Chapter Twenty
Nate
Nate was sweating under his shirt collar.
‘Relax, Nate, you’re doing well,’ Laurel whispered to him as they moved from one group of academics to another.
‘Are you sure? Is it going alright?’ he asked anxiously. No matter how many of these he did, his heart still beat hard against his chest, and his voice seemed sluggish and strange.
Laurel nodded. ‘It’s going perfectly, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Having Laurel on his arm whilst talking with funders, industry professionals and university members was incredibly calming. She was convivial, friendly and engaging, the perfect partner in selling both the site and her farm.
Alex, however, had studiously kept as far away as he could, mingling with people at a very precise ninety-degree angle from him and Laurel, wearing a mismatched blue jacket with crumpled black trousers. Didn’t he even own an iron?
‘I knew you and Nathanial here would find something brilliant, Lauren,’ Professor Rowlands was saying.
‘Professor, thank you, but it really was all Nate and his team,’ she said, squeezing his arm gently.
‘Well, I think you make a very good team together,’ the old Professor said warmly.
‘Alright, Ivor, we’ll be moving on now, before you try and steal my girlfriend,’ he said, giving him a wink.
‘Yes, yes, off you go. Mingle. Don’t forget to speak to the Chair of the University. Make sure she knows how important this site is,’ Ivor said sagely, before wandering off to the tea and coffee table, manned by one of the cafe’s immaculately dressed staff.
‘You should go and speak to them,’ Laurel said, but he really didn’t want to let go of her. She was his safety blanket here in this annoying academic-slash-corporate world.
‘Nate, I need to go and make sure Robin isn’t hitting on anyone inappropriate.’
‘Alright, but if I give you the look, you need to come and rescue me,’ he said, giving her a brief kiss.
‘You don’t need rescuing, Dr Daley. This is all you,’ she said, and his chest swelled at her belief in him.
Laurel wandered off into the melee to look for Robin, and Nate took stock before heading into battle. Alex was still pointedly at a right angle from him, across the large conference room, near the table with all of Nate’s publications.
To obtain funding, you had to put on a show, and people bought into the person rather than the site. If that person (or persons) had a very well-received, famous even, paper that had led to television appearances, that had possibly altered the collective thought of how, say, the Picts were perceived, then it did well to have that spread out everywhere. Nate had managed to rein that in to one table by the coffee and tea area, with the backdrop picture of the stylus and the dig site, rather than the backdrop picture of him and Alex sitting on the breakfast TV sofa Jess had organised.
There were his lesser-known papers as well, his PhD dissertation, his journal articles, his body of work. Yeah, he was proud of his work, his passion, but he didn’t want to flaunt it. The archaeology on the Little Willow site should speak for itself. He shouldn’t need to drag all his previous stuff out to sell the new dig.
‘Dr Daley, lovely to see you,’ the Chair of the University intoned as he reached the little group where she was holding court. ‘I am looking forward to your talk later. Well, in about ten minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Dr Daley will be presenting with his British Archaeological Liaison, Alexander Woollard, who is another one of our graduates. It’s so good to see our graduates out there, making a difference in the archaeological world,’ she went on.
There were brief introductions and Nate plastered a smile on his face that he knew was brittle and tight, but he hoped would do. He played the role as well as he could, answering their questions appropriately, talking up the university and the site, and trying to catch Laurel’s eye across the room without being too obvious about it. She would be much better at this. He could hear the tinkle of her laugh as she moved Robin towards Jack and Bill, away from a blushing Sylvie and the shabbily dressed archaeology students.
‘Ah, and here is our other eminent graduate, Alex,’ the Chair called. ‘Do join us.’
There was a hesitancy about Alex as he caught Nate’s eye and he glanced longingly at the publications table. He sauntered over to them.
‘Alex, how are you?’ Nate said, extending his hand.
He hadn’t spoken to Alex, except via terse and difficult work emails, since that ill-fated weekend barbeque at Jess and Owen’s, but there was no way Alex was going to drag him down to his level.
‘Good,’ Alex said, shaking his hand firmly, before turning to ask questions of the Chair and be introduced to the other members of the little group he had infiltrated.
Nate knew full well when he was being sidelined and frankly, he didn’t care one little bit. If that’s what Alex needed to do to make himself feel better, then that was absolutely fine. Nate was secure enough to not give a shit. His work, the site and the finds stood for themselves, and no matter how much Alex tried to make it about him, he was just a liaison. He didn’t pull anything out of the earth. Actually, he hadn’t done an awful lot. Alex was just the personification of the British Archaeological Society and yes, the backing of the Society pretty much guaranteed funding, but it could have been anyone. It just happened to be Alex.
