Treasure Beneath Another’s Roof: A Tale of Gold, Cunning, and… the Heart
William arrived in the countryside to visit his grandfather, Thomas—to breathe fresh air and escape the city’s clamour. This time, though, he hadn’t just packed clothes; he’d brought a proper metal detector. From the doorstep, the old man squinted, watching his grandson fuss with the peculiar gadget, until he finally broke his silence:
“What’ve you got there, lad? Gone fishing with that thing?”
“Grandad, it’s not a rod. It’s a metal detector—near professional. I read online there’s gold buried round here somewhere. Fancy having a go at finding it.”
The old man chuckled, his gaze drifting toward the field beyond the garden before he spoke slowly:
“Heard that tale from my own father, I did… And, truth told, I reckon I know where that gold might be. Trouble is, someone’s built a house right on top of it.”
William nearly leapt with excitement:
“So, d’you think you could get me in there?”
His grandfather shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief:
“Might do. Doubt they’ll let you dig, though. Even if you find summat, by rights it’s theirs. Their land, their property. But if you’re set on trying… there’s another way.”
William frowned:
“What d’you mean, ‘another way’?”
“Well, that house—their daughter’s just come back from London. Eleanor, her name is. Sharp as a tack, kind-hearted… not one for airs and graces. Now there’s a treasure worth finding.”
“Grandad, not this again! I’m here for the gold, not a girl.”
“Who said you weren’t?” The old man laughed. “Treasure’s different for every man. Befriend her, let her in on your scheme—might be she’ll persuade her parents to let you scan their garden. And if you strike lucky? Could be they’ll cut you in.”
William hesitated, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade:
“You’re certain the gold’s there?”
“Certain as my own name. My old man swore it—hundred years back, some toff fleeing the chaos hid a fortune. Half the village tore the place apart searching, but it never turned up. Then they built that house… and the trail went cold.”
“And you sat on this all your life?”
“How’d I dig it up? With a spade? Didn’t have one of them fancy gadgets. But now you’re here…”
“Alright. But how d’you expect me to talk to her?”
“That’s fate’s business, not mine. Walk past ‘accidental-like.’ I’ll start nattering about aphids—see how they’ve gnawed the apple trees. You chime in, introduce yourself. Come on, where’s your backbone?”
William wavered a moment longer, then agreed. Ten minutes later, they stood at the gate of the old house. His grandfather struck up a leisurely chat with the owner, while William locked eyes with the girl stepping into the yard. Eleanor. Dark hair, hazel eyes, a smile warm and unguarded. Suddenly, he forgot why he’d come.
They talked. Walked by the lake. She asked him to help mend the grapevine arbour. The metal detector stayed in its box. Each evening, William returned to his grandfather’s only to sleep. He spoke not a word of gold or gadgets. Other riches held his thoughts now.
A week later, as he packed to leave, his grandfather sat puffing his pipe on the bench, grinning:
“Well? Find your treasure?”
William glanced at the darkening sky and smiled:
“Found it, Grandad. Just not the one I was after.”
“Told you, didn’t I? Real gold ain’t in the ground. It’s in people.”
And the metal detector stayed in the village—tucked under a sheet in the shed. But Eleanor? She stayed in William’s heart.
