The first thing that hits me when I get out of the car is the heat. The sun's rays hit my face like a slap, and the air feels moist against my skin.

The second thing I notice is that we aren't in the city anymore. Long gone are the grey, gum-stained tarmac and the twinkling of the sun on shop windows. Now, there is just fine dust that sticks to the bottom of the car, and occasional shrubbery that resemble cacti more than anything else.

Mum pays the fare, grabs both our suitcases, bids the driver a farewell, and then the tyres are crunching on the gravel, and dust lifts into the air in a cloud, making me cough.

"It's just along here somewhere," she muses. I dart away before she can grab my arm again and hold onto my suitcase handle instead.

She leads the way through the dried dirt, case rumbling behind her. I use the opportunity to take in our surroundings. We're on a dust track, and a steep cliff rises up as far as I can see on our right. Dried, prickly plants litter the side, and the scorched land is cracked. On our left, there is a deadly drop into a valley surrounded by pine trees. If I look down far enough, I can see all the little pine-cones scattered on the floor.

"They're down in the valley. By a river," Mum informs me. I nod even though she can't see me, and we continue the rest of the way in silence, dust lingering on our lips, our suitcases seeming too loud for the peaceful silence.

As we near the valley, the sound of trickling water fills my ears. And then the river comes into view.

It's fast-flowing, the water running over rocks. It's so clear you can see the bottom; small pebbles, algae, and an occasional trout. The sun glints off it, throwing strange patterns onto the rocks surrounding the banks.

Sweat makes my shirt cling to my back; I have this sudden urge to rip it off and plunge into the river, but Mum's position has receded – she's almost past the river and into the shade of the trees.

Taking one last longing look at the singing water, I pull my suitcase along, doubling my strides until I catch up.

"While we're there," Mum begins, "you're not permitted to take part in the digging. Or interact with the other diggers, for that matter."

"Why?" I ask, panting to get my breath back.

She grits her teeth, and I can tell she doesn't like me answering back, but she doesn't comment on it. "I don't want you straining yourself or distracting the others. We have important work to do."

I want to open my mouth in rebuttal, but by the looks of her clenched jaw, I know that one more complaint will make her turn on me in the same way she turned on the Evian bottle and the man at the airport.

So, I just bop my head politely and go, "Okay."

We make our way through the pine trees; the cones littered around our feet trip up the suitcase wheels. Mum, with a sigh, picks hers up and, in silence, we continue the rest of the way.

Soon we turn a corner and the digging site comes into view. We are back in the dust, something that swirls in the distance as more and more dirt is thrown into the air. I notice a group of about ten diggers, two to a hole. The partners nearest to us take it in turns to dig. One man with pronounced muscles rests to the side of the hole, breathing hard, his face bright red. He takes a swig of his water and wipes the excess with the back of his hand.

"Why are there people digging?" I ask Mum in a low voice, lest the man hears. "Why don't you just have machine diggers?"

"Machine diggers scoop too much soil from the ground. We wouldn't be able to find anything, and even if we did, it would probably get damaged."

A few metres away from the action, there are clumps of tents. A huge gazebo stands to the side, tarp swaying in the gentle breeze. Sitting inside is a man who, when he sees us, stands and waves. Mum waves back and heads in his direction, which could only mean I do too.

"Hello, Guy," says Mum with a smile.

"Good morning, Miranda." His voice is deep, and his eyes widen when he sees me. He is a clean-shaven man with a bald patch that sparkles in the light. "And this has to be the one and only Jules."

"Ju—"

"Julian," Mum interrupts quickly. I recoil slightly. What? Does she think I can't say my own name? But, like every time, I say nothing.

"Welcome to the digging site," says Guy warmly. "I'm sure you'll have a splendid time."

Mum then begins to rattle about the rules she set in place for me. Not wanting to be reminded again, I quietly slip out from the huddled discussion and move my bag so it rests to the side of the gazebo, out of the way. When I return to the two adults, Mum is still rambling and Guy is nodding his head, agreeing, and my heart deflates slightly.

"That sounds like a good plan." Guy turns to me. "But don't worry, bud. You can be useful in other ways. Like why don't you go to the river and fetch us some water? I'll get you some bottles." He turns around and begins rummaging through the stuff on the floor.

"Is the river clean?" Mum asks. "Because I don't want any of us getting sick. You and I know perfectly well that there are many water-borne diseases. And—"

"It's perfectly clean," Guy assures her, appearing again with some plastic bottles, three of which he hands to me. "Here, fill these up, and give them to the diggers when you return. You know where the river is, don't you?"

