Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

23rd December

I wake the next morning, my eyes opening wide with fright. Is that an alarm? Is the place on fire? I didn't overindulge at the party given I'd gone heavy the night before at the wedding, so it ended up being a very pleasant social event. I ate a shitload of excellent brie, I met a man who made his millions manufacturing shoes for dogs, I may have had an animated singalong at the end when the piano man went all for broke and burst out ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree'. And I watched as Miles and Jasper left the party to return Cressida to the Hunter's Lodge passed out drunk. And as they promised, they did that by putting her in a wheelbarrow and taking pictures.

None of it explains that sound though. Is that how they announce breakfast? I lie there remembering where I am, in my four-poster bed, my dress carefully draped over a chair in the corner. I reach over for my phone. It's 6.30 in the bloody morning. I curl back into a ball in this very warm and extremely comfortable bed but scroll through my phone to see my messages from Leo. He never replied. I don't know how I feel about that.

There's that sound again. It sounds like a boat, leaving a dock. Is it their doorbell? Maybe the postman has packages. Maybe it's the Ocado man. I wrap my duvet around me and head to the window to have a look. Nothing, just an assortment of cars and the misty winter dark sitting over the lake. I knock lightly on Jasper's door. I hear a grunt from behind it, which I'm not quite sure is a sign to enter so I open it very gingerly.

‘Please don't tell me you're an early riser,' he mumbles. Jasper is on his own, face down on the pillow, lost under his duvet. He possibly had a bit more to drink than me last night. His clothes from last night are strewn all over the floor. ‘I told you we're not that posh. If you want a coffee, head down to the kitchen and make one yourself. My mum has one of those pod machines like at work.'

‘Oh no, it's just…I heard a sound. I was worried it was an alarm or something,' I tell him.

‘It was probably a pheasant outside, they make a lot of noise.'

‘Do they sound like horns?'

‘What? Maggie? You did have a lot of cheese. Go back to bed.'

The horn suddenly sounds again and Jasper's eyes fully open, snarling.

‘Was that the sound?' he asks me.

‘Yeah. Is everything alright? Is the house on fire?' I ask him.

He doesn't answer but picks up his phone and makes a call. ‘Hi, did you know…? I can't believe it…He said what? The absolute…Can you swing by in ten minutes? OK…' He hangs up and gets out of bed, putting on some socks and pulling a hoodie over his checked pyjama bottoms, mumbling angrily. I don't know what is happening but this is the Jasper I am used to.

‘ I recognise the fury. I'll guess this isn't an IT problem?' I joke.

‘I wish,' he says, looking at me curiously in my duvet shroud. ‘Go back to bed, Maggie. I'm sorry it woke you,' he tells me.

‘Is everything alright?' I ask. ‘Can I help with anything?'

He stands up, putting his hood up over his unruly mop of hair. ‘You wanted to know how posh we are? Well, my brother has organised a hunt this morning. Idiot.'

‘A hunt? What is he hunting?' I say, horrified.

‘Who bloody knows? What you heard was a hunting horn. He's probably still bloody drunk, knowing him.'

‘So what are you going to do?' I ask him.

‘I'm going to stop it, obviously,' he says confidently.

‘On your own?'

‘I've called Miles, he's going to meet me there.'

I stand there, a bit dumbfounded. This is certainly not what I'm used to at all. Usually in Shepherd's Bush you get woken early by a bin man. I look at him reaching for things around his room.

‘So just the two of you? Taking on men in horses and dogs and stuff. I'm sorry…I don't know how hunts work. Will they have guns? You could get hurt?' I say, concerned.

‘No. There are no guns. I'll likely stand there and shout obscenities at him.'

I stand there watching as he puts his hand to the door.

‘Well, maybe I can help you shout too?' I ask him, not really sure if I should be saying that. But this seems like it needs more bodies in the way to assist.

He turns to look at me, curious for a moment. ‘Are you wearing a onesie?'

I open up my duvet. I am. It has reindeer antlers, when I put the hood up. ‘Yes.'

‘Well, that might help. Come on then. '

I hadn't really envisaged what these days away with my work colleagues would entail. I figured that I'd have my fair share of turkey and a few glasses of mulled wine, meet a few eccentric family members. Never did I think that I would be standing in my reindeer onesie, a pair of wellies and a black Barbour coat in the middle of some woodland. This is how horror films start. I'm going to be taken by the Blair Witch in a minute. Naturally, I like animals, I don't even mind co-existing with them, but I should have maybe got a coffee inside me first before trying to defend them from hunters. I should possibly also be wearing a bra.