Nate was listening to Alex drone on about the Society’s work and how invested he had been in the Little Willow dig site, when a hiss of feedback cut him off.
Laurel stood on the raised platform that served as a stage, a projector screen behind her and the table with his notes and laptop to her side.
‘Hello, and welcome to Little Willow Farm. I’m Laurel Fletcher, and this is our family’s farm.’ She beamed at the congregation. ‘It’s nearly time to welcome Dr Nate Daley and Alex Woollard to the stage to present the finds here at Little Willow, so please do take your seats.’
There was a bustle of movement as people meandered to the folding chairs put out before the stage. Laurel waited until people were settled before she continued.
‘I’d just like to let you know that there will be a buffet and drinks after the presentation, made on site with our local produce grown and farmed here at Little Willow. If you have any questions about the farm itself, please do have a chat with me, Robin, Jack or Bill over there.’ She pointed to the sheepish Fletcher men. Bill stood straight and stoic. Robin and Jack both shuffled nervously by their father’s side. Alex snorted and Nate shot him a warning glare.
Laurel caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you could put your hands together for Dr Nate Daley and Alex Woollard.’
Nate steeled himself and strode to the stage to tepid, academic applause, putting his coffee cup next to his laptop and accepting the microphone from Laurel. Alex followed shortly behind, taking some battered cards out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Laurel gave Nate a quick wink as she headed down the steps and to the back of the room.
He touched his laptop to bring it to life and checked that the title slide of his presentation was showing behind him.
‘Hello, everyone, and thank you to Laurel and the Fletcher family for welcoming us to their farm.’ There was scattered applause. ‘You’re all here to see what we’ve found here at Little Willow, so let’s get to it.’
Laurel
Nate was a brilliant speaker. He was clear, concise and perfectly paced. She knew he would be from the practice runs of his presentation, but it came across so much better in a well-fitted, dark suit (with a waistcoat that was causing her to melt into a small puddle), on a stage, over a microphone. He was damned sexy, with hints of grey at his temples and short stubble across his jawline. Flashes came from the photographer the University had hired, and she reminded herself to get a few of the pictures for advertising. Nate was calm and collected, and there was not a hint of nerves as he caught her eye. He winked with a sly smile that was meant just for her, but in full view of everyone.
There was applause as he finished his presentation. Yes, he may hate it, but if his reception was anything to go by, then people were going to be showering Nate with money. Provided Alex didn’t fuck it up.
Alex went next, the crumpled record cards he’d been shuffling during Nate’s speech awkward in his hands as he tried to use the mic. If Laurel had had any sympathy left for him at all, she would have been embarrassed at the car crash of his public speaking. Sure, it wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea and yeah, it was okay to be nervous. But Alex was badly prepared and badly presented. He obviously hadn’t been through his speech more than once, and that one time had been on stage, just now. Compared to Nate’s consummate performance, he was woefully inadequate. At least he had said the important words of ‘the BAS see the potential here and fully endorse this site’.
What. A. Relief.
The bumbling and badly toned jokes didn’t last very long and there was a small spatter of applause before Nate opened the floor for questions.
A raven-haired lady put her hand up. She was an academic.
‘Dr Daley, Mr Woollard, are we to expect another groundbreaking collaborative paper from the two of you?’
Nate laughed slightly. ‘Perhaps, Andrea. We haven’t discussed it.’
He and Alex hadn’t discussed it, because Alex hadn’t been answering his emails. Nate had told Laurel there was no way he was collaborating academically with Alex ever again. Never.
‘But the Pictish stylus paper was such a decisive change in how we look at the Picts, perhaps there is something on this site that you could use to change the thinking around Anglo-Saxons?’
Laurel rolled her eyes. For god’s sake, Andrea, just drop it.
‘I’m sure there are extremely interesting finds here and with further and better interpretation, I believe we will be able to add something individual and new to the existing body of work,’ Nate said, shutting her down, flicking his eyes to other members of the audience with their hands half-raised.
Laurel glanced at the publications table. She should probably read Nate and Alex’s paper on the Pictish stylus she found, see what it was that made it so special. Be a supportive and interested girlfriend.
She headed over to the table quietly and scanned the publication extracts, all neatly stapled in the corners before she found the one entitled ‘Refocusing Pictish Interpretations, Alex Woollard and Nate Daley’. Alex coughed loudly over his mic, but she ignored him and started reading, the questions continuing in the background.
