Harriet Strikes Again

Stinky opened his mouth, but Harriet firmly stepped in. She wasn’t having any of that sort of nonsense.

“It’s a historical site. It’s bound to have things in it. And anything you dig up,” she added, “is yours to keep.”

“So I should hope,” said Wendy. “Not going to all the trouble of digging things up just for someone else, am I?”

Salim Khan was the next to arrive. Salim was carrying a proper fork and bucket, and looked as if he meant business.

“What’s the bucket for?” said Harriet.

“To take away the treasure and the remains.”

“Remain.” Stinky said it weakly. He was beginning to foresee that there might be trouble.

Other people began to arrive – Gerry Mander and Hake-Face Heneghan with garden spades almost bigger than they were, Alison Leary and Snobby Clark with rubber gloves and a dustpan and brush because Alison (who always knew everything) said that when you were on historical digs you didn’t dig, you brushed and swept and, “felt with your fingers. Otherwise you could ruin things. And historical isn’t spelt like you’ve spelt it, and neither is buried and neither is treasure.”

“Yes, and you mean site spelt s-i-t-e, not sight like you’ve got it,” said Snobby.

Harriet would have liked to say something rude but she needed them to help with the hole, so she simply stretched her lips into a sickly smile and said, “You might as well be in charge as you know so much about it.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” said Alison. “I’ll direct the digging. If anyone finds anything, they must come to me.”

“If I find anything,” said a red-haired girl whose name Harriet didn’t know, “I’m keeping it. And I jolly well better had find something,” she added, in threatening tones. “I didn’t come here just for the fun of it.”

Harriet had met the red-haired girl before. She had turned up at a beautiful baby competition that Harriet had organised and had been nothing but a disagreeable nuisance.

“Some people,” said Alison, rather loudly, to Snobby, “obviously do not understand the purpose of a historical dig. We are hoping to uncover important artefacts whose rightful place will be in the British Museum.”

There was a silence.

“Historical what?” said Hake-face.

“Artichokes, or something.” The red-head was already down on her knees, tunnelling furiously with a trowel and a hand fork. “Don’t take any notice of her, she’s batty.”

Alison breathed, deeply. “Objects that we uncover will not belong to us. They’ll belong to the Crown.”

“Who says?”

“I do!”

“And who are you when you’re at home?”

“I am in charge of this dig,” said Alison.

“Yeah, and I’m a blue banana!” The red-head was scattering earth in all directions.

A flying gobbet hit Harriet in the eye. Stinky looked at her, helplessly. The dig had only just begun and already it was out of control!

Slowly, and with great dignity, Harriet rose to her feet.

“This garden is Stinky’s garden and whatever anyone finds belongs to Stinky. But–” she said it hastily, before the red-head could start throwing more earth at her – “Stinky has very generously decided that whatever anyone finds he’s going to let them keep.”

“That’s not the law!” shouted Alison.

“It is in this garden,” said Harriet.

By lunch time the hole was really beginning to look like a hole. Several people had dug up old pennies, Hake-face had found an interesting stone which he thought might be a fossil and Wendy had uncovered a house brick.

There had been great excitement over the house brick. Alison and Snobby had gone rushing over with their dustpan and brush, screaming at Wendy not to touch it in case it might be an ancient remain. They now thought that probably it wasn’t, but it had given them all fresh hope and the determination to carry on.

“After all, we haven’t really found anything yet,” said the red-haired girl. “I don’t call a few old pennies buried treasure. And I don’t call a mouldy old house brick ancient remains, either.”

“Remain,” said Stinky, feebly.

The girl tossed her head. “Yes,” she said, “I’m going to, and I’d just better find something!”

“You mean you’re not going home for lunch?” said Harriet.

“I’m going to stay right here,” said Red-head, “and dig till I find something. And if I don’t –”

If she didn’t, there would be trouble.

“Now what are we going to do?” whispered Stinky. They could hardly bury the Ancient Tin in full view of Red-head. “I knew this was a rotten idea!”

“You’re crazy,” said Harriet. “It’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

By the end of the afternoon the hole was going to be plenty big enough to stand up in. Tomorrow they could put down their lino and buy their plastic sheeting, and by the weekend they could take up residence. Mum could complain all she liked about Harriet’s bedroom being a pigsty. Stinky’s mum could praise Goody-goody Giles to the skies. Harriet and Stinky would be tucked away in their underground home!

“She’ll get really ratty,” worried Stinky, “if she doesn’t find anything.”

“Think I care?” said Harriet.

“Just better be something,” muttered Red-head.

Fortunately, there was. Alison found a piece of pottery which she was convinced was Roman, Hake-face dug up another fossil and someone else found an interesting-looking bone which was almost certainly prehistoric.

“Dinosaur or something, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

At the last minute, while everyone was busy admiring the prehistoric dinosaur bone, Harriet managed to bury the Ancient Tin. Stinky waited anxiously for Red-head to uncover it. Would an Ancient Tin satisfy her? Or would she throw a tantrum and say it came from Sainsbury’s?

“Hey!” Red-head sat back triumphantly on her heels. “Look what I’ve got!”

Everyone turned to look. It wasn’t the Ancient Tin, but a small blue bottle with a glass stopper.

“That has to be ancient,” said Harriet. “That is a really good find.”

“Mm … it’s all right, I suppose.” Red-head, even now, tended to be grudging. “I don’t expect it’s worth much, but it’s quite pretty.” She held it up to the light. “I could always give it to my mum.”

“What a nice idea,” gushed Harriet.