‘Here…gloves…' Miles says, handing some to me. Miles picked us up a while ago in a very charming, aged Land Rover and, like some guerrilla-style activists, Jasper and I jumped in and rode across fields and dirt paths. I don't know if there's a plan – Jasper spent most of the short trip calling his brother many, many names – but if there is one, I might put my hand up now and say I don't mind being the cool tech person who stays in the vehicle.

‘Who's leading?' Jasper asks Miles.

‘This was Albert's bidding. He borrowed the hounds from a few locals and Cressida is using it as an opportunity to impress her city mates. My dad tried to stop them,' he explains. They both look out onto the fields with binoculars. I pretend to look in the same direction.

‘I don't get it. I thought hunting was illegal,' I whisper.

‘Fox hunting is but not trail hunting. They'll try and tell you that they've laid a trail of fox piss around and are having a lovely day out riding but it's hugely likely they're not. My dad would have seen people laying out trails for a start,' Miles explains.

‘So they're going after foxes?' I ask.

Jasper nods. ‘They'll say it's culture, tradition, they'll say the foxes are vermin but at the end of the day, it's cruel, it's unnecessary.' I smile to at least know that Jasper doesn't engage with any of it. ‘So we have to put them off…'

He goes inside his jacket and pulls out a long gold horn and blows it into the air. I put my hands over my ears. It's like a magic call to arms, suddenly a few dogs scramble out of the undergrowth and come towards us, Miles greeting them with treats.

‘We can divert the dogs this way and here…' Miles tells me handing me a spray bottle. We can Febreze them? ‘This has citronella in it which can throw them off the scent of any foxes? Just spray it about?'

I am no longer tech girl, I am spray-gun girl. Gotcha. I walk around the brambles and leaves, spraying carefully. I may be walking in mud, it might be poo but who knows. I'm here for the foxes. Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Miles and Jasper, watching their interactions, trying to get an ear in at what's been happening.

‘I am sorry they were rude to your dad, it's uncalled for. It really is. I'll get my dad to say something,' Jasper tells him.

‘Like they would listen. He's just spent a lot of time tracking the foxes, trapping and relocating them when the woods get too overpopulated.'

‘I know, I know,' Jasper says sadly.

Jasper is still in his pyjama bottoms and hoodie while Miles managed to throw on some jeans, his heavy outdoor coat and a flat cap from before. Miles cracks a whip into the ground. I don't quite know why but if we're all having a special weapon then I hope I don't get lumbered with something shit like a spear.

Miles looks back at me and senses my curiosity. ‘It's like a stop command for the dogs,' he explains. ‘Are you alright?'

‘Just spraying…' I say, ‘As per my orders. Jasper told me there'd be more opportunity to shout at people though,' I joke .

‘Sorry. That may come later.'

Jasper looks over at me and trundles over. ‘You're doing an excellent job, by the way. You're a very proficient sprayer.'

I smile at him, my toes numb in my Wellington boots. ‘I want a huge, fuck-off breakfast after this, yeah?'

‘Oh, the works.'

There has been so much to say to Jasper since yesterday. I like your mum, she's ruddy fantastic and I adore the way you look after her. I hate how you and Miles are some sort of outliers in this family. I don't see why you've been cut out of it. Albert is a bit of a personality void, Cressida is a personality disaster. And then there is Miles who I love. Who you love. I hate that you hide that part of yourself from your family, I really do, but I am privileged to be witness to it.

‘The other tactic is that you stand there in the reindeer onesie and bay and attract the dogs that way,' Jasper tells me.

‘Bay? What noise does a reindeer make?' I say, attempting a sound that's a cross between a moo and a neigh. I see Miles laughing across the way. ‘But what if the dogs eat me?'

‘They won't eat you. They'd kill you though, possibly just to stop that noise.'

And maybe that's where my relationship with Jasper sits, on the right side of banter, as opposed to a deep dive into why the threads of all these relationships he has with so many don't quite weave together in the way they should.

Miles suddenly drops his binoculars. ‘Shit, they're headed this way,' he tells us. His worried expression tells me that perhaps running will now feature in this morning excursion, I'm not sure if I'm ready for that.