There are scant historical artifacts that influence our interpretation of the Picts. In fact, the majority of our knowledge comes from heavily biased, negative Roman sources. But what if the Romans were wrong? What if the Romans didn’t understand Pictish society and let their prejudices of the tattooed, Viking-esque peoples prevent them from seeing any ‘modern’ development?
Huh, that seemed slightly familiar. From what she could remember from university, it didn’t seem as formal or dry as other academic papers.
The discovery of the stylus at Hadrian’s wall can illuminate the Picts in a different, more advanced light, an illumination that the Romans likely chose to ignore. The way in which the Romans invaded and conquered did not include the desire to learn from different cultures, but to dominate and assimilate. Thus, our commonly held idea that the Picts were ‘uneducated heathens’ likely comes from the Romans’ desire for uniformity and eradication of indigenous culture.
Something picked in the back of Laurel’s mind. Hadn’t the paper that she’d left in Nate’s pigeonhole all those years ago started similarly? Possibly, but more than one person can have the same idea. Didn’t she have all her university work saved in a long-forgotten file in her Dropbox? She’d check. Another cough from Alex over the mic. He really was awful at public speaking.
It took a while, but she finally found the paper, buried at the end of the ‘Uni Junk’ folder. It took a while to load, but there it was, entitled ‘Refocusing the Picts, Laurel Fletcher’. She scanned her eyes across the first paragraph, then frowned and read through it more carefully again.
It was the same.
Exactly. The. Same.
Laurel blinked a couple of times and refocused on both essays. There wasn’t a single word of difference between the two introductions. The whole premise of Nate’s superhero paper was based on her essay. The entire introduction had been lifted from her essay. The essay that she had written as an undergraduate. She’d been so proud when she’d written it, so nervous putting it in Nate’s pigeonhole with a note asking him to meet her for a drink to discuss her ideas. Instead of having a constructive discussion and giving her feedback, he had sent Alex to humiliate her and then committed the cardinal academic sin.
He’d stolen her work. Stolen the work of an undergraduate and passed it off as his own.
It was a coup that a Masters student had come up with such a comprehensive essay, but an undergraduate? Unheard of.
Laurel flicked the pages of Nate’s essay to the end to check the conclusion and compared it with hers. It was completely different, with better observations and more cohesive arguments. But the introduction was the thing that got people reading, that hooked people.
Angry tears pricked at the back of her eyes.
Dr Nathanial Daley’s public popularity had waned after the initial rush of interest with his Pictish papers, and she scanned his other, drier, more academic papers. Not at all as engaging as her not-quite-academic introduction.
Laurel looked up at Nate on stage, mic in hand, answering another question with a secure, self-assured smile. How could she have been so stupid? Of course he wanted to forget about what happened ten years ago, because he had built his success on the paper he had stolen from her.
A fat tear smeared across the printed page of Nate’s academic writing.
Feedback crackled over the speaker and she lifted her eyes to Alex, sweating profusely. He coughed again, put the mic down on the table and sidled off the stage, motioning at his throat.
Oh, hell no.
Alex was heading for her. There was absolutely no way she wanted to talk to fucking Alex now. Or ever again.
She could just imagine them now, laughing over how best to humiliate her. Yes, make her feel ugly, disgusting, pathetic, so she would hate them so much, be so destroyed, that she wouldn’t even bother to read the groundbreaking paper they’d written. Well, they should have included Laurel. Alex and Nate, Nate, had cut her out of it altogether. Stolen her work and published it as their own.
What was all this to Nate now? Just another ploy to get the Little Willow Farm dig site up and running? Another coup for the brilliant doctor’s career? How could she have been so stupid?
Laurel fled the conference hall, pushing past Robin and Jack by the door.
‘Laurel, what’s going on,’ Jack hissed, but she ignored him and burst out into the cold autumn afternoon.
The door closed behind her again, and it was Alex who had followed her out.
‘Leaving your own reception, are you?’ he asked derisively.
‘What do you care?’
Alex took two large steps towards her, and he was quick for a big guy. She would not step back even though he was crowding her.
‘Read my paper, have you?’ he asked, smugly.
‘You and Nate stole my work, then you decimated me, destroyed me in that student union bar, so I wouldn’t ever come after you. You two are fucking horrendous human beings,’ she ground out, desperately trying to keep her tears in. ‘You’re the worst kind of academics. You’re thieves without any original ideas.’
