Chapter 3

The town where we lived was close to a large expanse of moorland. It was Dad’s idea to drive to the moors, taking the metal detector with us, and spend the day hunting for lost treasure. I quickly became absorbed. On the other hand, Mum, Dad and Janey quickly became bored with me monotonously sweeping the detector over the rough heath. Since the moors had been Dad’s idea, Mum and Janey went for a walk while Dad had to stay to watch me. He was careful to marshall me away from any boggy areas, warning that they could be dangerous.

I didn’t find much; a few modern copper coins, some more rusty nails and a metal cigarette lighter, but I was hooked.

After that, I managed to persuade my dad to take me treasure hunting on the moors about once a month. We occasionally encountered other treasure hunters with metal detectors and made polite exchanges then got the hell away from each other: metal detecting is a solitary pastime. Still, some of the competition commented on what a nice machine I had, making me appreciate even more the amount of thought that had gone into that Christmas present.

When I turned fourteen, my birthday present was a decent, adult-style bicycle to replace the kiddy bike I’d had to persist with until then. A couple of coats of pink paint, which naturally I had to apply, and my old bike was deemed fit for Janey. I wouldn’t have put it past her to have suggested the new bike for me, specifically anticipating that would be the outcome.

Dad had become bored accompanying me treasure hunting on the moor, and decreed I was now deemed mature enough to cycle there and back by myself. He made a harness for me to fix the metal detector to the bike, and with food and drink in my backpack, I was all set for the day. Because we lived on the right side of town and there were plenty of cycle paths, Dad and I were able to plot a route to the visitors’ car park that avoided any busy roads. Cycling there was the hard part because it was mostly uphill, but that meant at the end of the day I had an easy ride home since I was able to coast much of the way.

Without the restriction of Dad’s oversight, I gradually ventured into the boggy areas. I soon found that rumours of man-eating bogs were a complete fabrication. True, a misplaced step might result in sinking up to the ankle and a wet foot, but that was as bad as it got. And the bogs were where I started making more significant finds.

On one particularly successful trip I found several metal discs within few yards of each other. Although not very flat or circular, they each bore a man’s head and writing I couldn’t decipher. I guessed they were old coins but I didn’t know how old. I thoroughly scoured the surrounding area in case someone had buried a treasure chest nearby and the discs were part of a much larger cache, but if they had, I didn’t find it.

I showed the coins to my family when I got home. Neither of my parents could identify them but Janey came up with a good idea. She suggested I show them to staff at the local museum. Dad rang the local museum and got an appointment to see the head curator the next day, since he was the museum’s numismatic expert.