‘He didn’t want to start trying last night, did he?’ Laurel asked, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Oh god, I don’t know why I asked that, please don’t tell me. I do not want to think about my brother having sex.’
Rebecca snorted a laugh. ‘I’ve got my period so no sexy times, thank you very much.’
Laurel looked at her best friend earnestly.
‘Rebecca, you don’t have to have another baby if you don’t want one. You are not being selfish,’ Laurel said. ‘You are allowed the life you want right now. If you change your mind in a few years, then you change your mind.’
‘If I do change my mind, which I won’t, I would be too old anyway,’ Rebecca said, grumpily.
‘You won’t be, but if you are then there are other options. Adoption, fostering, surrogacy.’ Laurel shrugged. ‘Besides, maybe you’ll get to be the best aunt in the world.’
Rebecca raised an eyebrow at her.
‘Robin may knock up some girl from town.’
Rebecca laughed out loud.
Chapter Eight
Nate
Nate forced one foot in front of the other up the little hill on the outskirts of Lower Houghton. He really wasn’t in the mood for running, but he could not stand to be in the bunkhouse. Anwar was not a delight to be around, and he was monopolising both the bathroom and the tiny sofa in the living area with his hangover.
Besides, running would burn off some of his frustration and disappointment.
Nate slowed to a walk on the second buzz of his smartwatch and wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. He glanced around quickly to check no one was nearby and pulled his running top off. God, the slight breeze on his bare skin was so good. His watch buzzed again and he yanked his phone out of his arm pouch.
‘Paul, mate, how are you? How’s France?’ Nate asked, grinning down the phone at his old friend.
‘Nathanial, my man! Good to hear your voice,’ Paul said exuberantly.
It had been months since they’d talked. Text and email just wasn’t the same.
‘France is amazing, it’s perfect. It’s hot and sunny, and there are finds galore. I’ll be on this site at least another year.’
‘That’s fantastic, Paul, really good.’ Nate continued a slow walk up the hill. ‘Funding extended?’
‘Yep, funding extended,’ Paul hesitated. ‘Actually, that’s the reason I’ve called.’
Hmm.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah, I’m looking for a university partnership and of course you, Dr Daley, are my first and best choice,’ Paul said.
Nate stood still, blinking in surprise. ‘You want me in France? Looking for Cathar treasure?’
‘Yeah.’
Nate was silent for a moment. Everyone knew that there wasn’t really any lost Cathar treasure buried amongst the mountains of the Languedoc in the south of France. But it was a magical place, romantic with a hint of supernatural religious mythology. And it was the south of France.
‘Listen, don’t say anything now. I’m going to send you the documentation, the site location, everything we’ve found so far. You know the drill,’ Paul said. ‘You must get loads of promotional packages begging you to come on site.’
It was true, he’d received a multitude of offers in the first few years after the Pictish Stylus paper, but recently they’d waned.
Paul carried on, ‘I’m coming back for Jess and Owen’s summer barbecue. You’ll be there, right? We can talk more then?’
‘Yeah, I’m going.’ There was no harm in having a chat. ‘Okay, yeah, let’s have a conversation.’
