Open Writing

'Don't keep looking over your shoulder,' I said to Arniston.

'I can't help it,' he said.

'You're getting on my nerves.'

'I'm sure we're being followed.'

'Why the hell should anyone want to follow us?'

'Because of this, you prat,' he said, tapping the bag I was carrying.

'Look,' I said, 'we've found a handful of tacky old Roman coins and you're making out that we've struck gold. Who the hell would want to snatch a few Roman coins off us, for god's sake?'

'You never know. There are some odd characters around here.'

'Yes,' I said, glancing at him, 'you're right about that.'
*
'Now take Alf Edder,' said Arniston when we were in the pub, 'he's odd, don't you think? He's always scavenging, in the fields, on the beach, wherever. But he never seems to find anything, does he?'

'I don't know,' I said, 'you tell me ... you're the expert.'

'Well, he doesn't, does he? That's why I don't want him to know about our
little find. It might upset him. Best not to mention it . . . Ah, he's spotted us. Quick, push the bag under the seat . . . He's coming over.'

'Mind if I join you?' said Alf, sitting down. 'I hear you've had a real find.'

'What!' I yelled, 'how the bloody hell do you know?'

'Oh, word soon gets around in this neck of the woods,' Alf said.

*
'Do you know what fossiking is?' Alf said when Arniston and I had calmed down.

We both said no, we didn't.

'Well,' said Alf, 'it's the process of searching for gold in disused seams . . . So, chaps, you can keep your Roman coins ... I'm going for gold.'