by Sk Quinn
‘Yes. They own a farm nearby.’
‘They’re farmers? They don’t look the type.’
‘They live on a farm. I didn’t say they farmed it.’
‘What was all that? About Crystal?’
‘She’s their sister.’ Patrick sits on a fallen tree trunk, his elbows rested on his long legs. He rubs his face with his hands.
‘And?’
‘I fucked her. A long time ago.’
A horrible, icky jealous feeling creeps up through my legs.
‘Oh,’ I manage to say.
‘It was a long time before I met you. And it was a big mistake.’
‘Did you like her?’
‘I hardly even knew her.’
‘Was she pretty?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It does to me. Was she?’
‘Why do women always ask questions like that?’ Patrick looks up at the tree branches. ‘She was pretty. In a manner of speaking.’
Wrong answer.
I want to hit him.
‘I wish you’d lie sometimes.’
‘Take a seat.’ Patrick pats the tree trunk.
Grudgingly I sit beside him. The fox wriggles a little, but settles in my lap.
‘It doesn’t matter who I fucked before you,’ says Patrick. ‘You know why?’
‘Why?’ I say, my voice all sullen like a sulky teenager.
‘I told you already. Because you’re my first love.’
That shuts me up.
Patrick stares out at the trees. ‘The girls who came before … none of them even come close to you.’
‘For someone who’s completely tactless, you really do say the right things sometimes.’
Patrick frowns. ‘The Thorburns won’t ride again today. But Regan will want his kill. One way or another.’ He looks down at the fox and shakes his head. ‘All this trouble over that little thing.’
‘I had to save him,’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean to start any trouble.’
‘You haven’t,’ says Patrick. ‘At least, no trouble that wasn’t there already.’
‘What was all that?’ I ask tentatively. ‘About your sister?’
‘Anise used to follow Regan Thorburn around like a little lost puppy dog. She and my cousin Zara had a thing for losers. Boys who raced motorbikes. Or spent all day in the pub. Thankfully she’s grown up a little now. At least I thought she had.’
‘Oh.’ I bite my lip. ‘Are you going to make me set the fox free?’
‘What do you take me for?’
‘You said fox hunts were like nature.’
‘This fox is just a cub. It’s barely even had a chance at life. Regan should know better than to hunt one as small as this. But then ... I’m thinking of him as a man with a few shreds of decency.’
‘What did Regan mean?’ I ask. ‘About Bertie’s father?’
‘He was stirring. That’s all. Reminding me that the Mansfield family name isn’t whiter than white. As if I didn’t already know.’
‘What does Bertie’s father have to do with him anyway?’ I ask.
‘Far, far too much.’ Patrick grabs the fox’s nose. He pulls back its lips and examines its teeth. ‘But that’s a story for Anise to tell. If she wants to tell it.’
‘Oh.’ I’m burning with curiosity now. But I don’t want to challenge Patrick. Clearly he’s protecting his sister and I respect that.
‘He’s old enough to chew bones,’ says Patrick, dropping the fox’s nose. ‘We’ll take him to the Mansfield woods. Then you’re to let him go. Understand? No need to confuse the poor little fellow any more. He’ll start thinking you’re his mammy.’
I stiffen. ‘But what if he runs back out here? To this part of the woods?’
‘He won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because he won’t survive long enough. He’s too tame. The Thorburns must have kept him as a pet. Reared him and then set him free to hunt.’
‘So … what’ll happen to him?’ I say, cuddling the fox tighter.
‘He’ll curl up in a hole somewhere and be dead by dawn.’
‘He’ll die if we leave him?’
‘Yes. But at least he’ll be spared being ripped apart by dogs.’
‘Can’t we find his mother?’
Patrick shakes his head. ‘She’ll be dead already. The Thorburns would have hunted her. Anyway. He’s too old to be milk fed.’
‘I won’t let him die. Not all alone in the woods.’
‘Then what do you plan to do with him?’
‘Look after him.’
Patrick laughs. ‘You’re going to be the fox cub’s mammy? This is the country, Seraphina. It’s wild out here. We don’t nurse foxes like babies. Some live, some die. That’s life.’
