John Preston - The Dig

“Stuart,” I said, my voice sounding faint and scarcely my own.

He was sitting on the bank, drawing. I saw him lift up his head.

“What is it, darling?”

“Will you come here?”

When I put the pyramid in Stuart’s hand, I was struck by how much smaller it looked than it had done in mine. He stared at the pyramid for what felt like a long time before asking, “Where did you find this?”

I didn’t say anything; I just pointed down at the ground. When I did so, his face broke into a smile. It was such a big smile that it seemed to wrap itself around his face.

“You clever girl,” he said. Then he stepped forward and hugged me. “You clever, clever girl.”

I buried my forehead in his shoulder. I didn’t want him to see that I had been crying. Besides, I could hardly recall what I’d been making such a fuss about.

Then, in a much louder voice, he said, “May I have your attention, everyone? Peggy, my wife, has found something that I am sure will interest you.”

A quickening murmur ran round the site. Everyone strained forward, looking over the bank into the ship. We crossed to the ladder. I went up first. Mrs. Pretty and her son were waiting at the top.

“What is it?” Robert was yelling. “What have you found?”

“It appears to be a piece of jewelry,” I told him.

“Gold?”

“Oh, it’s gold, all right,” said Stuart, coming up behind me. “Gold with very intricate cloisonné work.”

Although I can’t imagine this meant a great deal to Robert, it did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm. As I handed the pyramid to Mrs. Pretty, he kept jumping up and down beside her.

“May I see, Mama? Please may I see?”

Rather than pass the pyramid to him, Mrs. Pretty held it out between her thumb and forefinger. He put his face very close to it, scrunching up his forehead and squinting at it from as many angles as possible. Afterwards, she let the men have a look — they had also gathered round and were showing a lively interest.

“You found this, did you, Mrs. Piggott?” Mrs. Pretty asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I believe so… I mean, yes, I did.”

At this, she grasped my hand, much more strongly and more warmly than I would have expected.

“Well done, my dear. Many congratulations. What a wonderful discovery.”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it had just been lying there. That all I had had to do was bend down and pick it up. But I said nothing. However ill-deserved all this praise may have been, I didn’t want it to go away. Not completely. My mouth was very dry. I kept hoping Mrs. Pretty’s butler would reappear with more barley water, but he never did.

While we were standing around in a dazed sort of way, Mr. Brown came over and asked if I wouldn’t mind telling him where I had found the pyramid.

“I can easily show you, if you like,” I said. “If you’d just come down the ladder.”

He glanced around before saying, “I’d better not, thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll hold on to the bottom.”

“No, no,” he said, and gave a laugh. “It’s not that. Mr. Phillips has said he doesn’t want me going anywhere near the burial chamber.”

“Mr. Phillips? Why on earth would he say such a thing?”

“I don’t exactly know, although I dare say he has his reasons. Perhaps you could show me from here.”

I pointed down into the ship. “Just down there,” I told him. “See that greenish band there? Just to the left of it.”

After gazing at the spot for some time, he nodded, thanked me again and walked away. In the end, it was Stuart who suggested in a slightly embarrassed fashion that we should all go back to work.

When Phillips came back during the afternoon, he promptly flew into a rage at not having been there when the discovery was made. When shown the pyramid by Stuart, he glared at it, as if both stupefied and affronted by its presence.

“Ye gods,” he muttered.

“Peggy found it, CW,” Stuart told him.

Phillips didn’t react to this; he just kept on glaring at the pyramid. Soon afterwards the light turned an odd lemony color and rain began to fall. At first, it looked as if it would be no more than a shower, but then came several claps of thunder. These were followed by an extraordinary sight. A dark curtain was being drawn down the center of the estuary, wet on one side, dry on the other. It might have been moving on rails, brushing against the surface of the water.

We all helped to put the covers back on and then took shelter beneath the trees. The rain grew heavier, clattering on the leaves and sending brown rivulets running down the spoil heaps. In the wood, Robert amused himself by jumping from one mossy hummock to another. By six it was plain that we were not going to be able to continue. Phillips told the men they could go, as soon as they had made sure the tarpaulins were securely fastened.

We drove back to Woodbridge with Phillips following. I sat beside Stuart with the window open and the thundery breeze buffeting against my face. My limbs were so heavy I felt I had molasses flowing through my veins. As we drew up outside the Bull, the street lights were already being turned on due to the weather. Orange balls of light stood out against the dark gray sky.

“Oh, Lord,” said Stuart as he was putting the car keys into his pocket.

“What’s the matter?”

He withdrew his hand and unfolded his fingers. Under the street lights, the gold pyramid gave off a soft oystery glow.

“I had been intending to give it to Mrs. Pretty, but it must have completely slipped my mind. What do you think I should do, darling?”

“Don’t do anything,” I said.

“But shouldn’t I tell Phillips?”

“Not now — not tonight. Just remember to give it to Mrs. Pretty in the morning.”

When we walked through the front door, I could hear the sound of laughter coming from the bar. Clouds of smoke billowed into the corridor. We waited for Phillips to come in. I had assumed he would march straight past the bar and head for his room. To my surprise, though, he rubbed his hands together and said, “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

“I should say so,” agreed Stuart.

The bar was crowded, with no spare seats. Even Phillips was unable to make much headway against the throng of drinkers. Stuart and I attempted to reach the bar by another route. But we hadn’t gone far when our path was blocked by a small round man.

“I know who you are,” said the man, rocking confidently back and forth. “I’ve seen you in here before.”

“Have you now?” said Stuart.

“You’re one of those archaeologists working over at Sutton Hoo.”

“That’s right.”

“How are you getting on then?”

“Oh, not too bad. Not too bad at all.”

“Found any gold, have you, old boy?”

Stuart leaned towards him. “As a matter of fact,” he said in a confidential sort of manner, “my pockets are full of it.”

The man laughed so hard at this that he might have overbalanced if it hadn’t been for the press of people. “Marvelous, marvelous. You must have a drink, then.”

“Thank you,” said Stuart. “I think I could do with one.”

“Here,” said the man to the occupants of one of the nearby tables. “Mind your manners, lads. There’s a young lady here with nowhere to sit.”

The men stood up with no sign of resentment. Drinks were fetched and set before us. Before we drank, we all hoisted our glasses at our benefactor, who lifted his in return.

“Congratulations, darling,” said Stuart, with his glass still held aloft.

“Yes,” said Phillips. “Cheers. People spend entire lifetimes waiting for a discovery like this. It hardly seems fair that it should happen to one so inexperienced. Nonetheless, here’s to you, my dear.”