Page 33 of Love and Loathing

“Checking for blood?” he asked.

She jumped, caught out. “Stray feathers. Orphan tears.”

He gave a wry smile. “Yes. Orphan tears are just the things for washing one’s hands clean. Macbeth should have tried it.”

“Does this put my father in the role of Lady Macbeth?”

He laughed. “God forbid.”

She laughed, too, and they rounded the corner to find the others waiting for them. She knew what they must look like, walking into the scene grinning at each other, holding hands.Amy gave her a quizzical look that threatened many questions. Hugo winked then started whistling, squinting innocently up at the trees with his hands in his pockets. Though probably only because he knew it annoyed their father.

They set off again, Aubrey being called over to join the three grown-ups, who clearly seemed to think the autumn woods the perfect place for a spot of tax-dodging. Evie found herself at the back with Hugo and Amy.

“My sister the actress,” started Hugo. “Never knew you had such a talent for it.”

“Shut up.”

“If you weren’t so anti-establishment, you ought to consider MI5. This deep undercover thing might be your forte.”

“Again. Shut up.”

“Not a hundred percent sure on the ethical aspects of honey-trapping your man…”

“For the love of God, please stop talking.”

“He doesn’t,” Amy said, leaning around from Hugo’s other side. “Not ever.”

“True,” agreed Hugo. “Poor Amy.”

“I think we can all agree,Poor Amy,” Evie snapped.

Hugo let out a whistle. “You’re touchy when you’re faking a romance.”

Amy sighed and stepped around behind Hugo to Evie’s side, taking her arm and giving Hugo an admonishing look. After a mild hesitation, she leant in to Evie and whispered, “It is still fake, right?”

“Yes!”

“OK, OK. Just checking.”

They caught up with the others at the edge of the wood. The path they had followed had wound gradually upwards through the trees, and now they were about halfway up a hill, the wood breaking at the edge of a grassy pasture that sloped back downto the low, broad valley in which Conyers House stood, the lake glinting softly in the lowering evening sun at the bottom.

“Now we head back through the quarter pasture,” her father said. “I’ll show you the lake and the boat house. Excellent fishing.”

“Where does this path go?” Aubrey asked, nodding towards one that led steeply up the hill, back into the wood.

“The view point,” Evie said.

“Worth the climb?”

“Yes.”

“We all need to head down to change in time for dinner,” said her father. “Come on.” He glanced at Hugo and Amy. “You two can explain to Domnall about how you’ve been looking after the place—what goes into making a classic English estate.”

Amy managed to look almost enthusiastic about this proposal, Hugo less so.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the view,” Domnall said. “But my legs prefer the thought of heading down. You go ahead, though, Aubrey. You young kids can do the climb.” And he set off down the hill, towing Liv with him. He was rather red and sweaty, but his generosity towards Aubrey’s wishes probably had more to do with what Evie had observed from her position behind the group: Liv twice asking Aubrey for help over a stile, and once taking his hand while she nervously—allegedly—crossed a fallen log over a stream, miraculously managing to stumble laughingly into his arms at the end.

Aubrey paused, watching the others leave. Evie glanced at him.

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