Memories of his dead family haunt grieving archaeology student Jasper, whose only solace lies in unearthing the burials and artefacts of prehistoric Britain. When a charming yet emotionally unpredictable Irishman tries seducing him back to the present, it will take all of Jasper's heart to finally bury his dead and start curating a new, chosen family.
Does your life matter if no one’s around to witness it? Imagine if everyone forgets you’ve ever existed, and all that’s left of you are a few inconsequential clues.
Let’s say I died right now.
Imagine this is Pompeii instead of the Haddon Library and Vesuvius erupts, killing me instantly. Nothing’s left of me but negative space entombed in ash, and a paltry handful of the shit I lug about in my rucksack that by some miracle wasn’t incinerated in the chaos.
What can you find out about me based on what’s left? Aside from my wallet—spoiler alert: Cambridge uni ID for one Jasper Michael Thomas and three quid—you’ll find a battered smartphone with cutting-edge technology…from 2013. A relict laptop. Hobnobs for daily emergencies. A notebook. Pens. Inhaler. His Dark Materials trilogy, for when required readings are too dull.
No exotic artefacts or ancient secrets found here. Really, those are rather shambolic grave goods. Poor sap, future archaeologists will say.
Chairs scrape the wooden floor. Thin light falls from tall windows.
Glancing up from my laptop, I dare look across the room. It’s pointless, but I can’t help it. It’s been a year since I first saw Jack McEwan.
Chestnut hair, pale skin, freckles. A grin that ruins me…and everyone else who crosses his path.
Mercifully, Jack’s oblivious as ever.
I’m so outside his orbit that I’m in the next galaxy.
Jack would have some class grave goods, no doubt.