“Scarpered, mate. Flapped his wings, took off, did one lap overhead, and disappeared. To be fair, I think that’s why Derek’s screaming.”
The head medic appeared in the doorway, and Indira barked instructions at him. It was then my eyes caught the monitor showing the live feed from the camera we had trained on our “fox.” My heart sank. I pointed to the monitor.
“What now?” Indira barked.
“Ithinksomeone has kidnapped the actor Samuel Fox,” I said.
Chapter 18
William
The footage of the “fox hunt” was completely unusable. We’d cost the production tens of thousands of pounds, which Indira intended to deduct from Buckford’s estate hire fee. No matter what demands the cursed letter from HMRC contained, the loss of cash would hurt. But principles are principles, right? Indira said the best sound guy she’d ever worked with had been injured (we had apologised profusely) and was now on leave—although whether he was on leave because he’d broken his arm, his emotional support duck had done a runner, or his first aid had been administered by a pair of bare-breasted, rain-soaked hedge witches was still unclear. What was clear was that the kidnapping charges would not stick. The police found Samuel Fox in the village pub, getting merrily drunk with Uncle Leaf, standing on the bar reciting T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” to rapturous applause from the locals. So far, so good. But Petey Boy hadn’t spoken to me for over a week. The atmosphere when he arrived at the folly each evening was frosty at best. This space had enough difficult memories without this unpleasantness. It was absolutely killing me. I’d wanted to be chums. I’d wanted to get to know him.
I was sitting in Dad’s armchair in the study, readingThe Knight’s Vow, the secondKnights-Errantnovel, the brown HMRC envelope shoved down the side of the cushion so I didn’t have to look at it. Young Prince Henry was now young King Henry, and the teenage lust between him and Sir Gawain had mellowed and matured into something deeper—a kinship all around them envied.
The door downstairs clicked open.
“Petey Boy?”
I moved to the top of the staircase. Petey Boy looked up at me, his eyebrows flicking an acknowledgement, then he moved out of sight.
“How was your day?”
Still no answer, so I bounced down the stairs. Petey Boy stared, his face clearly unimpressed.
“Do you have anything else you can wear? Anything at all?” he said. Yep, definitely unimpressed. He looked tired too.
“These are my jimmy-jams.”
Petey Boy rolled his eyes. “You’ve been wearing the same pair of red boxers this whole time. It’s gross.”
“Bramley washes them every other day,” I protested. “In Fairy Non-Bio. I assume because I have enough Fairy Bio as it is.”
He didn’t laugh.
“They barely cover you. It’s obscene.”
I leant my bum against the kitchenette and folded my arms. “I’m getting the sense you’re mad at me about something.”
Petey Boy’s eyes flared. “You’re joking, mate. You know exactly why I’m pissed at you. It’s quite the list. For starters, you made me look like an idiot in front of the whole cast and crew.”
“In the carriage court, you mean?”
“You know that’s what I mean.”
I supposed it was why my boxers had set him off tonight; they reminded him of the other day.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’d meant to pull on some trousers before I went down, but the blasted window?—”
“You undermined me. In front of everyone.” Petey started unbuttoning his boiler suit, revealing his white vest.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was angry. I could have handled it better.”
“Derek had to be taken to hospital. They’ve upped his anxiety meds. You know he’s off the show?”
“Yes, I’m very sorry about that too,” I said. “If there’s anything I can do?—”
“You sabotaged an entire day’s filming.” Petey tied the sleeves of his boiler suit around his waist, yanking them tight. I got the sense he wished he was tightening them around my neck.