However, Jasper stands his ground. ‘You keep going, keep spraying. Maybe stay low.'

I do as I'm told and keep moving, headed towards a big tree where I can hide but also spy, mainly because I think this might get juicy .

There was me thinking hunts would involve one or two dogs but no, there's almost a herd, and behind them a few riders on horses in red jackets and black helmets.

‘How did I know it'd be you two out here ruining it for everyone?' says a man at the front. I think that may be Albert. ‘Was it you with the horn?'

‘Have no idea what you're talking about,' Jasper says. ‘We are foraging for mushrooms. Right, Miles?'

‘Yeah, I'll assume you're on a trail hunt then?' Miles asks him, defiant.

‘Of course,' a female voice sounds out. ‘Not that it's any of your business what we get up to on our land.'

‘Your father's land,' Miles corrects her.

I don't know what to do. I should be spraying citronella around but also I'm worried. The hunters are on big horses with nicely plaited hair and Jasper is basically in his pyjamas with only his searing confidence to back him up. This doesn't feel like a good or healthy situation. Do I rush in with my onesie? I don't think that will be healthy and may confuse the dogs so I start moving slowly backwards, out of sight, using the trees as cover. I don't know what this is but I am earning my cooked breakfast. I move like I see people do in combat war films, you face the action. Naturally, that means I don't see what's behind me though so I suddenly trip over an outlying branch and roll on to the floor. I wish it was one of those commando rolls that makes me look cool but instead I land flat like a pancake on my back. I rub at my head and lower back.

‘Is there someone else out there with you?' I hear a voice in the background. Oh, shit. They're going to send the dogs looking, aren't they? I get the spray bottle and furiously douse myself with citronella. What do you do if you're being hunted? You either climb a tree, run in a zigzag direction or lay perfectly still. Or is that for dinosaurs? I really should start appreciating the country a bit more .

‘Probably a badger,' Jasper says. ‘Are you after those too? Were you looking to make a coat, Cressida?'

I try and crawl to a safe spot, away from view. I don't know if my fall made me hurt but I pick crispy leaves off my chin and watch as everyone seems to still be arguing. Could I crawl back to the estate? It's then I see it. It's a mound of earth, surrounded by almost a gateway of tree branches that leads into some sort of tunnel and out of it, three baby foxes are looking at me. I don't say a word. I don't move because I don't want to scare them but, Jesus Christ, you are so bloody cute and so little. Go in your tunnel. Go, go, I signal, trying to tell them to go back in. Go and hide. One of them starts making a strange barking/purring noise.

‘No,' I whisper. ‘Don't do that. They'll hear you. Shhhh,' I say, trying to go all Dolittle. I spray citronella around their den. I don't want you to get mauled. It's Christmas and that would haunt me forever. I sit there. I don't know why I haven't scared you yet but let's assume this onesie is far more realistic than previously thought. I think one of them is smiling at me, like he wants to be friends. I peer my head around the trees. I have no idea what to do.

‘Seriously, where's your mum? Go find your mum…' I really don't know what I'm doing. Like he's going to tell me she's just popped out for milk. I hear dogs howling again in the distance and another hunting horn sound. Shit. Maybe I can push them down the den and block the entrance so they're safe. Maybe I can teach them to run in a zigzag. But no, instead I take off my coat and pick them up carefully, one by one and place them inside the coat. It's cold but we'll be fine once we're running from the giant pack of dogs. I cradle them close to me.

‘Come on, let's go…somewhere…' I instruct them, all their little faces looking up at me. I hope your mother doesn't now jump out of a bush and eat my face for stealing her young. I start moving through the woodland, carefully, trying to pick up spee d in the uneven terrain. I need to channel my reindeer, possibly gallop. How does one do that exactly? I pick up my knees more. I can hear people on horses making shouting noises in the distance. I've seen this on Game of Thrones . The people on horses always win. I hope Jasper and Miles can hold them off at least. I swear we parked the Land Rover up here. I should have paid more attention, I'm now with a bunch of baby animals and completely lost. Here. I get to a path that leads out onto a one-track road. There's a car there but it's not ours, the driver window winds down and I see Carmel sitting there, in a winter coat and beanie, beckoning me in.

‘Silly girl, why are you carrying your coat? What on earth is…Oh…'

‘Room for three more?' I say, out of puff, slightly delirious.

‘Jump in.'