Page 115 of A Scottish Island Summer

My eyes fluttered open. ‘I think it might be over there.’ I pointed to the right. ‘That’s where we had our picnic.’

I took off over the grass, mentally willing my recollection to be right.

I gazed down … and there it was, hunched beside another, less impressive looking rock. I took in the shape of it again. Yes, this was it. ‘Campbell! Over here!’

Campbell picked up his pace, his black leather bag containing his archaeological tools bouncing in his hand.

He crouched down, facing the unusual rock. He smiled, appreciating it. ‘It does look like a heart.’ He threw a look over his shoulder. ‘Anyone else around that you can see?’

‘No. It’s just us.’

‘OK. Good. We need to be very gentle about moving this rock, just in case there’s anything delicate underneath. I don’t think it’s too heavy.’

I hunkered down beside Campbell, who proceeded to set both hands on top of the rock.

‘What if there isn’t anything there?’ I asked, worried.

Campbell shrugged. ‘Then so be it. Now, you go round to the other side of it. When I say pull, we go together, OK?’

I dashed round to the other side of the rock and was reminded of Logan and I rescuing the trapped dolphin. Frustration tore at me. Everything I did on Skye—everywhere I went—reminded me of him.

I set my shoulders. ‘OK. I’ve got it.’

‘Good. On the count of three then. One, two, three … pull!’

I did as I was told.

Campbell angled from his side at the same time and the rock began to shift, revealing rich earth and dirt underneath it.

I watched as he ferreted around inside his bag and pulled out a flat mason’s trowel. ‘If there’s anything under there, we need to be careful, so I’m going to dig horizontally,’ he explained as he began gently sweeping the rich earth aside with flat, horizontal movements.

I tried to fight my impatience as the minutes ticked by, peering down into the hole, hoping there’d be a sliver or a glint of something soon.

‘There isn’t anything there, is there?’ I asked, after another chunk of time slid by on my watch.

Campbell stopped using his trowel. ‘Usually, if there is something buried, the soil carries signs of a change in texture, smell or composition.’

‘And there isn’t anything like that?’ I asked in a small voice.

With an air of disappointment, Campbell flopped back and extended his legs. A flash of resignation raced over his features. ‘No.’

I rubbed my face in frustration.

‘It was worth a try,’ insisted Campbell. ‘Let’s set the rock back in place.’

With dejection filling my body, I moved to help Campbell with the rock, but then he hesitated.

‘Hold on. What’s that?’

‘What’s what?’

He scrambled for his trowel and pointed it down towards the disturbed earth. ‘I think I saw something there.’

We moved the rock to one side again and I knelt down on the grass beside Campbell, who was beginning to scoop more earth away.

Like a winking star emerging through a bank of cloud, a trace of what looked like a gold tassel began to peek through the dirt.

Campbell squinted down at it. ‘There’s definitely something here.’