Chapter 8
Gemma turned and headed back down the stone steps towards a cluster of rotting wooden footings.
It was always good to look in places where things could get trapped and accumulate, never making it back into the river, like in inlets or by walls and posts.
She zoned in on the sludgy mud and poked around at the base of the footings.
For a long moment, she completely lost herself to history.
Until the high-pitched beeping of a metal detector brought her back to the present. The detectorist was only a few metres away. She was about to return her gaze to the exposed riverbed when she noticed him taking something out of the mud that caught the light and winked.
‘Hey,’ Gemma called out.
The man looked up. He had mud on his face and wind-tousled hair. ‘Hey,’ he called back cheerfully.
‘Can I ask what you found?’ Gemma jogged over to him.
‘Um, well …’ The man seemed as perplexed by his find as he was by her sudden arrival. He stared into his cupped hand.
‘Sorry,’ Gemma said. ‘I’m not trying to be nosy. Only a woman I just met lost an earring. I was wondering if you’d found it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Have I?’
He unfurled his hand. A gold flower earring lay in his palm like a piece of royal treasure on a velvet cushion.
‘That’s it!’ Gemma clapped her gloved hands. ‘Phyllida!’ She shouted and turned in the direction of where she’d left her at the top of the steps. But Phyllida was no longer there. ‘I can’t believe it. She was there a second ago!’
The man curled his fingers back around the earring and brought his hand closer to his ripped T-shirt. ‘Really?’ he said looking at her suspiciously.
‘No, honestly, I know how this must sound but it’s true.
This other mudlarker …’ Gemma looked back at the spot where Phyllida had been in case she had returned.
‘She was, literally, sitting up there only moments ago. She must have just left. We’ve spent the last hour trying to find her lost earring. ’
‘And you reckon this is it?’
His distrust was palpable but she didn’t care.
‘I know it is because I commented on the one she was wearing. This is amazing. She’ll be so happy.
’ Gemma smiled, hoping to have convinced him, although he definitely – and probably understandably – wasn’t going to part with it that easily.
‘How about I call her and she can confirm it with you?’ she suggested.
Gemma pulled off her gloves and got out her phone. Then she remembered. The only way she could contact Phyllida was through Instagram and now she’d forgotten the name of her handle.
‘Oh, God.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t call her because I don’t have her number!
We only just met, as I said. She told me she was on Instagram so I can send her a direct message, but I don’t know when she’ll see it.
’ Gemma bit a thumbnail and felt her face redden, as it always did whenever she felt panicky.
The man studied her for a moment, then his face relaxed. ‘You know what?’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about it. I believe you. Anyway, a single earring is no good to me. I’m a matching pair kind of a guy.’ He laughed.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep.’
‘Thank you. You’re a man after my own heart. And definitely Phyllida’s. About the single earring thing, I mean,’ she reiterated pointing to an earlobe.
He smiled. Gemma took the earring and put it in one of her Ziplock bags. ‘Thank you so much. I hope the river gifts you something else today.’
‘To be honest, I get excited when this old machine makes a noise, let alone finds something.’
‘Well, have yourself a very noisy day!’ She was so happy for Phyllida, she had to resist the urge to give the man a hug.
On the train on the way home, Gemma found Phyllida on Instagram. She followed her and sent her a direct message with a photo of the earring.
It wasn’t until later that evening that Phyllida replied. Honey, you’ve made my day, she wrote. But don’t even think about putting it in the post. What if it gets lost again? Why don’t we meet for a mudlark and you can give it to me then?
Gemma had never considered mudlarking to be a social activity. It had always been something she did by herself, for herself. Her solo escapism. Yet, perhaps it would be nice to go out with someone who’s as enthusiastic about the pastime as she is.
An hour later, when Gemma was getting ready for bed, she received another message from Phyllida.
There’s going to be a lunar eclipse in the early hours of Monday morning and a low tide.
What are the chances? I’d love to mudlark then.
Would you? We could do it at the spot we were today.
The best time is going to be between exactly four-twenty-nine and five past six in the morning.
Hardly sociable hours! I won’t be offended if you say no.
It was an enticing invitation. The thrill of seeing a blood moon and not having to wander the foreshore alone in the dark would compensate for having to get up so early.
Why not! she replied.