Alexandra stepped out first, shielding her eyes against the sun. The grounds were immaculate. The gardeners had been in, and the flower beds along the approach were blazing with late-summer colour. She could see two of the labradors trotting across the main lawn with the purposeful air of dogs who had places to be, and beyond them the stone terrace where the housekeeper was already setting out a tray.
A small figure appeared from the direction of the house, moving at speed. Hyzenthlay. Vic’s daughter. She was wearing dungarees and wellies and her light brown hair was escapingfrom its ponytail in all directions. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the landing pad and waved with both arms, grinning broadly.
"Hello! You're early! I've been working on my game all morning. It's nearly finished. You have to see it, I added a dragon that does maths?—"
Frank was already unbuckling. "A dragon that does MATHS?"
"It's educational," Hyzenthlay said, with the serious tone of someone who found the word educational deeply impressive. "Mama J. says it could be a real app."
Hyzenthlay was fiercely intelligent, way beyond her eight years, perhaps to genius level, and highly tech savvy. Alexandra wondered what her future held.
Frank clambered out of the helicopter, Matilda close behind him. The three children immediately fell into step together, Frank and Hyzenthlay talking over each other about the dragon while Matilda walked between them, listening and nodding and occasionally interjecting a question.
Florence hung back. She stood at the helicopter door with her hand on the frame, watching the paddock. The morning sun caught her ash-blonde hair and turned it white-gold. Her face was bright with anticipation.
"Florence?" Alexandra held out her hand. "Aren't you going with the others to look at Hyzenthlay’s game?”
"I want to ride." Florence's chin was set. "Is Auntie Vic at the stables?"
Hyzenthlay turned back, already five paces ahead. "Mum's been down there since six. She's been schooling each of her horses in the arena. She said she'd be there all morning if you wanted her."
Florence looked at Alexandra. The question was in her eyes, not her mouth. She'd learned early that asking directlysometimes got a quicker no than simply looking hopeful. It was a technique she'd perfected, and it worked on Alexandra every single time.
"Go on," Alexandra said. "I'll take you down to the stables. Erin, you'll take Frank and Matilda inside?"
Erin was already in step with them, Matilda's small hand wrapped around two of Erin's fingers. "Got them. Say hello to Vic for me. Tell her I want a proper ride this weekend, not the gentle amble she gave me last time."
"It was a canter."
"It was a fast walk and she knows it."
Alexandra took Florence's hand and they walked together down the gravel path that curved away from the main house towards the stable block. The path was lined with ancient oaks whose canopy threw dappled shadows across the ground, and the air was thick with birdsong and the warm, rich smell of horses that grew stronger with every step. Florence's hand was small and cool in hers, her fingers gripping tight, her feet moving fast enough that Alexandra had to lengthen her stride to keep up.
The stable block was a beautiful old building: honey-coloured stone, a clock tower with a weathervane shaped like a galloping horse, wide arched doorways that opened onto a cobbled yard. Half a dozen horses looked out over their stable doors, ears pricked at the sound of footsteps. A tabby cat was asleep on a mounting block in a patch of sun. The grooms were moving between stalls with hay nets and water buckets, and the whole place had that organised, purposeful calm that Alexandra associated with people who understood animals.
Victoria Grey-Hughes-Wilding, Alex’s oldest friend, was in the arena. Alex could see her through the open gate: lean and athletic on a big bay gelding, her long light brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail beneath her helmet, her heels deep inthe stirrups, her hands quiet on the reins. She was riding circles, the horse bending smoothly around her inside leg, his neck arched, his footfalls rhythmic on the arena surface. Vic rode the way she did everything, with an intensity that looked effortless but was the product of decades of discipline.
She spotted them and pulled up, her face splitting into a grin. "There she is! My favourite riding buddy!"
Florence released Alexandra's hand and ran to the arena fence. "Auntie Vic! Is that Thompson? He's enormous!"
"He's a big boy, isn't he?" Vic dismounted in one fluid motion and led the horse over. Thompson dropped his head and snuffled at Florence's outstretched hand with velvet lips. Florence giggled and stroked his nose.
“You can ride out with us, if it is ok with your mum?”
Florence spun to face Alexandra so fast she nearly tripped. "Please."
Alexandra looked at Vic. Her oldest friend was flushed from the exercise, her hazel eyes bright, her grin wide and uncomplicated. Vic had that quality, the ability to make everything feel simple. The world was horses and loyalty and saying exactly what you meant, and everything else was just noise.
"You'll keep her on the path?" Alexandra said.
"Cross my heart. We'll go through the south woods, down to the stream, loop back through the long field. Hour and a half, tops."
"And a bodyguard?"
"Officer Jennings." Vic nodded towards a man in dark clothing leaning against the stable block wall, fit and alert, his eyes scanning the treeline. "Helena assigned him. He's going to ride Gloria. Apparently he's quite handy in the saddle."
Alexandra studied Jennings for a moment. He had the build and bearing of a Protection Officer: solid, watchful, quietly competent. He caught her eye and gave a respectful nod.