33
I hold the cub fiercely to my chest. It’s still quivering. ‘You can say what you like. This little fox jumped right into my arms and I’m going to take care of him.’
‘How exactly?’
‘I don’t know. Give him food. Keep him warm.’
‘He’s not a pet, Seraphina. He’s a wild animal.’
‘So you keep saying. But children are born wild too. And I’ve cared for plenty of them. I’m not going to change my mind, Patrick. This cub stays with me.’
Patrick stares at me for a moment. Then he says: ‘Fine. If you want to make a pet of a fox cub I won’t stop you. But he’s not coming into the castle. You’ll have to care for him outside.’
‘Okay.’
‘And if he gets sick or won’t eat, then I’ll do him a kindness and snap his neck. Agreed?’
‘Not agreed. I’ll take him to a vet.’
‘Not many vets specialise in foxes.’
‘Then I’ll find one who does.’
‘Well. I can’t pretend it won’t be interesting. Seeing you trying to teach a fox cub good manners.’
I turn the little fox and pick him up under his front legs, holding his nose near mine.
His black eyes are filled with fear and he gives a whimper.
‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘I won’t let you die. Okay? I’m going to take care of you.’
Patrick laughs again. ‘He’s not a baby, Seraphina. He’s a wild animal. Move him any closer and he’ll bite your nose off.’
‘No he won’t.’ I lower the fox cub and tuck him under my arm. Then I unzip my jacket and fold him inside.
‘Careful putting him close to you like that,’ says Patrick. ‘He’s probably full of fleas.’
‘I don’t care if he is.’
‘Have you had your rabies shot?’
‘Yes. Years ago.’
‘Good. He could give you a nasty bite.’
‘He won’t hurt me,’ I say calmly. ‘He knows I’m here to look after him.’
The fox snuggles against my stomach and tucks his nose under his leg. He closes his eyes.
‘Well now.’ Patrick looks into my jacket, a half smile on his face. ‘Will you look at that? You can add animal charmer to your list of skills.’
‘Can we go back to the castle now?’ I ask. ‘I need to feed him.’
‘So you’re planning on feeding the little mongrel yourself?’
‘He doesn’t have a mum to do it.’
‘Okay. Let’s get you and the fox cub back to the castle. You can play nursemaid there. I’ll get Gregory to set up a nest and he can teach you all about raising a wild animal.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling the warmth of the fox against my stomach. He’s fallen asleep now, and I hear the gentle rhythm of his breathing.
Patrick shakes his head. ‘Don’t thank me. This is a decision I might live to regret.’ Suddenly he glares at the trees.
‘Patrick?’
‘Shush!’
I snap my mouth closed and listen. But I hear nothing.
‘Stay still and be quiet.’ Patrick steps in front of me. ‘Someone’s coming.’
34
Patrick raises his rifle and points it at the trees.
I feel the heat of his broad back.
He stays as still as a statue, training the rifle barrel slowly back and forth.
It’s only then I hear it – the tiniest of rustling sounds. But the rustling could be anything. A bird, a squirrel.
Then the rustling turns into footsteps, crunching on the twigs and leaves.
A man-shaped shadow appears between the trees.
‘Patrick!’ I yell, pointing.
Patrick lowers his rifle and smiles.
‘You’d never make a tracker,’ Patrick shouts at the stranger. ‘I could hear your clumsy boots a mile away.’
A man pushes through trees. He’s tall and lean like Patrick, but with reddish brown hair. His dimples make him look young and boyish, but his eyes tell me he’s close to Patrick’s age.
‘So I’m lucky you didn’t shoot me?’ the man shouts, striding towards us. He has a clipped English accent – posh, like some of the girls at Wila’s school.
Patrick and the man stand for a moment, watching each other. Then they both laugh and slap each other’s shoulders.
‘It’s good to see you Grey,’ says Patrick.
‘You too,’ says Grey, smiling broadly. He has twinkly blue eyes with crinkles at the sides, but he’s probably only thirty or so. I think he must have had a lot of sun on his face in his time.
‘Did Rab send you?’ Patrick asks.
