‘Killed a hound,’ I gasped.
They both turned. Dad had been throwing a thin blue rug on a steaming Thumper.
‘I did,’ I managed. ‘I killed it. Dead.’
‘How?’ Dad had gone pale.
‘Thumper kicked it. Left it in the bushes. No one saw. Didn’t own up. Need to move. France, probably.’
I’d already thought it through as I rode back. Down near Toulouse, a little place called Gaillac. I’d been there once on a school trip, years ago. Pretty. And I’d open a little shop, like that woman in
‘Oh, God.’ Even Jennie, totally un-horsy, knew this was bad.
‘The house will sell quite quickly,’ I gabbled on, ‘always getting things through the door from estate agents. And the children will be bilingual, huge advantage.’
‘Do shut up,’ she told me, taking my arm and sitting me down on the lorry ramp. Dad, who’d rugged up Thumper and tied him to the side of the lorry, came to join us. He sat down.
‘Sure no one saw?’ he murmured.
‘No.’
‘Right. Then stay shtum. These things happen.’
I thought this over a moment. Suddenly I was on my feet, furious. I pointed my finger at him; it waggled a bit. ‘You see? That’s where I’ve got it from! My criminal tendencies! It’s learned behaviour! That’s what you’ve taught me, what
‘Well, no, actually. I’d have owned up at the time.’
‘Would you?’ I crumpled instantly, aghast. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that. Oh, Dad, I wish I had!’ I wailed. ‘But in the heat of the moment – so many scary people, so fierce-looking … And it’s a bit late now, isn’t it?’
‘Exactly, after the event. Just let sleeping dogs … well.’ He stopped awkwardly realizing where that was going. ‘It’s a serious occurrence, though, in the hunting world, Poppy.’
‘
‘Oh, piffle,’ said Jennie staunchly. ‘They’ve got hundreds of the bloody things. And let’s not get too carried away here;
‘Would have been better,’ I said gloomily.
Dad nodded in sober agreement. ‘She’s right, Jennie.’
‘Which just shows how bloody stupid the whole thing is! I mean, they’re out to kill an animal anyway, aren’t they? And it’s only a bloody dog. Christ, I wish it had been Leila. She escaped, incidentally, joined the pack, briefly.’
‘Really?’ I raised my head. Even in my despair this was diverting.
‘Oh, yes. Was galloping joyously in the middle of all those dogs in her zany collar, looking very Vivienne Westwood, until your dad managed to persuade a guy on a quad bike to nab her. And you think you’ve blotted your copy book.’
I knew she was trying to make me feel better but as I drove her car home later, Jennie having gone with Dan, who’d come in his Land Rover, my father returning with Thumper, I felt the world was on my shoulders.
‘Chatham House rules, OK, love?’ Dad had said, before he left.
‘What are they?’
‘Mum’s the word.’
‘Oh. OK.’
Mum’s the word, I thought gloomily. Until somehow it leaked out. Which it would. And then heaven knows what the word would be. Murderess? Coward? Witch? I cringed behind the wheel. Clemmie was making Archie laugh in the back, imitating me. ‘Mummy riding,’ she was saying, holding imaginary reins right up under her chin, eyes and mouth wide with terror, bouncing in her car seat. And Archie was laughing as only a two-year-old can: as if he was going to be sick. I tried to count my blessings, which seemed to me to be just two. Those two in the back. No chance now with Sam of course; I’d blown that entirely. In fact I couldn’t quite imagine what planet I’d been on to allow it to cross my mind. He was so far out of my league, with his smart friends and his manor house, he was practically in a different stratosphere. And did I want all that, anyway? Imagine having to hunt every week. Having a near-death experience on a regular basis with all those terrifying people. No. I purred down my lane. That whole way of life was not for me: it was too fast, too glamorous,
As I drew up outside my cottage I saw someone ringing my doorbell: a man. Oh God, had they come for me already? I got out warily. But as he turned around I saw it was only Luke, who smiled when he saw me. I relaxed. This man, however, with a face
