“Just enter those things you pay for outside the system or when people pay by cash or cheque. If you set up your suppliers, this will pay them when they send an invoice through.”
Mary looked intimidated.
“Is it safe?”
Tamsyn laughed.
“Yes, perfectly safe. Then, you can send it to your accountant for auditing ready for the tax return.”
Mary looked at the scrolling figures and then at Tamsyn.
“You are wasted in media studies. In fact, you’re wasted in university. You could make a very comfortable living helping people like me get the most from their computers. Can you fix broken ones as well?”
“Usually, yes.”
Once that was done, she was free for a couple of hours, so she made her way to the tourist office to see Gwen. She stopped off on the way and used her bank card in the ATM. The PIN came to her as she inserted it. Creepily, it was the same number as Allun’s card.
She was pleasantly surprised to see she had a couple of thousand pounds in her account. She wanted to take a look at her statement, but had to go into the bank to get them to do it over the counter.
She had a regular payment of £500 per month coming into her account from the trust her parents had set up for her. Suddenly, she was solvent!
It was a sunny day, so the tourist office was full of tourists (strangely enough). There must have been a cruise ship disgorging a couple of thousand passengers, and a fair proportion had found themselves asking for helpful hints as to the best places to eat, the best views and sights.
Gwen saw Tamsyn arrive and waved at her while she handed out leaflets to several of the tourists. They had four people in the office, three women and an older man. They were swamped, so Tamsyn offered to help. Gwen quickly introduced her to her co-workers as a local girl on holiday from university.
“Do you know the area?” the man asked.
“Yes,” she lied. Well, it was a sort of a lie.
“Good, then just pitch in.”
Several of the visitors were Americans, so with every twang of accent, especially those from New York or New Jersey, Tamsyn was reminded of her past and of Miriam. She acquitted herself admirably, in the words of the man, James Trevellian, the manager of the office.
“Would you be interested to volunteer to help out on a more regular basis?” he asked.
“I already have a part time job for the summer, so I can’t, but I don’t mind helping out when I’m free.”
During a lull in the proceedings, Gwen and Tamsyn got a chance to sit down together.
“Great news,” said Gwen. “I’ve found someone who has details of the Saxon, Brandt.”
Tamsyn felt weary of this.
“Who is he?”
“Some retired stockbroker in Bedford. We spoke together on the phone last evening. We’ve been exchanging emails for the last few days. It appears that the body of a Saxon called Brandt was found on his land in Bedfordshire. Various artefacts were removed from the dig, and a reconstruction of the mound is now in the same museum.”
“Was there a sword?”
“Apparently not, but when I mentioned that I was interested in old English languages, he stated that he had some articles in his private collection that he’d appreciate some help with. His interests and specialities are with the Saxons, Danes and Vikings, so the Celtic items are not really his thing.”
Tamsyn felt uneasy, but couldn’t explain why.
“What’s his name?”
“Matthew Brand. Why?”
“Brand?”
“Yes, why?”
“It’s close to Brandt, isn’t it? Did you mention me?”
“No, why should I have done?”
“No, and I’d rather you didn’t. Is he aware of the Tamsyn legends?”
“Yes, we spoke of the Brandt connection when I asked about the sword. He inherited the land and manor from his uncle. It’s been in the family for a long time. He says they were one of the few Saxon families to retain their land under the Normans.”
Tamsyn’s feeling of almost dread seemed to magnify. The name ‘Brutus’ popped into her head for no reason.
“He has the sword!” she said.
“What?”
“He has the sword, but cannot read the inscription.”
“He said there was no sword in the site.”
“It isn’t now, but I bet you all the money in the world he took it before anyone knew it was there. Is the old dead Saxon on display in the museum?”
“I have no idea, but there are probably photographs.”
“I have to go there and see for myself.”
“We can both go at the weekend.”
“Sunday,” said Tamsyn. “I have to help Mary on Saturday.”
“Fine, I’ll contact him and tell him that we’ll be there on Sunday. Can you leave Saturday evening?”
“Yes, I suppose so, why?”
“We could head off at around ten at night. It will take us five hours, and without traffic, we could stay at a motel or something to get more time in Bedford.”
Tamsyn had not thought about the journey.
“Where is Bedford?” she finally thought of asking.
Gwen laughed.
“Head east towards London and then, take the M25 and then, the M1 north for about an hour.”
Tamsyn remembered Allun arriving at Heathrow and so worked out the rough distance.
“I can share the driving if you like?”
“Getting you insured might be tricky. You’re just nineteen.”
Tamsyn sighed. Okay, so being young again had its drawbacks.
Chapter Nine
Matthew was surprised that the woman, Gwen, actually was interested enough to want to come up to Bedford almost as soon as they finished speaking on the telephone. His first reaction was to deny her access to the house but then, thought he was being paranoid for no reason. Clearly, he could show her various things in which she would be interested, and then, they could discuss the inscription without him saying anything about from whence the sword originated.
She called back asking whether she and her niece could come up that weekend, on Sunday. He agreed, feeling that he could maintain control throughout.
His next reaction was one of excitement, for it had been too long since any positive information had been forthcoming about his sword and the history of his ancestor. He felt that even the smallest snippet of information might help him put together the jigsaw that was the history of those bygone days.
He almost offered Gwen and her niece a room for the night, and in the end baulked, unable to break a habit of a lifetime. He just couldn’t face strangers being in too close a proximity for too long.
In a way, he was sad that it was a woman and her niece coming. A nice young man of a certain persuasion might add some spice to an otherwise boring existence.
The drive was long and tedious. Gwen had not driven to London for many years, and even though they set off at ten past ten in the evening, there was still a heck of a lot of traffic. They didn’t hit the M5 until midnight, and by then, Gwen was feeling incredibly tired. They stopped at a service station for some fuel and a coffee.
“You should have got me insurance,” Tamsyn said.
“I called the company, and they wanted three hundred pounds, just for two weeks.”
Tamsyn rolled her eyes.
“Then, I’ll just have to keep you awake somehow. Why don’t we stop closer to London, so we can get an early start, and still get to Bedford early?”
At 2am, Gwen called it a day. They were close to Heathrow on the M4, so stopped at a Premier Inn in Berkshire, just before hitting the M25.
“Do you mind sharing?” the man asked. “We have only one room left. The bed is enormous.”
They didn’t. Gwen used the bathroom first, changing in there while Tamsyn undressed in the bedroom. Both were asleep in a matter of seconds after turning out the light.
Gwen awoke with the sun streaming through the open curtain and to the smell of fresh coffee.
Tamsyn was up and dressed.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Seven. I went and got some Costa coffee from the place across the road. I reckon it’s better than instant.”