‘You did. Quite dramatically. But I suppose any faint is dramatic; I’ve just never seen anyone do it before.’
‘God, how embarrassing. I’m so sorry.’ My eyes roved around. ‘Am I supposed to say: where am I? Where am I?’
He grinned. ‘In the senior partner’s room, the only one with a sofa.’
‘Christ –’ I struggled to move. He put a hand on my shoulder.
‘Don’t panic, he’s in Mauritius. You could stay there for another ten days and he wouldn’t be any the wiser.’
‘Water?’ Janice proffered the glass anxiously.
‘Um, thank you.’ I managed to half sit, although Sam sort of helped me. This was beyond embarrassing.
‘Did you eat any breakfast, dear?’ Janice was asking as I sipped. ‘Or have you got your monthlies?’
I flushed, mortified, which was impressive given my pallor. ‘Um, no. I mean, I didn’t have any breakfast.’
‘Well, there you are, then,’ she scolded as I sank back again. ‘You young girls, running around with nothing in your tummies. Oh, those wretched phones.’
They were indeed jumping off the desk behind us.
‘Please get it,’ I begged her. ‘I’m fine, really.’
‘Well, if you’re sure …’ She looked doubtful but then scooted off to reception, handing Sam the glass and calling over her shoulder, ‘Don’t let her get up yet!’
‘Did you have to carry me here?’ I asked, appalled, as he dragged up a chair. There was something faintly psychoanalytical about our configuration now as he sat at my head. I quickly unlaced my fingers on my chest.
‘Well, between us, yes. You don’t weigh much, though, Poppy. Janice is right, you should eat more.’
It was a long time since anyone had said anything like that to me: Phil certainly hadn’t and Dad wouldn’t notice. Mum. It would have been Mum, then. I looked up at him. Lovely eyes. Greeny-brown, and sort of flecked with hazel. Suddenly I remembered why I was here.
‘Shit – the dog!’
‘Ah yes, Peddler. But you know, these things happen, particularly in the country, Poppy. People get very worked up at the time, but he was an old hound, and he died doing what he loved most. Not such a bad way to go, surely?’
‘Was he? Old? Not a puppy?’
‘No, no, at least twelve. And it wasn’t you who kicked him, don’t forget. And anyway, it was hardly premeditated.’
‘Yes, but I didn’t own up.’
‘Well, you have now. And at the time I imagine you just panicked. We all do that.’
‘Really?’ I gazed up at the calm, kind face above me. Hard to imagine he ever did. I must get up. Must get off this sodding couch. I felt ridiculous.
‘Here.’ He held my arm as I swung my legs around, but in my haste my skirt got hitched up along the way so that I flashed far more leg than I’d have liked and I saw him avert his eyes, embarrassed. But I felt better, actually. I’d admitted my crime. And out loud, twenty-four hours later, it didn’t seem so heinous. He was right: it had been my horse, not me, and the hound had died in its natural habitat, doing its job. Although the huntsman might not see it like that, I supposed. I remembered him taking his hat off, passing a hand across his shattered face.
‘I’d like to explain to the huntsman. Mark, isn’t it? Apologize. Tell him what happened, face to face.’
For some reason Sam looked as if I’d handed him half of my inheritance. His eyes shone. ‘D’you know, I think he’d like that. Thank you, Poppy. I’ll give you his address.’
And he did, together with his phone number, when I’d followed him back into his office, pushing Archie. As he turned and handed me the piece of paper, he held my eyes for just a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
‘How’s the book club?’ he asked suddenly.
I blinked, wrong-footed. ‘Oh, pretty much disbanded, sadly. I think the party line is Literary Differences.’ I made ironic quotation marks in the air then realized I hated it when people did that. ‘Most of us wanted to read rollicking commercial fiction, which we knew we’d enjoy and polish off by the following week, and then gather for a chat and a bit of a party. But then we were given a really hard book to read and we all sort of gave up.’
‘Oh. Shame. Who suggested the hard book?’
‘Hope Armitage.’
‘Ah.’