‘Yep. There’s news. Veronica Daniels is representing your father.’
‘Well, well, well,’ says Patrick. ‘It’s a shame. I didn’t realise money meant so much to her.’
‘I never liked her,’ says Grey.
‘Nor did I.’ Patrick gives Grey a half smile. ‘You did well to find us.’
‘I know.’ Grey notices me. ‘Well hellooo. And who might this be?’
‘Seraphina,’ I say, feeling a little awkward as he shakes my hand.
‘The beautiful Seraphina. Good to meet you.’
‘Easy there, Grey,’ says Patrick.
Grey laughs and drops my hand. ‘So it’s true then? I was wondering who the girl was who tamed the Scottish dragon.’
‘Not quite tame,’ says Patrick. ‘But near enough.’
‘Domesticated then?’
Patrick laughs. ‘Not that either. This is something else.’
‘Well beautiful Seraphina,’ says Grey. ‘May I ask why you’re carrying a fox cub in your coat?’
‘The Thorburn brothers were hunting it,’ says Patrick. ‘And it decided it liked Seraphina better than their dogs.’
‘So it’s tame then?’
‘Looks that way. Seraphina wants to take it back and play nursemaid.’
‘To the castle?’ Grey laughs. ‘You’re sure you haven’t been domesticated, Patrick?’ He turns to me. ‘You, young lady, must be quite something.’
‘She is,’ says Patrick. ‘So look but don’t touch.’
Grey holds his hands up. ‘Steady on. Who said anything about touching? I was just talking to the girl.’
‘I’ve known you a long time Grey.’
‘I like women. What’s wrong with that?’
‘You see a pretty girl and on comes the charm.’
Grey raises his eyebrow, his cheeks dimpling. ‘Our Lord Mansfield talks to everyone like they’re army recruits. And calls the rest of us charmers.’
I can’t help but laugh.
Patrick smiles too. ‘Watch it soldier. You may be my best friend, but that won’t stop me putting you in line.’
‘Easy now Patrick,’ says Grey. ‘Don’t make me fight you. It’ll only end in tears. My tears granted, but tears none the less.’
‘It’s good to see you soldier. But spare the girl your charm. Okay? Think you can manage that?’
‘The girl?’ I say.
Grey laughs. ‘At last! Someone else who talks back to Lord Patrick Mansfield. I thought it was only me.’
‘Oh she talks back all right,’ says Patrick. ‘Why do you think she still has the fox cub?’
‘Lucky you like forest animals,’ Grey says in a stage whisper. ‘How else would you put up with Patrick?’
‘I’m warning you, Grey—’
‘Joke, joke.’ Grey holds his hands up again. ‘You are touchy today Patrick. It must be love.’
Patrick’s jaw goes hard. ‘It is.’
Grey’s dark brown eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. ‘Well, well! Should I start looking for a hat?’
‘You’ll have to find one that fits over that big head of yours.’
‘Oh I don’t think I’d struggle with that. Now. If you’re talking about getting trousers to fit, there I have problems …’
‘GREY—’ Patrick roars.
‘Okay, okay!’ Grey shrinks back. ‘Calm down, big man.’ He turns to me. ‘I apologise for my language Miss …?’
‘Harper,’ I say.
‘A pleasure to meet you. May I escort you two lovebirds back to the castle?’
‘I’ll lead the way,’ says Patrick, taking my hand and holding it tight.
‘So have you named the fox yet?’ Grey asks, a twinkle in his blue eyes as he walks beside us.
‘I think I’ll call him Dan Dan,’ I say. ‘After my brother. Everyone says my brother Danny has nine lives. This little cub seems to have the same kind of luck.’
‘Christ.’ Patrick puts a hand to his forehead. ‘Don’t give the bloody thing a name.’
‘Why shouldn’t it have a name?’ I say defiantly.
‘Because he’s a bloody wild animal.’
‘I thought you said we’re all animals,’ I throw back. ‘Yet someone saw fit to name you once. And I for one am glad they did.’
Grey laughs. ‘That told you off Lord Mansfield.’
