boring it was. A bit like death.
When a police car roared past he flattened himself against the hedge and the twisted branches grabbed at his coat. He brushed
them off and carried on walking, his footsteps slowing as he neared the Rectory gate.
If he let himself in quietly he could get his metal detector from his room without his mum and Shane knowing. He’d do a bit
of detecting in one of the fields on the other side of the lane before the light went, anything rather than go home and face
Shane’s unpredictable temper. And he’d heard of people finding hoards worth millions so there was the chance that he might
find some treasure that would earn him a fortune so he could get a place of his own. With Shane around, that couldn’t come
a moment too soon.
He opened the front door and crept upstairs on tiptoe to dump his school bag in his bedroom and retrieve his metal detector,
along with the small trowel he’d pinched from the garden shed. He carried them downstairs and shut the front door carefully
behind him. Once outside he ran down the drive and when he glanced back, he half expected to see an angry face watching him
from the window. But it seemed his arrival and swift departure had gone unnoticed so he carried on past the gate and walked
towards Jessop’s Farm.
He didn’t know the farmer – his mum and Shane had never had anything to do with him – but he’d seen him on his tractor with
his sheepdog sitting up beside him, a brownand white border collie with keen eyes and an intelligent face. Alex would have loved a dog of his own, a creature to keep
him company and greet him with a wagging tail and an unconditional love he felt he’d never known. But Shane hated animals.
He was almost at the farm gate now and he could see a bored-looking constable standing there on guard. He ignored him and
hurried on, taking a left turn down a narrow lane. When he’d gone a few yards he saw a pair of gateposts on his left, one
leaning at a precarious angle. Beyond the gateway was a dark tunnel of bushes and trees, bending over the drive, blocking
out the light as if it was a place of permanent night. Alex knew this was the witch’s house. They’d been talking about it
at school. People had gone in there and never come out.
He stood for a few moments, staring in horrified fascination. But he knew this wasn’t somewhere you hung about if you were
alone.
He went a little further down the lane and when he spotted a metal farm gate to his right he stopped and leaned on it, gazing
into the field beyond. This was somewhere he hadn’t detected before; virgin territory potentially full of precious things:
coins, golden torques and Viking silver hoards. There were grazing cows in there, black and white and vaguely menacing. When
he climbed onto the first rung of the gate the cows continued chewing like a gang of bored youngsters hanging around the village
bus shelter. Alex knew how they felt.
He lowered the detector down carefully onto the grass on the field side of the gate before clambering over, keeping a wary
eye on the cows who seemed to be edging nearer … or maybe that was his imagination. He switched on themachine and for a while he was disappointed when the low whine didn’t change pitch as he swept it over the ground. But in
the detecting game patience was everything.
There was a patch of bare soil to the right of the gate, which looked as if it had been disturbed by something, wild animals
maybe. Alex’s idle curiosity got the better of him and when he passed the detector over the area, it began to scream. He crouched
down to investigate with his trowel and when he’d dug down a couple of inches, he saw a glint of shiny metal so he carried
on, heart beating, hands trembling with anticipation.
When he’d finished digging he pulled the object out and placed it on the grass. It was a knife, sharp and lethal. And the
smooth surface of the blade was crusted with
When a police car roared past he flattened himself against the hedge and the twisted branches grabbed at his coat. He brushed
them off and carried on walking, his footsteps slowing as he neared the Rectory gate.
If he let himself in quietly he could get his metal detector from his room without his mum and Shane knowing. He’d do a bit
of detecting in one of the fields on the other side of the lane before the light went, anything rather than go home and face
Shane’s unpredictable temper. And he’d heard of people finding hoards worth millions so there was the chance that he might
find some treasure that would earn him a fortune so he could get a place of his own. With Shane around, that couldn’t come
a moment too soon.
He opened the front door and crept upstairs on tiptoe to dump his school bag in his bedroom and retrieve his metal detector,
along with the small trowel he’d pinched from the garden shed. He carried them downstairs and shut the front door carefully
behind him. Once outside he ran down the drive and when he glanced back, he half expected to see an angry face watching him
from the window. But it seemed his arrival and swift departure had gone unnoticed so he carried on past the gate and walked
towards Jessop’s Farm.
He didn’t know the farmer – his mum and Shane had never had anything to do with him – but he’d seen him on his tractor with
his sheepdog sitting up beside him, a brownand white border collie with keen eyes and an intelligent face. Alex would have loved a dog of his own, a creature to keep
him company and greet him with a wagging tail and an unconditional love he felt he’d never known. But Shane hated animals.
He was almost at the farm gate now and he could see a bored-looking constable standing there on guard. He ignored him and
hurried on, taking a left turn down a narrow lane. When he’d gone a few yards he saw a pair of gateposts on his left, one
leaning at a precarious angle. Beyond the gateway was a dark tunnel of bushes and trees, bending over the drive, blocking
out the light as if it was a place of permanent night. Alex knew this was the witch’s house. They’d been talking about it
at school. People had gone in there and never come out.
He stood for a few moments, staring in horrified fascination. But he knew this wasn’t somewhere you hung about if you were
alone.
He went a little further down the lane and when he spotted a metal farm gate to his right he stopped and leaned on it, gazing
into the field beyond. This was somewhere he hadn’t detected before; virgin territory potentially full of precious things:
coins, golden torques and Viking silver hoards. There were grazing cows in there, black and white and vaguely menacing. When
he climbed onto the first rung of the gate the cows continued chewing like a gang of bored youngsters hanging around the village
bus shelter. Alex knew how they felt.
He lowered the detector down carefully onto the grass on the field side of the gate before clambering over, keeping a wary
eye on the cows who seemed to be edging nearer … or maybe that was his imagination. He switched on themachine and for a while he was disappointed when the low whine didn’t change pitch as he swept it over the ground. But in
the detecting game patience was everything.
There was a patch of bare soil to the right of the gate, which looked as if it had been disturbed by something, wild animals
maybe. Alex’s idle curiosity got the better of him and when he passed the detector over the area, it began to scream. He crouched
down to investigate with his trowel and when he’d dug down a couple of inches, he saw a glint of shiny metal so he carried
on, heart beating, hands trembling with anticipation.
When he’d finished digging he pulled the object out and placed it on the grass. It was a knife, sharp and lethal. And the
smooth surface of the blade was crusted with
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