The Clay Pipe

By Harry Riley

(This story is fiction and resemblance to anyone living or dead is co-incidental)

“Are we there yet?”

Young Richard Parsons was getting too excited as he fidgeted on the back seat of his Uncle Bob’s shooting brake. This antique vehicle with its metal panels and polished wooden framing was an early form of estate car called ‘The Morris Traveller’ Richard loved this car with its spoked steering wheel, bulbous nose and rounded body, he thought of it as an old English bulldog, crouching and ready to pounce. He would have one just like it one day if they were still around. In the boot were a spade and a metal detector and they were off for a day’s hunting in Farmer Noake’s half-acre field by the water meadow at Findley Crags (an iron-age settlement.) Richard was ten years old and had been looking forward to this outing for weeks. They were now approaching Findley Village and this was a bright and cloudless summer day. They had permission from the

good-natured farmer to hunt for buried treasure and Richard’s head was brim full, dreaming of ancient swords, gold and silver coins.

Farmer Noakes had once stumbled upon a silver bracelet turned up by the plough, so they believed things were there, just waiting to be discovered. Uncle Bob had bought this new ‘Goldranger’ detector that could ignore the low value stuff like rusty nails and can-tops but would zone-in on any possible treasure-trove. They parked up in a lay-by and with Richard carrying the spade and Uncle Bob, clutching the detector; they swung open the five-barred gate into the grassy field.

Bob put on the headphones and with an absorbed look on his face, started quartering the field just as the salesman had instructed. Would they have beginners luck?

An hour later just as a ‘bored Richard’ was leaping over a deep waterlogged furrow, using the long handled spade as a vaulting pole, his uncle shouted out

“Hold it! We have something here.”

“What is it?”

“Shush! Quiet a minute! ‘Don’t know yet”

The sound emitting from the detector had changed from a constant tone to a more urgent beep-beep-beep.

“Here take this and give me the spade.”