Chapter 17
It was six-thirty in the evening on the last Wednesday of the month and Gemma was the first to arrive for the second meeting of The Mudlarkers’ Club. She took a seat by the window at the table Phyllida had reserved and watched as people walked by.
‘Hey, Gemma. It is Gemma, isn’t it?’
She looked up.
‘Oh, it is,’ Nick said with obvious relief. ‘I was just out the back having a cheeky smoke. Have you ordered?’
Gemma was about to answer when Phyllida arrived.
‘Hello, everyone!’ Phyllida glanced around. ‘Minus Tim? He is coming, isn’t he?’
‘I think so,’ Gemma said.
‘I’m getting the drinks. What would you like?’ Nick drumrolled the table like he was trying, but failing, to get in time with the background music.
‘I was thinking we should start a kitty so that we don’t have to worry about all this drinks-shouting business. It could go towards outings as well,’ Phyllida said.
‘But I’d like to shout this time. Tim did it last time.’ Nick was insistent. ‘And here he is. Our most senior mudlarking adviser.’
‘Senior being the operative word,’ Timothy said. ‘Evening all.’
‘Welcome to our second meeting,’ Phyllida announced, sounding relieved and amazed they were having one. ‘Has everyone had a good few weeks?’
‘Well, my permit recently came through. Thankfully, Phyllida, you told me to apply at our first meeting. And I bought a trowel,’ Nick said. ‘The detector is officially kaput. I thought about spray painting it gold and displaying it on a stand, but Ella dissed the idea.’
He quickly looked away. Gemma thought his eyes were welling up, although it was hard to tell.
‘Are you okay?’ Phyllida said gently.
‘It’s just sad knowing I can’t use it anymore. This might sound ridiculous, but it’s kind of like saying goodbye to Dad all over again.’
‘It doesn’t sound ridiculous,’ Phyllida said.
‘Maybe you can remember your dad through mudlarking?’ Timothy offered.
‘Yeah, he’d have loved being part of a mudlarking club.’
‘You could spray paint your trowel gold instead,’ Gemma suggested.
They all laughed, and it was nice that Nick smiled at Gemma in appreciation and then seemed to brighten up after that.
‘Just a tip, though,’ Timothy said. ‘You can only use the trowel to dislodge objects or for gentle surface scraping, not for digging. You’re only supposed to search with your eyes and take out what you see on the surface.
The top layers of the foreshore are extremely important ecologically and digging can cause permanent damage. ’
‘Roger that,’ Nick said.
‘Have you been out yet?’ Timothy asked.
‘The day after I got the permit, as it happens.’ Nick paused. ‘Sorry, is it ok for me to skip the show and tell?’ he said seriously.
‘Oh. Well,’ Phyllida said, looking flummoxed. ‘It’s not really in the spirit of things. Sharing is what the club is all about. But I suppose if you haven’t found anything …’
‘I’m sorry, Phyllida, I’m only joking.’ Nick laughed. ‘I’ve brought in my find.’
Phyllida’s face relaxed. ‘You cheeky so-and-so,’ she said.
He opened his satchel and pulled out an antique padlock from a plastic bag. ‘It’s pretty rusty and corroded. There are some letters at the top which are hard to decipher but you can just make out “London 1801”. It looks like it’s been forced open, too. Maybe someone was trying to steal something.’
‘Or its owner lost their key?’ Phyllida said.
‘It could have been used to lock up one of the warehouses or docks along the Thames. Or even a barge,’ Timothy said. ‘If you clean it carefully, the letters might come up clearer and then you could do some research.’
‘Electrolysis is the best way to get rid of rust,’ Gemma said. ‘I’ve been looking up how to do it and it seems pretty easy to make your own kit.’
‘Do let us know how that goes,’ Timothy said. ‘We might all want to try it.’
‘What about you, Timothy? Have you brought anything along?’ Phyllida asked.
Timothy opened the box he’d put on the table.
‘It’s a World War Two Auxiliary Fire Service coat button,’ he said, passing it around.
‘The AFS was a voluntary fire service formed in 1938. During the war, fire boats played an important role in fighting fires along the Thames. But many of the bombings occurred when the river was at its lowest, which meant that access to water was extremely difficult. When the Blitz happened, it was the first time many of the AFS members had ever had to fight a fire.’
‘Fascinating.’
Timothy’s chest expanded as he smiled. ‘I could bore you for hours on the Second World War.’
‘And, Gemma, what about you?’ Phyllida rushed to say, as if that was as much World War Two information she could handle in one sitting. ‘Have you got something to show us?’
