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Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account. It has simply vanished from the records. Now, so much for the history lesson, I have obtained permission from our esteemed council for a low key excavation to be undertaken in the grounds of Sarony House because, being the old romantic that I am, I have always believed in the existence of this treasure.
However, because it is such a tentative matter I have been able to wheedle only a miserly amount of finance from the Trustees, and in short I want you to head up this little exploration whilst Rod McEwan is digging holes in Wales.
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It is a small project and will require a good degree of careful planning. It does of course promise to be a complete waste of time but, on the other hand, it will afford you valuable experience as project leader. Should you find any clue so far as the Sarony Treasure is concerned I promise to let you follow it through and reap any professional rewards that may result.
You can call on department resources and personnel so far as is reasonable, at least until the Welsh dig commences, so you have a limited amount of time before you are down to the, um, bare bones. Anna Freemont was undoubtedly attractive and intelligent, yet if asked to describe her, those qualities whilst inevitably being mentioned, were always accompanied by comments such as 'a bit up herself', 'snooty', and 'thinks she's God's gift to archaeology'. Unfortunately, she did not possess a personality that sent out the same signals as her appearance, and a tendency towards being domineering and opinionated had restricted her catches when it came to more meaningful relationships than one night stands.
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Maybe it was purely a matter of natural compensation that, having been blessed with an outward appearance most women would kill for, and most men were initially captivated by, she had never felt properly at ease with the world at large. Over her twenty-six years of life there had developed a prickly nature that in adulthood sharpened - often with good reason - to a suspicious view of the male of the species, and a stilted ability to relax in social situations.
Now, a week after her meeting with the Professor she strode down College Road towards Grantfield High Street accompanied by a thin faced, red haired man who, being slightly shorter than his companion, needed to occasionally break into a scamper in order to keep pace with her longer strides.
Anna Freemont in full sail was an attractive sight with her long legs sheathed in tight beige jeans. A close fitting top overlaid by an expensive leather bolero style jacket served to emphasise how mother-nature appears to have a penchant for unfairly playing favourites, when distributing those physical assets deemed desirable in the pursuit of an idyllic life.
Anna Freemont in a fury was something not only to behold but to be avoided at all costs. It mattered not that the unwilling recipient of her hostility was also her flat mate, landlord, and would-be lover. Rodney Fergus McEwan was not overly fond of the English, due in part to his Scottish Nationalist sympathies, but mainly from a perceived need to excuse himself from having been born and brought up in Surrey.
His hair colour and pale complexion betrayed his ancestry and his slight build -he thought of himself as wiry - was counterbalanced by a hot temper that on past occasions had led him into unwise confrontations. Of course, true perfection was rarely attainable, but it had happened to appear in his corner of the academic world in the shape of Anna Freemont.
As luck would have it the new senior assistant had been looking for accommodation and Rod possessed a two bedroomed flat. As a result, he acquired a paying tenant who looked like the ultimate personification of his most optimistic dreams, and the opportunity to transform a commercial relationship into something that would make people really notice Rod McEwan.
Unfortunately, the object of his life-fulfilling dream appeared impervious to his romantic overtures, and to make matters worse he had now blundered into her bad books due to this pointless Sarony Treasure hunt.
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Why bloody Smithson-Hunt had dreamed up the daft project when his own first major site assignment was imminent he didn't know, but he resented the reminder that he was actually the junior just as the promised Welsh project was about to commence. As a consequence, he had sulked and put in the bare minimum of effort, resulting in the oversight that had so infuriated Anna. Her boots squelched unpleasantly in the ooze seeping across the temporary pedestrian walkway that bounded the building site dedicated to the erection of another Tesco store.
Her ringing tones could be heard quite clearly berating the luckless redhead as the couple halted due to her suddenly rounding on her companion with the words. This is the first site assignment that Smithson-Hunt has given me to head up, and you seem to be doing your best to balls it up for me.
As the redhead spluttered with indignation neither of them had noticed the group of site workers standing smoking just where they had halted.
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A well-proportioned blond and someone named 'Rod' were manna from heaven to this happy band and they were not slow to take advantage of such an opportunity. Anna's temper snapped and she threw an extravagant V sign at the hecklers accompanied by the instruction to Piss Off at full volume, before storming around the corner and into the high street, followed by a cacophony of jeers and whistles.
By the time Rod caught up with her she was almost at the pub and his plaintive Anna, please, I'm sorry again brought her to a halt. As luck would have it they had stopped by yet another building operation, although this one seemed concerned with road repairs and was attended by only one man. Even so, as Anna said Sorry is all very well Rod, but what the hell are our chances of getting hold of a digger at this late stage? That's why I suggested coming here to The Magpie. It gets a lot of trade from the local building fraternity and we may be able to hire someone at short notice.
It was at this point that the road worker said something to them that was largely drowned out by a passing bus. She flashed him a warning glare and turned her attention back to the redhead but, to her amazement, the man refused to take the hint and actually tapped her on the shoulder. Her ragged temper gave way, it was bad enough having to endure the verbal attacks, without one of these characters putting his grubby paws on her.
What was it with these sad specimens from the building trade that they assumed they had the right to harass any woman they set their eyes on? She spun back to face her antagonist, took a pace towards him, said very loudly and slowly. The interior reflected the style of bygone years with low ceilings, dark wood and three separate bars acknowledging the need to cater for varied categories of customer.
The absence of the old smoke laden atmosphere was probably the sole improvement, and crusty bread sandwiches still held sway over the invading hordes of tired pizzas and tasteless chips that were relentlessly pushed across many bars. Once inside they quickly found a table in the saloon bar and Rod, who had often fantasised about swaggering into the pub with Anna on his arm, brought over their drinks before heading back to the bar and engaging the barman in conversation.
Sitting alone, Anna was conscious of the admiring glances she attracted from some of the younger male customers who wondered how the man they referred to as 'Prof' had managed to attract a woman who looked as if she had all the attributes required to decorate the pages of a glossy magazine. The interest quickly waned as Rod returned and with exaggerated intimacy leaned towards her and confided Luckily the barman is a bit of a friend, and I think we may be in luck.
He says one of his customers runs his own small digger-hire business and he's expecting him to look in for a pint at any time. He smiled triumphantly You see now Anna why I make a point of cultivating friendships outside the world of academia. She hated it when Rod assumed this pompous, self-congratulatory, tone and couldn't resist replying And there was I thinking you just liked to feel superior as an academic among manual workers, and had the satisfaction of seeing his pale face take on a reddish hue.
The moment was cut short by a shout from the bar Hey Prof, that bloke's just come into the other bar. I'll send him round to see you. Is that what they call you in here? But Rod who was enjoying his heightened status ignored her derision, waved an acknowledging hand in a lordly manner and smirked at Anna, little realising that his afternoon was about to take a very unexpected turn. Anna looked up as she became aware of the figure purposefully heading their way.