Dutifully, I nod. When I turn away, Mum begins to ask about the diamond. Interested, I turn, but they're no longer looking at me —I'm irrelevant. So, I move away from them, back through the working diggers and along the path until I hear the trickling of water again.

There's a warm feeling swimming through my veins as I step down the rocks to the twinkling water. But a glance at the opposite bank soon fills me with dread.

Sitting with her legs dangling in the water is the girl from earlier. The girl from the plane.

I dart my eyes away before she can catch me looking at her. I can feel the burning of her eyes on me, roving over everything. And judging, no doubt.

"Hey," comes the smooth, silky voice. "Do I know you?"

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, even though I'm already sweltering. One glance at her and another flood of heat comes. She swings her legs through the water, causing ripples, jeans rolled to her knees, leaning back on her hands, eyes boring into mine.

"Yes," I squeak. "We—"

"You sat next to me on the plane."

I nod. "I'm sorry for that. For looking at your notebook. I never meant to, I swear. And please say you don't hate me, I—" When my rambling happens, it leaves no room for excuses.

I'm cut off by a snigger. The girl's top lip is curled up in a sneer. Then, once done observing me, she throws her head back and laughs a laugh that sounds like she's trying to get something out of her gut. I watch the few pink strands fall behind her shoulder.

"I couldn't care less about your opinions, Sweathead."

"Sweathead?"

"You're sweatin' like a pig." She looks amused at my discomfort. "But it's hot, I know, but you also got the hots for me. Isn't that right?"

Biting my lip, I kneel on the sand, uncapping one of the bottles. "No," I say. "Definitely not."

"Whatever, Sweathead."

"Are you going to keep saying that?" I run the bottle through the water, trying not to let any debris through.

"What? Would you prefer something else? What about SweatPit?"

"You're not very good at this," I half-mumble to myself as I get a leaf inside the bottle. Ignore her, I think. Ignore her and that fuzzing feeling in your stomach.

"Oi? You got a problem with me, kid?"

"No!" I say quickly, suddenly realising what she means. When all of the bottles are full, I stand up, about to leave for the site again, when her voice stops me.

"You returning those back the diggers?"

I nod, not turning.

"I'll come with you, then. Guy'll be wondering where I am."

There's a splash, a scrabble, and then she's beside me, perfume filling my nose again. She takes one of the bottles from my hands and takes a swig.

"It's hot out. Gotta keep my energy up."

I raise an eyebrow. "You dig?"

"Yeah, course," she replies. Then she takes the rest of the bottles from me. "I'm an archaeologist in training."

We've left the comfort of the river and turn onto the track now. "Have you ever found anything big?"

"No." For a split second, I think her voice catches but I can't be sure. "That's why I want to search the river."

"Well, why don't you?"

"You're full of questions." Her voice is abrasive, and I flinch.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Guy's a shitty leader," she hisses between her teeth.

And she doesn't say any more because we've reached the diggers. The huge man from before smiles at her as she passes, and she stops to talk to him, handing him one of the bottles. Soon they're walking together, leaving me to the side, forgotten about.

Dejected, I turn to the gazebo where Mum and Guy are sitting sprawled on the tarp. Mum has her shades on, and Guy is sipping on a beer. All of a sudden, I feel a wave of anger at them. Whilst everyone else is digging and panting like dogs, these two are relaxing like pharaohs. And, I remind myself, they both get a big chunk of the profit too.

I don't say anything as I place myself next to them. I can't. They'll brush my anger away like flies.

Far in the distance, I can see the girl hacking away at the hardened earth. Her method is relentless and efficient. She doesn't stop for water for a whole ten minutes, and even then she has the energy to mumble a few words to her partner.

We spend the rest of the day like that; me watching helplessly as the diggers work and work, but nothing is found.

No artefacts. Nothing, save for thousands of pebbles and trillions of grains of dirt.

* * *

Night falls quickly. Guy rises to his feet and stretches. In the fading sunlight, there are the sounds of shovels dropping and bottles being recapped.

"Well done, guys," says the leader. "Although we didn't find anything today, you all worked tremendously hard."

I swear I hear a snigger from somewhere, but it's so faint I can't be sure.

"Because tomorrow is a Sunday, you're all permitted to rest." This is met with murmurs of agreement. "No digging until five in the afternoon. The morning's free."

And, with a nod of his head, everyone is dismissed for the night.