Humpty's Bones by Simon Clark Page B

that comes along.’
    ‘Heather, that’s not fair.’
    ‘Okay. A deal. You stop telling Curtis that werewolves are laying siege to the house. I’ll lay off your rotten choice of one-night stands.’
    Heather glared at Eden in such a way that suggested she’d dash the coffee in her face if she disagreed. What choice do I have? Eden asked herself. If I don’t back off I’ll end up on the train before the day’s out. I’ve nowhere else to go. Eden felt wronged by her Uncle and Aunt - the suggestion that she’d deliberately tried to scare Curtis into abandoning Dog Star House infuriated her - yet even after all this she knew she had no choice.
    Eden took a deep breath. ‘I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. Thanks again for asking me to stay here.’ Even so, she couldn’t back down completely: she couldn’t surrender control over her own life entirely. She added with a splash of defiance, ‘And I wasn’t trying to steal your home from you.’
    ‘Good. We have an understanding.’ Heather’s voice softened. ‘Thanks for the coffee, by the way.’ She nodded at the pit. ‘It’s like working in a fridge down there.’
    Small talk. At least Heather was trying to mend bridges, too.

    Eden leaned over the hole. The stench made her flinch. Wet earth. Decay. Burning. Something else that suggested a heavy sweetness. Talk about unwholesome. Even so, for some inexplicable reason the thick scent took her back to that Tuscan villa with its otherworldly atmosphere. ‘Making any progress?’
    ‘Just trying to get back to where I was when I finished work last night. See the far side? Yesterday’s rain caused part of it to collapse. I’ve got to lift out all the muck that’s fallen into the bottom before I can start excavating again. And just when I’d reached the floor of a building, too.’
    ‘Any more bones?’
    ‘No.’ Heather said the word a little too curtly, as if to dissuade Eden from reopening the dog-boy debate.
    Oh, blood’s thicker than water, Eden told herself. Prove to Heather you’re useful. ‘If you want, I could scoop out the dirt for you.’
    This offer surprised Heather. ‘Really?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘That would be a great help.’ She sounded genuinely grateful. ‘I’ve got to recheck the garden centre’s accounts.’
    ‘Just tell me what to do.’
    ‘You will get your hands dirty.’
    ‘No problem. I scrub up well.’
    ‘Use the little ladder to climb down into the excavation. The sides are so soft you’ll bring the lot down if you try to climb in or out any other way. There’s a plastic bowl to shift the goo. I’d have suggested a spade normally but it might damage any finds. If you gently - gently, mind - scoop the debris out onto that plastic sheet. I can throw it into the flower beds once I’ve sieved it for hidden goodies. Sound good to you?’
    Eden set to work. When she was standing in the grave pit, which once housed Humpty’s bones, the ground was level with her shoulders. It took more effort than she’d appreciated to scoop wet mud into the bowl then stretch up and out of the hole to tip it onto the pile already started by Heather on the plastic sheet.

    ‘How will I know when to stop?’ Eden asked.
    ‘When you’re down to the hard surface. The floor of the building consists of stone slabs. I want you to go gently because they might have carvings, which could be fragile by now. Also, there’s a slim chance there will be more tiles, too; maybe if we’re really lucky a mosaic.’
    After that, Heather returned to the house to her accountancy work. Eden worked hard to remove the invading mud. Yet her imagination still concocted fantasy portraits of dog-headed boys. She suspected they might once more creep into her dreams tonight. And, if they did, what marvellous secrets might they whisper into her ear as she slept?

9. Tuesday Morning: 11.30
     
     
    A mound of soil that doesn’t look particularly large can be surprisingly difficult to move. Especially when it