‘I do,’ Gemma replied.
‘Good, good.’
‘These pieces of typeset. Two are spaces and one is the letter “C”.’
‘Wow, how did you spot them? They look like slivers of stone,’ Nick said.
‘Practice, I guess,’ Gemma said, feeling pleased to be on the receiving end of awe, which was in sharp contrast to what she’d often got from Adam.
‘It’s called “tuning your eye” or “getting your eye in”,’ added Timothy.
‘Well done on finding them,’ Phyllida said.
‘But if you don’t mind, I think I can go one better.
’ She held up a large Ziplock bag inside of which, at the very bottom, was an aqua-coloured bead like the eye of a very small bird.
‘It’s so tiny that I thought I should put it in the largest bag I had so I wouldn’t lose it. ’
Just then, a tinny sound rang out from her handbag. She raised a finger as if testing which direction the wind was coming from. ‘Hang on, that’s my phone.’
Answering, she turned her back on them for privacy reasons but didn’t modify her volume. There were a lot of ‘Oh, dears’ and ‘Oh, no’s’ before she hung up.
‘I’m so sorry. That was my son. He’s going travelling to Australia in three days and he’s just discovered that his passport is out of date.
I can’t believe he didn’t check earlier and now he seems to think I’m going to be able to help.
I thought I’d raised him to be capable and independent.
He had to be, given he was an only child of a single mother. ’
‘You raised him on your own?’ Timothy said.
‘My ex-partner got commitment phobia when Samuel was born and did a runner. But my husband Robert is a great stepdad for Samuel, even though he spoils him. The boy’s now twenty-four, and I suppose I shouldn’t still be worrying about him so much.’
‘It doesn’t matter what age they are, it never ends,’ Tim said. ‘I’ve got one child, three grandchildren and one foster grandchild and I worry about them all.’
‘I’ve got no kids and you’re putting me right off,’ Nick said. It was hard to tell whether he was joking or not.
‘Would you like children? Sorry if that’s too personal,’ Phyllida quickly added.
‘Ella – my partner, girlfriend, whatever we are – she said she got broody once, but she hasn’t mentioned it again. Sometimes I feel like I’m the one with the biological clock ticking and not her.’ He laughed, even though it didn’t sound as if he found it particularly funny.
‘If you really do want children, surely you need to raise it with her again?’ Phyllida said, as if she were his mother. ‘I don’t mean to interfere but you need to be on the same bandwidth in a relationship.’
‘Don’t you mean page?’
‘Probably.’ Phyllida shrugged as if she wasn’t bothered with semantics.
‘Whatever it is, you’re right,’ Nick said despondently, as if he’d given up long ago trying to raise the subject of children with his girlfriend.
‘What about you, Gemma?’
Gemma smiled, telling herself to put on a brave face.
‘No children,’ she said. Then out it came.
‘And as of three months ago, no husband. Adam left me for another woman and now they’re having a baby.
’ She blushed and looked away. She hadn’t expected to reveal so much so soon, nor did she want to get upset in front them.
‘What a stinker!’ Timothy said.
‘Yeah, that’s shit,’ Nick agreed.
‘You can do it on your own, you know. Have children, I mean,’ said Phyllida. ‘Back when a friend of mine was in her early thirties, she gave up trying to find someone special to have a family with and used a sperm donor. She now has a twenty-seven-year-old daughter who’s a human rights lawyer.’
‘Impressive,’ Nick said.
‘It has its upsides,’ Phyllida continued. ‘If your child displays unwanted traits, you can always blame the sperm donor. Ha! Only kidding. But if you do want to go down that route, my friend would be more than happy to have a chat.’
‘Oh, I don’t know …’ Gemma was still getting used to living on her own, let alone be ready to contemplate something as audacious as using a sperm donor.
‘Never say never.’
‘I was considering getting a dog but worried I’d dress it up in bows and tartan coats, and that’s no way to treat a puppy.’ Gemma laughed. It was time to lighten the mood.
‘Or a baby.’ Nick chuckled and smiled at Gemma as if offering sympathy for her unlucky personal circumstances. Or perhaps it was because she’d admitted to liking miniature tartan coats.
‘As we’re on the subject of children, do you mind if I ask you all a question?’ Timothy said.
‘Ask away.’ Phyllida leant back in her chair as if preparing herself to give more advice.
Timothy cleared his throat. ‘I was wondering what you thought about me bringing my foster grandchild to the club?’
‘The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned,’ Phyllida said.