‘She’s the only one I’d let get away with it.’ Patrick helps me over a rocky patch. ‘Careful there, Miss Harper. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You still don’t know these woods like I do.’
35
As the castle comes into view, Patrick says: ‘Grey, tell Rab we’re back. I’ll take Seraphina and this little mutt to the kennels.’ He rubs a hand over Dan Dan’s head.
‘No problem.’ Grey heads towards the castle.
‘I didn’t know there were kennels here,’ I say, as Patrick leads me around the castle.
‘My father used to keep greyhounds,’ says Patrick, walking me towards a set of gloomy sheds set in the undergrowth. ‘Well. Own anyway. Keep suggests he looked after then.’
‘And he kept them in these sheds?’ I ask, seeing dirty dog bowls full of rain water. By the state of those bowls, no dogs have been here for years.
‘Yes,’ says Patrick, stalking ahead and unlatching one of the sheds. ‘Your little Dan Dan can sleep in here tonight and count his blessings that he’s not out in the wind and rain.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll get Gregory to buy some puppy food. And you can feed him until you realise that rearing a wild animal isn’t as fun as you thought.’
‘I’m not doing it for the fun of it,’ I say. ‘I’m not some dizzy teenager wanting to look after a baby cub. I’m doing it because I don’t want him to die.’ I look at the gloomy shed. ‘It’s miserable out here.’
Patrick laughs. ‘To a fox, this is a luxury hotel.’ He slaps the felt roof. ‘A shelter from the rain. And someone bringing him food. He’s the luckiest fox in the world.’
I swallow. I guess Patrick is right.
‘Come on little fellow,’ says Patrick, reaching into my jacket.
The fox wakes and sniffs Patrick’s hands.
Patrick lifts the fox out. He sets him down inside the shed.
Dan Dan sniffs around and scampers over the concrete. He doesn’t seem unhappy at all. Not one little bit. But …
‘Can’t I bring him into the castle? Just for tonight?’
‘You most certainly cannot.’
‘Patrick—’
‘No arguments Seraphina. The fox stays out here.’
I look down at Dan Dan. �
�But it’s so grey out here.’
‘You can come out and see him whenever you like,’ says Patrick, closing the door and sliding across the lock.
Dan Dan begins to whimper and jump up at the chicken wire.
‘He doesn’t like it,’ I say.
‘Of course he doesn’t like it,’ says Patrick. ‘He’s a wild animal and he wants to be free.’
I bite my lip. Maybe Patrick’s right. But I can’t bear the thought of letting him die out in the wilderness. ‘He’ll feel better once he’s got some straw, won’t he?’ I say, more to reassure myself than anything else. ‘And some food.’
‘Probably,’ says Patrick.
‘Okay.’ I nod, trying to ignore the whimpering. ‘Can we find Gregory?’
‘You stay here with the little fellow. I’ll go get Gregory.’
36
Gregory comes with puppy food and dry straw.
I don’t like Dan Dan being in the cold kennel. But after the food, he falls asleep on his straw bed.
‘Come on, Seraphina,’ says Patrick. ‘Let the little mongrel sleep. You need to eat something.’
‘Okay.’
I creep out of the kennel, hating to leave. But I tell myself it’s better than him being in the woods, starving to death.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ I say, when Patrick and I reach the castle door. ‘And I don’t care. I’ll do a good job of looking after that cub.’
‘We’ll see,’ says Patrick. He opens the castle door. ‘Ladies first.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, sliding past him. The castle is cold as always, but it’s still warmer and less windy than outside.
I feel the warmth of Patrick’s body behind me.
‘Are you angry?’ I ask. ‘About the fox?’
‘No I’m not angry.’ Patrick puts his hand to the door. ‘Just don’t let him into the castle.’
‘I already told you that I wouldn’t.’ I hear the wind howl through the crack in the door.
I think of Dan Dan on his bed of straw and give a little shiver. ‘I hate the thought of him all alone.’
‘Seraphina—’
‘I know, I know. He’s a wild animal. I get it.’
‘Come and have some lunch,’ says Patrick. ‘You need to eat.’
I look down at my muddy fingernails. ‘I was hoping to shower before I ate.’