‘I was sparing you. Telling you the truth. Giving you some much needed advice, Laurel.’ Alex gripped the top of her arm tightly. ‘And now I’ll give you some more.’ His voice had dropped, low and dangerous.
‘Get your fucking hands off me.’ She tried to rip her arm away from him, but he was too strong.
‘You need to listen to this,’ he whispered, ruddy face way too close to hers. ‘Because you seem to think that you’ve got some kind of power here. You don’t. You’re worthless here, you understand? You are nothing to Nate, you just keep his bed warm at night until he moves onto the next, better girl.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Laurel said, but her voice was small.
‘Yes, I do. I know him better than he knows himself. He still thinks of you as that pathetic, scared little girl playing dress up in your ridiculous black dress, trying to steal him away from his girlfriend, who, by the way, is much more of a woman than you will ever be,’ he spat.
‘Fuck you, Alex.’ Her voice wobbled unsteadily.
He snorted and leaned closer. ‘You’re not scared, are you Laurel?’
Laurel opened her mouth and then closed it again, because she was confused and hurt and desperately sad. And yes, she was scared, because Alex was enormous and angry, his grip a vice on her arm.
‘Get your hands off my sister,’ Jack said from behind Alex, voice like iron, and she had never, ever, been so glad to hear her big brother.
Nate
Nate cut the questions short when Alex jumped off the stage and rushed outside after Laurel. Whatever that conversation was going to be, ‘good’ was not an outcome he expected.
Sylvie had taken the stage in lieu of Laurel and directed the audience to the buffet and drinks area, which was good, because that meant he had a clear run outside. He glanced around, but Jack and Robin were nowhere to be seen either.
His stomach dropped. This wasn’t good.
Nate burst outside, taking in the Fletcher boys flanking Laurel, her face tear-streaked and shattered. He moved to her, but she shrank away from him into Jack’s side. What? He frowned, then looked to his old friend.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he asked, warily. ‘Alex, what have you done?’
Alex’s shirt was hanging out, blood dripping through his fingers clutching at his nose.
‘I haven’t done anything! That fucking farm boy punched me!’ Alex spat blood on the ground.
Nate looked at Robin, who shook his head and pointed to Jack.
Jack? Why had Jack punched Alex? Laurel was at Jack’s side, his arm slung over her shoulder.
‘What’s happened?’ Nate asked, reaching for her.
She flinched away from him and pulled out her phone, tapping viciously at it.
‘All I know, is if that bastard puts his hands on my sister again, a broken nose will be the least of his problems,’ Jack said, voice steely.
Nate’s anger burst to the surface.
‘You did what?’
‘Come on, I didn’t do anything. This has all been blown out of proportion.’ Alex spread his hands wide in appeasement. ‘I was just having a little chat with Laurel here.’
Nate looked at her, and his smartwatch vibrated.
‘Yeah, we were having a chat,’ Laurel said, voice thin.
He took a step towards her, but she flinched away again. His stomach clenched.
‘Can you please tell me what’s happened?’ he asked gently, holding up his hands as he would do to a scared animal.
‘I’ll tell you what’s happened,’ Laurel said in a quiet, dangerous voice he had never heard before.
‘Uh oh,’ Robin said under his breath.
‘No wonder you wanted to forget about what happened ten years ago, Nate,’ she started, stepping away from Jack, her hands clenched at her sides. ‘Because you stole my work, and sent your best friend here,’ Laurel shot a dirty look at Alex, ‘to tell me what a waste of space you thought I was. An ugly, pathetic loser who had no business writing a paper, and what the hell was I doing trying to get between you and your golden girlfriend, Lucia, because you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me. That frankly I was arrogant and you couldn’t ever speak to me. That you were so embarrassed for me.’
Tears were flowing freely down her face, dripping off her chin onto the gravel floor.
‘Laurel, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Then you published my paper. You stole my work, Nate. You and your best friend here. Then you have the gall to come to my home and ask me to forgive you? To worm your way into my life? Fuck, you’re cold.’
‘Laurel, I don’t—’ He stepped towards her, but stopped as Robin stepped forward too. Nate knew a warning when he saw one. Was this what had happened ten years ago? Did Alex really say those things? ‘Stole your paper?’
‘Really? You don’t know anything about it?’ she asked, but the sarcasm was heavy. ‘You don’t remember sending your best friend to eviscerate me? You must have blocked out receiving my paper because it was too embarrassing, yeah?’
