That’s when I see the little streak of beige by Elliot’s feet. Aldous, running full pelt, his tongue lolling out of his open, panting mouth, and he looks absolutely delighted and very much like a real dog, paws clawing at the stones, his back undulating like a greyhound in full pursuit. He must have sneaked back to the shop for a snooze after all.
Every now and then Aldous looks up into Elliot’s face as if asking whether Elliot’s pleased with him and whether he’s a good boy or not. I can see now I’m not the only one who’d grown grateful for Elliot’s presence and had missed him when he disappeared. I supposed that’s what happens when someone saves your life. So we run all the way Up-along, the three of us, though Elliot’s the only one amongst us who knows why.
‘Elliot! What are you doing?’ I cry as we make it to flat ground at last and break into a sprint past the tourist concessions at the top of the village. The sight of the surfy clothes shop sparks a memory and I try to tell Elliot through gasped breaths – I really am absolutely knackered now and Elliot’s pace is not letting up – about the robbers.
‘It’s OK about the money,’ I pant. ‘You know it was stolen, right? By the… (deep gasp) distraction… (rushed exhale)… thieves.’
We’ve crossed the car park now and the estate entrance is in sight. Elliot doesn’t even glance at me on hearing the words. I’m lagging behind now, even though he’s still clasping my hand.
‘What money?’ is all he says, and a strained laugh erupts from my chest.
I’ve been so worried about something he wasn’t even aware of, and whatever his dark secret is, the thing that made him bolt, I’m still none the wiser. We’re on completely different pages, and I think we have been from the start.
There’s nobody in Izaak’s booth as we pass. He must be down at the hunt with Leonid already.
‘Elliot, please can we just slow down!’
A tannoy sparks into life somewhere over by the big house and a voice carries on the still summer morning air. ‘Welcome to the Clove Lore estate fox and field day and annual hunting party.’ It’s Minty; there’s no mistaking her upper-class tones. A ripple of applause is broadcast over the PA system too.
‘There’ll be no hunt in Clove Lore today, not if I can help it,’ Elliot shouts, his pace quickening.
He drops my hand and I watch him sprint ahead, across the wide, beautifully manicured lawns and past the marquee, and Aldous finds the energy from somewhere to carry on, skipping along by his side, letting out a sharp yap of excitement every now and then.
There’s no sign of the crowds so everyone must be congregating over on the other side of the house by now. I run, trying to keep up, but there’s a stitch in my side.
‘Elliot, stop, what are you up to?’ My cries are futile; he’s not going to stop.
Minty’s announcements continue and I force myself to run in Elliot’s wake, my legs turning to jelly as I reach the very limits of my endurance. Elliot leaps over a low hedge and rounds the side of the big house, passing into its shadow then disappearing from my view.
‘It gives me great pleasure to continue my family’s traditions by hosting this great event once more,’ Minty proclaims. ‘Please enjoy the hunt – while stayingoffthe planted areas of the gardens, if you don’t mind! Keep a close eye on your little ones, and please join me in the countdown to releasing the foxes.’
‘Oh my God!’ I scream. I’m almost at the house now and I can hear the excited countdown, loud and jolly, a few hundred voices united, ‘Five, four, three…’
Elliot’s right; we have to stop this hunt. What kind of weirdo wicker-man kind of community rips foxes apart in front of kids in broad daylight? I can hear dogs barking; one of them is definitely Aldous’s high-pitched yip.
‘…Two, one,’ the crowd cheer.
I clear the side of the big house and turn left following the sounds and am immediately halted by the great crowd, their backs to me, some with toddlers raised on shoulders, all crying out happily, ‘Release the foxes!’
I push my way through the gathering, not caring that it’s rude and I’m sweating all over these bonkers, blood-thirsty barbarians.
I hear Elliot shouting before I see him. ‘STOP! There will be no illegal hunt on this land today!’ He’s right in the middle of the knot garden, his arms stretched up towards Minty who’s standing on a white balcony, much like Evita but in a waxed gilet, and she’s only just noticed Elliot the interloper.
The shock contorts her face, but it’s too late; the crowds are cheering for the foxes, and some of the people standing closest to Elliot are jeering and laughing and dogs on leads are yapping all around us. Aldous is nowhere to be seen.
All at once every window on the upper floor of the big house springs open and uniformed staff in red hunting jackets and black velvet hats lean out and start pelting the gathered crowd with… well,what are they?
My question’s answered as I finally get within touching distance of Elliot and see his expression turn from horrified outrage and stoic dynamism to utter confusion as a big stuffed animal bonks him on the head.
‘They’re toy foxes, you lumbering idiot!’ Minty shouts into her microphone, just as three red-faced, stocky men in camouflage hunting gear wrestle Elliot to the ground.
There are stuffed cubs and vixens falling all around us, landing in bushes and scattered across the parterre, and a great swathe of little kids stumble around trying to grab at the plushies before their siblings and friends can.
‘Oh!’ I hear Elliot say as he realises his horrible, embarrassing error, just a second before Bovis, Minty’s neckless estate manager, lies across Elliot’s shoulders, shouting, ‘Got ’im!’
The crowds are laughing and clapping delightedly, most of them oblivious to Elliot’s failed heroics, and my own laugh hitches a little in my throat as I watch Aldous emerge from the rumpus of delighted kids all searching for a toy of their own, as more stuffed animals rain down on the gardens from above, and the devoted, scruffy little Bedlington sits delightedly beside the man he owes his life to, proudly presenting the struggling, confounded, and decidedly flattened-looking Elliot with a cuddly toy fox.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
