We were wondering when you were going to come out and see us. We were starting to think we’d frightened you away, or summut. I know we’re dirty now, but we clean up good, love. I promise.”
    “I’m sure you do. Anyway, I