T A Williams - What Happens In Cornwall...

‘No bloody way.’

‘Well, don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.’

‘Damn right.’

The arrival of the waiter to remove the plates temporarily interrupted their argument.

‘Some ice cream?’ He was a friendly-looking man with terrible teeth. ‘Or some lychees, maybe?’ He balanced the plates on his arm and waited for a response.

Neil didn’t even glance across at Samantha. ‘No, thanks. Just the bill please.’

Chapter 1

‘You know, Sam, there was something really sexy about the Vikings.’

Samantha looked up from the tray of silt, gravel and slime before them on the table and smiled. ‘You really need to find yourself a boyfriend, Becky. And soon.’

‘I don’t mean this stuff here. I mean real muscle-bound, bearded, helmet-wearing Vikings with long blond hair blowing in the wind. You know, with horns, hammers and longships. They must have been quite something.’ She sighed at the thought. ‘Wouldn’t a big, hunky Viking appeal to you, too?’

‘I’ve already got my own Viking. I’m not sure I’d like another one.’ Samantha glanced down at her black fingernails and muddy hands. ‘Although somehow I don’t think Neil would have been up there wielding a sword in the vanguard. He’s not really a rape and pillage sort of guy these days.’ She caught Becky’s eye and sighed. There was no need to say more. Both of them knew the relationship was, like the Viking longboats, sailing up the proverbial creek. Samantha completed her sweep of the contents of the tray. ‘Nothing here. I’ll sling this lot if you want to get another bucketful.’

While Rebecca reached for the next load, Samantha picked up the tray and carried it across to the spoil pile. The heap was getting bigger and bigger, but all they had to show for their day’s work so far was what might have been a piece of belt buckle. She looked up at the sky. Grey clouds were building on the horizon and it looked very much as though the forecast rain was not far off. She knew all too well what that would mean. Tomorrow the site would be a quagmire, and the trench most probably half-full of water. She sighed. It was July, for God’s sake!

‘Sam, Becky, it’s five o’clock. Time to head for home.’

They both looked up at the sound of his voice. There weren’t many men on this particular dig and Andras, the visiting expert from Uppsala University, was far and away the most presentable. Becky made sure she sat next to him on the way back in the minibus. Sam took a seat alongside her supervisor, Virginia.

‘Exciting day, Sam?’

Sam nodded, but the truth was she hadn’t had a really exciting day for a long while. Her life over the past few months had settled into a fairly monotonous sequence of archaeological digs, study… and more study. Not forgetting regular visits to her mum which exhausted her mentally and emotionally. She and Neil rarely went out together and her days were highlighted by occasional runs along the riverbank or a visit from the next door neighbour’s cat. The arrival of a longship full of hairy Scandinavians would probably make a welcome break.

By the time she finally got back to their flat, the rain was just starting and it was almost half past six. She closed the door behind her and retrieved a letter from the gas company and a couple of circulars from the mat.

‘Neil. You there?’

There was no reply. She did a rapid calculation and realised it was Tuesday. Tuesday nights were rugby training, so she probably wouldn’t see him till late. She felt weary, dirty and lazy; so lazy in fact that she didn’t head for the bathroom for her usual post-dig shower. Instead, she went into the kitchen, washed the worst of the mud off her hands, and then opened the fridge. There was still the remains of a bottle of Pinot Grigio in there, so she pulled it out and poured what was left into a mug. The piles of dirty dishes, including all their glasses, were still waiting for somebody to wash them. Although it was Neil’s turn, she knew in her bones that if she didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. She took a sip of the wine and sat down at the laptop to check her emails.

Predictably, there was a long, rambling email from her mother. Since Samantha’s father had walked out of the family home without warning a year ago, her mum had been suffering bouts of deep depression. Sam and her sister had been taking it in turns to provide support and reassurance, but it wasn’t easy. The two weekends a month she spent with her mother reduced Sam to an emotional wreck by the time she got back home again. She took a deep breath and read the email all the way through, finding little to cheer her. As ever, it ended with the exhortation to study hard and always wear clean underwear. At the age of thirty, that somehow felt to Sam like an unnecessary intrusion into her private life, such as it was. She shot off a one line reply with a smiley face, telling her mum she would give her a call later on.

As the first flurry of rain beat against her window, she swallowed the last of the wine and headed for the bathroom.

Around nine o’clock she was interrupted by a familiar sound. She looked up from her reading as the noise came again. A glance across at the window showed her that she had a visitor. She saw the cat’s mouth open wide as it mewed a greeting. She smiled to herself. She had been looking forward to seeing him, although it had often occurred to her that when the highlight of your day is the appearance of a disdainful tabby in search of a free meal, you know there could be more to life. That said, she readily admitted to herself that the arrival of this little creature cheered her more than the appearance of Neil these days.

Tucking a card into the book to mark her place, she went over and opened the window. It was pitch black outside, but the rain appeared to have stopped, at least for the moment, and the cat was dry.

‘So you’ve come for some salmon, have you?’

All she got in return was another plaintive meow. Ignoring her outstretched arms, the cat jumped lightly to the floor and strode into the kitchen. Samantha headed for the cupboard and took the top tin of salmon from the stack. She tipped the contents into a bowl and set it on the floor. The cat wasted no time in setting about the fish.

‘There must be more to life than tinned salmon.’ It was just an observation, but the cat ignored it anyway.

She went over to the sink and filled the kettle. A cup of tea was what she needed. She took a seat at the little table while she waited for it to boil. She swilled the mug she had used for her wine earlier and set it down on the draining board. She noticed that the pile of Neil’s dirty laundry had overflowed the laundry basket by now. During their most recent argument she had told him she was no longer going to do all the washing. The exact expression she had used was that she wasn’t going to be his slave any longer. If he wanted clean clothes from now on, he would have to wash them himself. Since then he hadn’t touched the washing machine and she was beginning to wonder how long his stock of clean stuff would last.

‘So are you coming to say thank you for your meal?’ The cat had finished the salmon, all bar a tiny piece that he left as if to say, I don’t need this food. I just come because I know you want to see me . Sometimes after eating he would make straight for the window and demand to be released. Tonight he decided he might grace her with his company, at least for a while. He arched his back into a long stretch and then jumped onto her lap, purring noisily. As she stroked him, he started the familiar bread-kneading action with his claws that was slowly ripping the knees of all her jeans. As always, she felt privileged to be chosen.

The kettle boiled, but she stayed seated for as long as the cat decided to stay on her lap. Within a few minutes, her phone started to ring. The cat raised its head and gave her an affronted look, clearly accusing her of being responsible for disturbing his rest. She picked it up and checked the caller ID. It was Becky.