Nate glanced at her, but she was studiously typing with her phone propped under her chin.
‘Can you forward me the details for the next outdoor cinema? I just want to double check the food provision.’
Nate looked at the list of finds in front of him, tuning out Laurel’s work chatter. They were getting deeper, and now he knew there weren’t any significant Victorian discoveries, he was close to getting Hector back in to say it would be difficult to dig deeper trenches, but then do it amazingly right.
‘Nate, do you want to?’ Laurel interrupted.
‘Huh?’ He was way too invested in assessing how deep his next trenches needed to go.
‘Robin’s organising some kind of night out tonight at the Dog & Gun with the students and the farm workers. Sylvie was asking if you wanted to go?’ Laurel said. ‘It’s probably because Robin’s got his eye on one of your students and Sylvie is always up for a night out. I don’t know who’s going, or anything,’ she gabbled.
‘Oh right.’
It would be interesting to see Casual Laurel, Social Laurel. ‘Are you going?
She shrugged and turned her eyes to her computer.
‘I don’t know, I suppose I should, you know, show willing and all.’
A smile tugged at his lips. ‘I’ll go if you go,’ he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
She regarded him carefully. ‘Is that a challenge, Dr Daley?’
Nate laughed. ‘No, no. I’d rather be with you, than against you.’
‘Hmm.’ She made a show of considering his statement, then shrugged casually. ‘Okay, yeah, alright.’
‘Good.’
That was settled. Him and Laurel, a group of pent up twenty-somethings and alcohol. What could possibly go wrong?
Nate ran a hand through his hair. It was too long for his liking. He’d like to have it cut before they went out, but there was no time.
As always, Nate ignored the first buzz of his smartwatch but fished his phone out of his pocket on the second and answered his masters student. ‘Anwar?’
Anwar didn’t even say hello, but gasped, ‘You need to come, now, right now.’
The urgency in his voice was palpable.
He shot to his feet, chair clattering overturned on the floor. ‘What have you found? What is it, Anwar?’
‘Metal. Old, old metal with a coloured stone. Dr Daley, it’s old. You need to come, now.’
‘Don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.’ Nate was already halfway out of the door before he glanced back at Laurel standing behind her desk, eyes pleading. ‘Come on then,’ he said, anxiously waving his hand at her.
Nate had never seen Laurel move so fast as she flew from behind the desk, grabbed the green wellies by the door and hurried after him down the corridor.
‘What is it?’ she asked breathlessly. She was striding fast to keep up with him as he flew down the stairs.
‘Metal, a coloured stone. Old,’ he said, mind racing. It could be a brooch, a necklace. He hoped it wouldn’t be a one off, that it could signify the preliminary finds of a burial site or a horde. If it was either of those, it would make his career, so much more than the flash in the pan Pictish Stylus. It would mean years of work, years of funding for the university. He would be secure and safe in exciting discoveries for the rest of his life.
Nate tapped his fingers on his leg restlessly by the back door whilst Laurel fiddled with the buckles on her funny shoes, before sliding her feet into those green wellies.
Laurel darted off in the complete opposite direction to the dig site. God give him strength.
‘Where are you going?’ he called.
‘Comeon, do you want to get there or not?’ she threw over her shoulder at him. Frustrated, he jogged after her, around the back of the building and into a parking area.
