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she said, “it could be the scene of a hideous crime. We’ve got the murder weapon!”
    â€œIf you’re talking about that penknife,” I said, “it wouldn’t go in deep enough.” I know about these things; I’ve studied them.
    â€œAll right, then!” She snatched up the bottle. “Poison!”
    It was all they needed. Next thing I know, they’re both going mad with their trowels, showering earth in all directions. I told them quite sharply to stop.
    â€œThis is not the way you’re supposed to do it! You’re ruining the site!”
    Aaron panted, “We’re looking for a body!”
    â€œYou’ve got to admit, bodies would be interesting,” said the Herb. “More interesting than bits of broken china.”
    I had to be very stern with them. I mean, yes, OK, body parts would be great. Teeth, or skulls, or thighbones. I’d like to discover body parts just as much as anyone else, but it’s not the way that it’s done .
    â€œIf you’re going to help, then help properly,” I said. “Just try to be a little bit professional.”
    The Herb mumbled “Professional, professional,” and stroked an imaginary beard, while Aaron went into exaggerated slow motion with his trowel. I said, “That’s better. You’re worse than the dogs!”
    Dad has erected a special wire netting enclosure for the hole. He did it so that Mum, in her daffy way, wouldn’t go trundling down the garden with a barrow full of used cat litter and fall into it, but it also serves to keep the Russells at bay. I do love the Russells, but I sometimes can’t help wishing Mum had developed a passion for a more useful breed of dog. Dogs that could fetch, or carry, or herd. If the Russells got into the hole it would be total chaos. As it is, they all sit on the other side of the netting and whinge.
    â€œDunno why you don’t let ’em in,” said Aaron. “Get the job done far quicker.”
    â€œWouldn’t be professional,” said the Herb. “Hey, I just thought of a joke! Is it OK to tell jokes?”
    I think I must have hesitated, cos she said, “It’s all right, it’s a professional joke…it’s a dinosaur joke.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, go on!” said Aaron. “Tell it!”
    â€œRight. What’s a dinosaur that’s had its bottom smacked?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Aaron. “What is a dinosaur that’s had its bottom smacked?”
    The Herb said, “A dino sore- arse!” She looked at me, triumphantly. “Funny?”
    â€œYour mum wouldn’t think so,” I said. “She’d say you were being vulgar.”
    The Herb gave one of her cackles. “Rude, rude, Mum’s a prude!”
    â€œI reckon it’s pretty good,” said Aaron. “Here!” He gave me a nudge. “You tell the Herb about Amy Wilkerson?”
    Herb said, “Ooh, another joke?”
    â€œShe fancies him,” said Aaron.
    â€œ Amy Wilkerson ?”
    â€œYeah, she went and sat next to him and started breathing over him.”
    â€œYuck, yuck, yuck !” said the Herb. She turned, and made vomiting noises. “Amy Wilkerson… puke !”
    â€œShe’s not that bad,” said Aaron. “I’ve seen worse.”
    â€œOK then, you have her,” I said.
    â€œYes, you have her,” said the Herb. “Amy Wilkerson… bluurgh !”
    I really wish I’d never mentioned it. I’m certainly not going to say anything about the Microdot and her gang of gigglers. It’s funny, though, I never knew the Herb had it in for Amy Wilkerson.
    When we went back in for tea I found Wee Scots doing things with mothballs. Threading string through them and tying knots.
    â€œShe’s making necklaces,” said Will. “To go round trees.”
    I said, “What do trees want necklaces for?”
    Wee Scots cried,