Page 25 of Love and Loathing

Amy laughed. “Not yet.”

Aubrey studied the donkeys for a moment. “Spanish, I presume. Given the names.” He looked at Evie. “Your donkeys. From your Spanish sanctuary. The one that got shut down.”

She paused, surprised he’d remembered, occupying herself with a long stroke of Panza’s ear before replying. “Yes. They were all I could afford to save. I had them shipped to England. Amy has stables at Redbridge. I knew they’d have a good home there.”

Amy smiled. “The new stars of our petting farm. Seemed like we may as well do it, given we’ve already got pigs, sheep, and chickens. The visitors love them. They’ve had a very spoilt summer.”

Evie grinned, studying the fat donkeys, their dusty, shaggy coats. They’d never look smart, but they were vastly improved from the starving, mangy things that had arrived at the sanctuary. “They’re looking gorgeous, Amy. Were you bringing them to see me?”

“Yes. And to persuade you to let me drag you back to Redbridge and spend the day.”

“As if I need persuading! I was heading there anyway. I’ve no desire to be at Conyers today.”

Amy flashed Aubrey a speculative look. He was frowning at the donkeys as though he’d never seen one in his life. Perhaps he hadn’t. He stretched out a tentative hand. Quixote gave it a polite sniff.

“Aubrey’s here with my father. On business,” Evie said, although she’d already told Amy and Hugo all this last night. But Amy’s expression seemed to demand the point be repeated. “They’re going to shoot some birds this morning,” she added with a sharp smile. “Apparently it’s an essential part of modern business.”

Aubrey gave her a sour look.

“You do have a choice,” she said, unable to stop herself continuing the conversation they were having before Amy arrived.

“I beg to differ.”

But Amy was watching, and Evie couldn’t give way to the emotions pressing on her. She barely knew what they were anyway. She tossed her head and tried to smile, scratching Panza’s neck with a small shrug. “Tell them you strained your arm snatching candy from babies.”

“Yes. Well. Some of those toddlersaresurprisingly strong.”

Amy laughed, then hid it guiltily because she was on Evie’s side. Surely. Had to be.

Evie had no comeback.Don’t do it,was all she could think to say.I can’t bear it. Don’t do it.She focused on Panza’s neck, on the fur and the coarse, grey-tipped guard hairs.

Aubrey waited for her to speak, or maybe he paused, trying to find his own line. Either way, they were silent for a moment. Until he gave up, bid a polite farewell to Amy, and left, headingback to the house. Evie could hear the vehicles in the yard. Men’s voices. The shooting party assembling.

“Interesting man,” said Amy casually.

“Awful man.”

“Good sense of humour.”

“Strange, twisted sense of humour.”

“Young—”

“Barely.”

“Attractive, friends with Roscoe…”

“Ugh. Stop it, Amy. He’s worse than my father.”

Amy gave her a look.

“OK,” Evie conceded. “Not worse. But same ballpark. Besides…” She gave Panza’s neck a firm pat, sending up a cloud of dust. “You like Hugo. I don’t trust your taste in men at all.”

Even from Redbridge, Evie occasionally caught the sound of distant shots, carried on the air. She tensed each time, a shudder going through her.

Amy, who was working alongside her, the two of them tidying up vegetable beds in Redbridge’s walled garden ready for winter, grimaced in sympathy. “I know it’s horrid. Try not to think about it.”

It was a common enough sound in the autumn months, especially around here. Evie had thought she was used to it, had finally grown out of the childish softness that sent her running in tears to her room every time the shots rang out in the field or the hounds in full voice led the horses galloping. But today, her mind was there, among the tweed and the clack of loading shells and the smell of guns and the good-natured, hard-working gundogs, their panting breath foggy in the air.

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