Chapter Forty-Three
Ethan
T he day after Ashraf returns to the dig, having seen Sadie off, I make a flying visit to Cairo myself. Dealing with the Department of Antiquities can be tricky, but I draw on all the goodwill and friendship I’ve built up over the years to arrange for a change to the concession. My goal is to finish the dig a week early. Which means working weekends and longer days, but I need to get back to Sydney as quickly as possible and fix this problem.
When I get back to the boat, I call a team meeting on deck.
“The reason I went to Cairo was to make some changes to the dig. If you’re all in agreement”—I look at everyone except Riley because her opinion is of no consequence to me—“I’d like to finish a week early. I need to get back to Sydney and sort out the complaint that’s been made.”
Riley shrinks a little from her place at the back of the group when all the guys turn and give her the stink eye.
“Absolutely.” Bart claps me on the back.
“No problem,” Jeremy adds. “Maybe we could sneak in a few days snorkelling in Hurghada before we head home?” He looks at the other Cambridge students, who all nod.
“Sounds good. I’m in,” Simon agrees.
“Anything we can do to help?” Garret asks.
Nobody looks at Riley. Or invites her to Hurghada. My granny would say she’s been sent to Coventry. Well and truly. Just desserts.
I knew the guys would be more than happy to do whatever they could to help. Riley has enough sense of self-preservation to remain silent.
“This will mean only taking one day off each week and no more trips to town.” Heads nod. “Tarek says the local team are happy with this. So, going forward, Friday will be our day off. Let me or Ashraf know if you have any problems.”
It’s not much, but I feel like I’ve at least made some progress towards making this right.
Since they’re the most adept at reading both hieroglyphs and hieratic, Bart, and Jeremy work in the rubbish pit, which isn’t as awful as it sounds. The pit was excavated early last century, but there’s more to find, and we’re more meticulous about documentation now. It’s still full of ostraca—ancient notes written on pottery—some of which may be helpful to Sadie in her thesis. I don’t even have to ask. Anything they think could help her is automatically put aside and photographed.
Nothing else we find causes the joy we all felt when Sadie found her pot, which sits securely in the portable safe, ready for transfer to the Cairo Museum for thorough cleaning and documenting when we pack up. The dig is now all work and very little play, although the boys—even Garret—still play cards every night.
After the first couple of days, when all my messages to Sadie go unread and unanswered, I stop messaging. I, of all people, understand the need to isolate and lick your wounds. I cut my entire family off for the better part of two years after Jess died. So I give her the space she clearly needs.
For the first time in my life, I can’t wait for a dig to end. I’m just going through the motions. All the while stewing in guilt and fear and anger and regret.