“No dinosaur erotica allowed in our house.” Ash wagged a finger at her.
“I promise,” Emelia said.
“We did find something else, though,” I said, pulling the other thing out of my bag.
“What’s that?” Ash asked.
I stood up and walked over to her and placed the painting in her hands. I didn’t need to say anything to her; she inhaled sharply when she saw it. Emelia moved over to get a closer look and, when she did, her hand flew up and covered her mouth in shock.
“This is him,” Ash declared.
“Yes,” I stated.
We all sat in silence and I could see that Ash and Emelia were looking at the picture in exactly the same way as I had—with a sense of absolute wonder.
“What’s this?” Ash pointed at the corner.
“What?” We all moved closer.
“It looks like writing. Look—can you see it?”
“Vaguely,” I said, not sure if I was seeing letters or not.
“Wait. I’m coming back.” Ash put the picture down and raced out of the room. Moments later, she came back with some bottles of liquid and a few cotton buds and brushes.
“I need more light.” She looked up at the ceiling—the light in this room was naturally dim—and, at the same time, we all took out our cell phones and flicked our torches on. We shone the light down on to the canvas that Ash was now carefully working on. As we watched, I could feel the collective holding of breath as something started to emerge from the ash and dirt and dust. She continued to work and soon it became clear what we were looking at.
“It’s a letter,” she said. “It’s an . . . an . . .”
We all leaned and squinted.
“A!” Ash yelled triumphantly. “It’s a bloody A!”
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Itisan A. She calls him ‘A’ in her diary.”
“What else can you see?” Mike asked.
“Okay, give me some time and space.” Ash swatted us back with her hand and we moved. “This might take a while; you’ll have to give me at least half an hour.”
“Shall I make dinner, then?” Emelia asked.
“Pleeeassse.” Ash looked over her shoulder and smiled at her fiancée. “And I could seriously do with a little glass of vino.”
“Me too,” Emelia said, walking towards the door. “All this detective work makes me thirsty.”
“Me too.” Mike started following Emelia out the door.
“Are you coming?” Emelia asked me. “You heard the lady—she wants some peace and quiet.”
“Uh . . .” I looked at Mike; he was looking at the floor. “It’s okay. I’ll just go and chill in my room for a bit. I wouldn’t want to disturb family dinner—”
“Oh, don’t be an idiot!” Ash swung around and looked at me. “What are you talking about? Go, drink wine and relax, and we’ll all have dinner together soon.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go grab something somewhere.” It was less about disturbing a family dinner, and more about getting away from Mike. The uncomfortableness between us since the cave was making my skin burn.
“God, you are a martyr, aren’t you?” Ash said. She looked over at Emelia. “Sort her out,” she said to her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Emelia walked up to me and looped her arm through mine. “Come,” she said. “You can peel potatoes.” And, before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged off by her.
