It was still pitch black when the alarm on Rafe’s phone started to bleep, the sound tearing cruelly into the peacefullyslumbering lovers’ brains. Rafe and Sage lay together, their limbs still entwined from when they had finally fallen asleep a few hours ago. Sage moaned, longing to fall back into a deep sleep with the comforting warmth of Rafe’s body beside her. He put a hand on her cheek and spoke softly, not wanting to wake Hal in the next room.
‘My love … I’m afraid I’ve got to go. I have a runner at Kempton today and need to be there for the owners. Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?’
Sage sat up groggily, leaning against the dusty headboard, leaving her jumbled technicolour dreams where they lay on the feather pillow.
‘I think I must go to meet Casper, as much as I’d like to come with you, Rafe.’ She smiled regretfully; her face shone up at him amidst the debris of the tangled bed sheets, full of uncomplicated love. ‘I need to see him.’ She was determined now to return to Newmarket and face the problem of Santiago and Casper head on.
‘And you definitely don’t want to tell him?’ Rafe did not like her carrying the burden alone.
‘Just give me some time. If I can’t get Santiago to leave us alone after a few days, then I will tell Cas. I promise.’
Going down to breakfast some hours later, Sage clasped Hal’s hand tightly as they descended the stairs. She squared her shoulders, readying herself to come up against Mary again.
Sure enough the tussle began the moment Sage entered the kitchen. Mary sat at the table, with Mrs M scurrying about bringing her coffee in a silver pot, the papers straight from a boy on a bicycle from the village, and a cooked breakfast that lay untouched on a plate that had been imperiously pushed aside.
‘Morning, Mrs M. Hello, Mary – are you not hungry? I can’t resist Mrs M’s delicious cooking,’ Sage said stoutly.
‘Yes, I can see that you like your grub,’ came the icy reply from behind theDaily Telegraph.
Sage looked at Mrs M, shrugging her shoulders. Mrs M rolled her eyes; there was little she could do without overstepping her place.
‘Good morning, Sage, Hal. Sit down, you two. There’s bacon in the pan and I’ll just put on some more eggs,’ she said gently, doing her best to calm the highly charged atmosphere.
Sage sat down but Hal approached Mrs M, touched her hand and said beseechingly in his high, clear voice, ‘Are there any eggs for Tarka, please, Mrs M?’
‘If Mrs M asks you to sit down, then you ought tosit down,’ Mary snapped, putting down the paper. ‘Where’s Rafe – bolted already?’ she all but snarled.
‘Wow, I’m going to need a long spoon to sup with you this morning,’ Sage muttered, refusing to be baited.
Mary looked at her blankly.
‘Where’s Kestrel?’ Sage asked
‘He’s sulking outside on the wall.’ Mary returned to the paper.
Dropping a kiss on Hal’s head, Sage left him sitting at the table waiting for Mrs M to finish the eggs. He wisely chose the seat furthest away from Mary. She picked up the coffee that Mrs M had poured for her and fled outside with it.
Stepping out into the pale light of a fresh new morning, Sage sucked the clean air deep into her lungs. The storm had blown itself out in the early hours and the sodden, brown hills now slumbered peacefully in the weak sunshine. Kestrel sat cross-legged on the wall gazing out into the distance, his back turned on the house.
‘Morning. Are you all right, Kestrel?’ Sage asked, clutching her coffee cup and savouring the warmth.
He swivelled round to look at her. ‘Good morning, lovely Sage. I am summoning my courage,’ he said theatrically, allowing a smile to creep onto his face, easing the tense muscles.
‘What for?’ Sage shuffled onto the wall beside him. ‘You going to jump?’ she teased.
‘Sort of … I am taking the plunge. I am going to tell mybloodysister that I’m selling the London house.’ Kestrel looked terrified, for all his bravado. Sage put a hand on his arm and then pulled him closer to embrace him.
‘Want me to tell her? I think I’d probably enjoy it. She’s monstrous.’ Sage let him go and he patted her fondly on the shoulder.
‘No, no. It’s something I’ve got to do myself. You’re right, though – she’s a nightmare. She told me this morning that she is going to tell Mama that I need to be “shipped off to rehab”. That’s before I’ve told her I’m selling her home. She is going to kill me …’ He paused. ‘I know I drink too much but I haven’t always been like this, Sage. It was losing the castle, you see – the guilt of sending all the loyal servants away from their homes. But I won’t have to now. Most of them haven’t left – the ones that had nowhere to go are still there. They can all stay now. I cannot tell you how much lighter my heart feels. I’ll stop drinking. I’ll be too busy running the estate.’ Kestrel’s eyes were feverishly bright – he had almost convinced himself. He looked pleadingly at Sage. ‘They can’t ship me off if I don’t want to go, can they?’
‘No, of course they can’t. Go on, tell her – take the bull by the horns. I’ll run in to save you if you get gored.’ Sage pushed him off the wall encouragingly.
‘Promise?’ Kestrel looked to her for reassurance, his long arms stretched out to steady him, off balance.
‘I promise.’
Once a histrionic Mary had slammed out of the front door and driven off in her shiny sports car in a raging temper, Sage and Hal hugged Mrs M goodbye and climbed back into Kestrel’s rickety Toyota. Kestrel was in much better spirits, high on the adrenaline of standing up to Mary at last, which proved to beno mean feat. He whistled to himself as he opened the boot to let the impatiently waiting wolfhounds jump in.