‘What paper? Laurel, I swear to you, I never saw your paper,’ he said, racking his brain, because surely he would remember something like that.
‘Well, you’ve got a chance to revisit those memories, because I’ve just sent you a copy of it, and it would appear that the introduction to your ‘breakthrough paper’ was actually lifted word for word from the essay that this pathetic, arrogant, embarrassing undergraduate wrote.’
He looked at Alex.
‘What did you do?’ he whispered.
There was a flit of hesitancy across Laurel’s face as they all looked at Alex, wiping blood on the sleeve of his jacket.
‘Oh, mate, I didn’t do anything you didn’t know about. Come on, Nate,’ he said.
‘Laurel, I didn’t—’ he started, but she interrupted him.
‘You asked me to forget about it, to start afresh, and it was all because you wanted to keep your dirty little plagiarism a secret,’ she said and fresh tears sprung to her eyes. ‘Was everything a lie?’
‘No, Laurel, that’s—’ he said, reaching for her, but she held up her hands.
‘I can’t be around you,’ she whispered.
‘Rebecca’s home. You can go to her,’ Jack said.
Laurel walked away as quickly as she could. Nate started to go after her, but Robin caught his arm.
‘Nah, mate,’ he said, eyes flashing with anger.
Robin exchanged a quick confirmatory glance with Jack before pulling his arm back and punching Nate hard in the face. Christ, it was as if he had been hit like a tractor. He crumpled to one knee as pain exploded across his face, clamping his hand over his cheek where Robin had solidly landed his fist.
‘I told you if you hurt my sister, we would smash your face in,’ Jack said blithely. ‘And the two of you have pissed her right off.’
‘Alex, what the fuck?’ Nate shouted, getting back to his feet as quickly as he could. Somehow, this was all his fault, Nate knew it in his stomach.
‘Nate, come on, man. It’s not my fault she took it the wrong way,’ Alex huffed.
‘Took what the wrong way? What about a stolen paper?’ Nate asked, stalking forward towards his old friend.
‘I don’t know what she’s talking about,’ Alex lied, and lied badly.
Nate gave a brittle laugh. ‘Don’t give me that shit.’
Alex looked around, but there was no one to help him. Jack and Robin were watching intently, wondering whether either of them needed a further punching.
‘Look, I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done,’ Alex said.
Nate frowned at him and barked out a harsh laugh.
‘I’m not sure that’s true, Alex.’
‘Come on, mate,’ he said, easy camaraderie barely masking his distress. ‘I didn’t say anything you didn’t think anyway.’
‘How the fuck would you know?’ Nate shouted, all semblance of calm completely disappearing. ‘I had absolutely no fucking idea that she’d written a paper, that you said those vile things and completely destroyed her.’
Alex sighed dramatically. ‘Alright, alright. I walked past her and saw that something had been left in your pigeonhole, so I took a look.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘She’d even written a note on it asking you to meet her for a drink.’ Alex snorted. ‘Yeah right,’ he said under his breath.
What the actual fuck?
So, Alex was a thief, a plagiariser, a goddamned awful human being, and moreover, Nate was implicated as well.
‘Let me get this straight.’ Nate pushed a hand through his hair. ‘You saw something in my pigeonhole, read it, stole it, met Laurel, berated her, and then fed me her paper bit by bit as your own personal ideas?’
Alex finally started to look nervous and he licked his lips, eyes glancing to the hardened Fletcher boys. They were taking it all in. Nate would not want to be in Alex’s shoes if Robin and Jack decided to avenge Laurel further. Robin was a barely tethered Doberman.
‘I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,’ Alex said, wringing his hands.
‘How would you put it,’ Jack paused for a second, ‘mate?’
Alex threw an incredulous look at Jack as if he wondered how Jack even dared talk to him.
‘I’m not sure that you would understand.’
Robin’s neck strained as he held himself back, but Jack just laughed. Threw back his head and belly laughed.
‘I think the only one who doesn’t understand things here is you,’ he said, eyes crinkling from mirth. ‘You see this boy here?’ He flicked his thumb over his shoulder at Robin, who gave Alex a feral grin. ‘I’m the only thing stopping him from ripping your face off, so I suggest that you get the fuck off of my farm, and never ever go near my sister again.’
Nate vowed to never get on the wrong side of Jack, because Alex looked as if he was about to piss his pants. He shot a pleading look over to Nate, but Nate just shook his head.
There was no way he was going to help Alex out of this shit storm, or any other shit storm, ever again.