Hunky Dory. Jean Ure

a more scholarly reply, Aaron had jumped in and yelled, “Dinosaur bones!”

      “What, in Warrington Crescent?” said the Herb.

      Aaron said why not. They’d have stamped about in Warrington Crescent same as they did anywhere else.

      “In the back garden?”

      “You gotta remember,” said Aaron, “it was all primeval swamp in them days. That’s what it still is, deep down. Then the bones kind of work their way up. Prob’ly quite near the surface, some of ’em. I wouldn’t be surprised if we came across the odd one now and again.”

      I said, “I would.” This is exactly what I mean about Aaron always claiming to know everything when in fact he knows nothing. I said, “I’d be very surprised.”

      “So what are we searching for?” demanded the Herb.

      I had to explain that it wasn’t dinosaur bones, which in any case would be fossils by now, but just whatever turned up. So far I have discovered:

      An old coin dating from 1936 A piece of broken china (a shard, as we professionals call it) A small blue bottle (probably contained poison) A rusty penknife, almost certainly antique.

      They are all cleaned up and properly labelled. I showed them to my assistants, thinking they would be impressed—thinking they might actually learn something—but the Herb just giggled and Aaron said, “Is that it?”

      I said, “This is history, this is.”

      “Some history,” said Aaron.

      The Herb giggled again. Everything’s always a big joke with her; she finds it very difficult to take things seriously. “You never know,” she said, “it could be the scene of a hideous crime. We’ve got the murder weapon!”

      “If you’re talking about that penknife,” I said, “it wouldn’t go in deep enough.” I know about these things; I’ve studied them.

      “All right, then!” She snatched up the bottle. “Poison!”

      It was all they needed. Next thing I know, they’re both going mad with their trowels, showering earth in all directions. I told them quite sharply to stop.

      “This is not the way you’re supposed to do it! You’re ruining the site!”

      Aaron panted, “We’re looking for a body!”

      “You’ve got to admit, bodies would be interesting,” said the Herb. “More interesting than bits of broken china.”

      I had to be very stern with them. I mean, yes, OK, body parts would be great. Teeth, or skulls, or thigh bones. I’d like to discover body parts just as much as anyone else, but it’s not the way that it’s done.

      “If you’re going to help, then help properly,” I said. “Just try to be a little bit professional.”

      The Herb mumbled “Professional, professional,” and stroked an imaginary beard, while Aaron went into exaggerated slow motion with his trowel. I said, “That’s better. You’re worse than the dogs!”

      Dad has erected a special wire netting enclosure for the hole. He did it so that Mum, in her daffy way, wouldn’t go trundling down the garden with a barrow full of used cat litter and fall into it, but it also serves to keep the Russells at bay. I do love the Russells, but I sometimes can’t help wishing Mum had developed a passion for a more useful breed of dog. Dogs that could fetch, or carry, or herd. If the Russells got into the hole it would be total chaos. As it is, they all sit on the other side of the netting and whinge.

      “Dunno why you don’t let ’em in,” said Aaron. “Get the job done far quicker.”

      “Wouldn’t be professional,” said the Herb. “Hey, I just thought of a joke! Is it OK to tell jokes?”

      I think I must have hesitated, cos she said, “It’s all right, it’s a professional joke…it’s a dinosaur joke.”

      “Yeah, yeah, go on!” said Aaron. “Tell it!”

      “Right. What’s a dinosaur that’s had its bottom smacked?”

      “I don’t know,” said Aaron. “What is a dinosaur that’s had its bottom smacked?”

      The Herb said, “A dinosore-arse!” She looked at me, triumphantly. “Funny?”

      “Your mum wouldn’t think so,” I said. “She’d say you were being vulgar.”

      The Herb gave one of her cackles. “Rude, rude, Mum’s a prude!”

      “I reckon it’s pretty good,” said Aaron. “Here!” He gave me a nudge. “You tell the Herb about Amy Wilkerson?”

      Herb said, “Ooh, another joke?”

      “She fancies him,” said Aaron.

      “Amy Wilkerson?”

      “Yeah, she went and sat next to him and started breathing over him.”

      “Yuck, yuck, yuck!” said the Herb. She turned, and made vomiting noises. “Amy Wilkerson…puke!”

      “She’s not that bad,” said Aaron. “I’ve seen worse.”

      “OK then, you have her,” I said.

      “Yes, you have her,” said the Herb. “Amy Wilkerson…bluurgh!”

      I really wish I’d never mentioned it. I’m certainly not going to say anything about the Microdot and her gang of gigglers. It’s funny, though, I never knew the Herb had it in for Amy Wilkerson.

      When we went back in for tea I found Wee Scots doing things with mothballs. Threading string through them and tying knots.

      “She’s making necklaces,” said Will. “To go round trees.”

      I said, “What do trees want necklaces for?”

      Wee Scots cried, “Mothball necklaces, laddie!”

      I screwed up my nose and looked at Will. Solemnly, he said, “It’s to stop the dogs using them as toilets.”

      And the Microdot says I’m weird?

       Three

       Sunday

      She said to draw a house and garden. I drew a house and garden. She looked at it and said, “That’s supposed to be a house?” I said yes. I have never claimed to be any good at drawing.

      She told me that I’d done it the wrong way round. She said, “Look at it! It’s back to front.”

      Sometimes she is just totally illogical. How can a house be back to front? I explained that it was simply seen from the rear. She said, “So who draws a house seen from the rear? Honestly! It’s so anti-social. It’s like turning your back on people.”

      I said, “That is just your opinion.”

      “It isn’t an opinion,” she said. “It’s psychology.”

      Huh! I bet she doesn’t even know how to spell the word. She says she’s going to give me one test a week until she’s built up a profile. “Then we shall see!”

      I told her she wouldn’t see anything if I refused to do them, but she said that was where I was wrong. “If you refuse to do them it’ll simply show you’re scared.”

      I said, “Scared of what?”

      She said, “Of having your true self revealed! So whether you do them or whether you don’t, we