Read Online Friends of the Dusk by Phil Rickman - Free Book Online Page A

temporary fencing, had now been filled in. ‘How old
were
they?’
    ‘Probably medieval. Look, Jane, I—’
    ‘Well preserved?’
    ‘Not bad.’
    ‘What do they suggest?’
    ‘Suggest someone was buried here.’
    ‘Just the one person?’
    He had his phone out, body language for
bugger off, Jane.
    ‘No, like, grave goods or anything?’
    Coops shook his head, finger-scrolling on the phone.
    ‘Jane, I need to get back.’
    ‘Got pictures of the bones on there, Coops?’
    ‘No, I haven’t. He palmed the phone. ‘I’ve a meeting that’s been brought forward, OK?’
    ‘Could it be someone important?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘The bones.’
    ‘Jane—’
    ‘Well, obviously not
that
important. Sorry. Just some monk, then.’
    ‘Look.’ He lowered his phone. ‘It’s not exactly unusual for bones to be found here. It’s an historic place – castle, ancient churches, holy well, et cetera. Behind the Cathedral we’ve turned up graveyard on top of graveyard. It would be wonderful to have a huge, definitive excavation, but that’s not going to happen any sooner than digging up your village to see if it was built inside a neolithic henge.’
    ‘Can I see them?’
    ‘No! We’ve put them into store. In our… municipal ossuary.’ Probably meaning some old shed. ‘Jane, this is
routine.
It’s not… not the start of something. I’m sorry.’
    If it was routine, what was
he
doing here, the head guy, when it was all over bar the chainsaw massacre?
    ‘So no jobs here then,’ Jane said. ‘No making tea for archaeologists, emptying barrows, sieving soil. Listening to them moaning about all the false starts, lack of money, backbiting, constant competition for work…’
    ‘Are you
sure
this is what you want to do?’
    ‘I
want
…’ Jane’s fists were tightening in frustration. ‘… to have seen enough sides of the job to make a firm decision about whether that’s how I want to spend my working life till I’m too stricken with arthritis to pick up a bloody trowel.’
    He smiled.
    ‘You mean until you settle down and have kids.’
    ‘Piss off, Coops, I’m never going to have kids. Overpopulation – biggest problem facing the world. Which the short-sighted pondlife we call politicians never seem to notice. Can’t be long before they lower the voting age to ten.’
    ‘OK.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll ask around. I take it you got on with them OK? The guys at the dig?’
    ‘They were… fine.’
    ‘Tend to drink a lot of beer. Probably just as well your boyfriend…?’
    ‘Eirion.’
    ‘Of course. Just as well he was with you.’
    ‘Yes.’
    For the first month, anyway, until he had to go back to uni. Which was when she’d started going to the pub with the guys who really knew how to put away the booze. Not all of it happy booze. Maybe it was seeing so many dead bodies, evidence of cheap life. They were like,
Fuck it, this is how we all wind up, so let’s just get hammered.
    And have sex,
oh God.
    ‘You OK, Jane?’
    ‘Fine.’
    Jane turned away.
    ‘Anyway, leave it with me,’ Coops said. ‘No promises, and if you do get something there might not be much money in it.’
    ‘No. Whatever. Thanks.’
    Coops walked away up the bank to the path that led to the huddle of narrow old murky-brick streets below the Cathedral. The sky was turning salmon, the sun coming out only to set. The atmosphere was all wrong.
    Blinking back tears, she walked up the bank on to the footpath, looking down over the filled-in, empty grave. A chainsaw started up somewhere, then another, echoes multiplying across the Castle Green, sounding airborne, like a dogfight from one of those ancient Battle of Britain movies. Jane thought she’d shuddered, but it was the mobile in her jeans.
    She pulled it out – still nervous every time the phone went, scared the screen might say SAM.
    It said EIRION.
    Jane switched off the phone, walked rapidly away towards what used to be the centre of the city. Coming out of narrow Quay Street, she