An Air That Kills Read Free Page B

know?’
    â€˜My dad used to be sexton up at St John’s.’ Evans put the piece of china in his trouser pocket. ‘They were always turning up stuff like that. Old vicar used to say what it was sometimes.’
    He turned away and told Frank to bring the wheelbarrow in. Charlie thought Evans seemed embarrassed and annoyed – as if he’d made a confidence he hadn’t intended to make.
    â€˜Come on,’ Evans said to no one in particular. ‘We’ll have to dig it out. Let’s get on with it.’
    â€˜A shithouse?’ Charlie said. ‘No wonder the rats like it.’
    â€˜Not much here for them now. I reckon this place hasn’t been used as a privy for years. Looks like they’ve been dumping builders’ rubbish since the battle of Waterloo.’
    They shovelled earth, bricks and small stones into the wheelbarrow. At intervals, Frank pushed the barrow away and dumped the spoil in the corner of the yard. Charlie noticed that he was going through the contents of the heap with the tip of his spade.
    â€˜What are you looking for?’
    â€˜Never know your luck, eh?’ Frank said. ‘Mate of mine in Bristol had a job digging out an old privy. Found a gold sovereign down there.’
    Emrys Hughes looked up sharply. ‘I reckon we should take turns with the barrow.’
    â€˜You’re paid to work,’ Evans said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. ‘If you want to look for buried treasure, you do it in your own time.’
    Frank shied away as though Evans had hit him. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean—’
    â€˜Just shut up.’ Evans turned away. He nodded to Charlie: ‘Get hold of the end of that beam.’
    They had uncovered a worm-eaten and roughly squared length of timber which lay diagonally across the opening to the chamber with one end against the rear wall. It was nearly a foot beneath the level of the flagstones. Charlie pushed his shovel underneath and used it to lever it out of its bed of earth. Another rat darted out and ran over the handle of the shovel. With sudden ferocity, Evans brought down his own shovel on the rat as it was running for the doorway. Charlie glanced down at the inert bundle of fur. It was beginning to ooze blood over the grey flagstone.
    â€˜That’s old, that is,’ Evans said calmly, nodding towards the beam. ‘Cut by hand, look. Maybe it fell in there when the roof caved in.’
    He pushed his shovel under the beam. He and Charlie eased it away from its resting place.
    â€˜What’s that?’ Charlie said. He pointed at what looked like a wooden box, about eighteen inches long and twelve inches wide, which lay beside the wall. The beam had masked it completely. He scrambled over to the box: it was no more than six inches deep, and the wood was peppered with wormholes.
    â€˜Bring it here,’ Evans ordered.
    Charlie shrugged, guessing that if there was anything worth finding, Evans intended to have a claim to it. He picked up the box and discovered that it had been lying upside down. The lid was still embedded in the earth. He passed the box to Evans and picked up the lid. There was a scrap of paper on it, some earth and a few fragments of bone.
    â€˜I’ll have that too.’
    Holding the lid as though it were a tray, Charlie handed it to Evans. The foreman poked the collection of objects with a blunt finger. He picked up a handful of earth and crumbled it; inside was a piece of blackened and twisted metal which he tapped on the palm of his hand.
    â€˜Look,’ Evans said. ‘There’s a pin on the back. Some kind of brooch, maybe.’
    He scraped at it with his fingernail and some more of the dry, powdery earth dropped away, revealing a shape like a squat figure of eight with a pair of prongs projecting from each of two opposite sides. The other three men had gathered round but, with a wave of his hand, he pushed them away.
    â€˜You’re