by Fiona Walker
Chapter 61
Dougie had borrowed Gut’s scramble bike to rattle to Lake Farm – taking his car would mean a huge diversion and going on foot was just as time-consuming. The tinny rattle shrieked at top velocity as he snaked through the parkland and on to the causeway. One of the few structures in the Eardisford grounds that hadn’t been touched in Seth’s lavish restoration, the narrow wooden-planked promenade that stretched across the lake remained a decaying, slime-caked death trap of potholes and crumbling stone spine that he skidded across far too fast, almost pitching into the lake.
When he slithered into the farmyard behind the house, the dogs surged out to greet him and Kat followed, still in her pyjamas. She had both eyebrows raised now, and was frantically wiping something off her upper lip. She looked furious and utterly beautiful. ‘When you said you’d come back later, I thought you meant much later.’
‘Igor’s galloping around here with a cross-bow.’ He ignored Dair’s advice to keep her in the dark, knowing Kat needed to protect her livestock. ‘He’s after a stag.’
She gasped, eyes wide with horror. ‘We must stop him. That’s totally barbaric.’
Momentarily lost in those eyes – why had he never noticed the little silver flecks in the green? – Dougie took a split-second to catch up. ‘He’ll only hit trees – and us, if we get in the way. Dair think he’s after the big chap from Herne Covert, but there’s not a chance of him finding him. The Lord Lucan of stags, that one.’
Hearing a thunder of approaching hoofs, they turned towards the open yard gateway. At the same time, Dawn leaned out of an upstairs window wearing a face-pack and a towel on her head, her high vantage-point meaning she was able to see beyond the farm buildings to the approaching stampede. ‘Ambush!’
The yard was filled with a clatter of hoofs as a stag led a charge of three horses, two alpacas, a llama, three goats and several sheep, closely pursued by four riders whooping with war-like shrieks, trailed by two fat Shetlands who ground to a grateful halt as soon as they saw the open feed-room door and headed inside.
‘That’s half my livestock!’ Kat ran to her quad bike and fired the ignition, then opened the throttle so fast, it stalled.
‘And Harvey!’ Dougie retrieved the scramble bike and kick-started it, accelerating into the dust-cloud left by the stampede.
Dawn ran outside breathlessly as Kat frantically tried to get the quad started again. ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Get the Shetlands out.’ Kat started the engine again with a whoop.
‘To do what?’ Dawn shouted over it. ‘Roman riding?’
‘No. Just stop them stuffing themselves.’ She sped off.
Having run in a big arc along the parkland’s open rides and around the beech woods, Seth found himself at the far side of the lake. His legs were really pumped now, lactic acid building, the punishment of uneven terrain and sharp cambers making him truly feel the burn. Music playing in his ears, he ran along the lime avenue towards the lake, admiring its golden surface in the early-morning sun with the huge Jacobean house perched beyond it where a shower and massage were waiting. The bodyguard had fallen far behind, totally outpaced by his marathon-running boss. Again, Seth felt a pang for Dollar’s company. She would probably start competing with him on a run about now, putting in a burst of speed, goading him to stay with her.
Imagining her racing ahead of him, he ran on to the causeway, not realizing how dilapidated it was until he was part of the way across and the uneven footing forced him to steady himself and look down. That was when he saw the crumbling stonework and the broken wooden boards, increasingly sparse underfoot. Making a mental note to instruct his team to renovate it, he slowed to a careful walk, puffing hard. As he did so, he heard crashing through the beeches that ran alongside the lake.
Seth watched transfixed as a huge stag leaped out of the woods skirting the far bank, antlers tipped back, its eyes bright with alarm. Swerving left in a spray of earth divots, it headed straight towards him along the rickety causeway. As soon as it saw him, it leaped neatly off the open side, landing with a great splash in the lake, and began swimming to the far bank.
More crashing was coming from the direction of the woods now, along with hollering voices. Three more terrified animals burst from the undergrowth, swerving left in the stag’s wake, and at first Seth thought they were more red deer. Then he took a nervous step back as he was joined on the bridge by a llama and two alpacas, all boggle-eyed with fear and lolloping towards him at such speed that the metal struts supporting the planked walkway were shaking. When Seth turned to run back the way he had come, there was an ominous groan beneath his feet. He had just enough time to look down and register that he could see quite a lot of black, weed-filled water when the rusted metal truss and rotten planks gave way and he dropped into the lake’s darkest, reediest depths.
The llama and alpacas cannoned to a halt to avoid falling through the hole too, sliding to a stop in a gaggle and snorting fearfully, heads shooting up and twirling like periscopes, well aware that danger was right behind.
A mountain of a horse was crashing out of the woods now, its rider bellowing in Russian as he lifted his cross-bow to his shoulder, still galloping flat out, and took aim at the biggest of the long-necked hairy camelids trapped on the gap-toothed bridge. ‘I have the stag cornered!’ he yelled in Russian. Then he peered closer and swore under his breath as he realized it had no antlers. Instead of being a great trophy for his wall, it was a very peeved llama.
Igor reined to such a sharp halt, Worcester almost sat down.
Standing up in his stirrups to survey the terrain around him, Igor spotted his target in the water twenty yards from the bank, its antlers like magnificent, skeletal sails on a well-battled flagship. Shooting an animal in water was never ideal, but he would let his assistants worry about recovering the trophy. He had a clear shot. He let out a victorious bellow.
‘No!’ Kat screamed, as she hurtled on the quad bike along the bank of the lake, her eyes swinging wildly from the swimming stag to Igor taking aim on the far bank. There was no way to get close to the Russian without crossing the causeway or swimming the lake. Dougie was far ahead of her on the scramble bike and already accelerating towards the frail old walkway. Abandoning the quad bike, she knew what she had to do. Shouting to get the Russian’s attention, she sprinted towards the lake, diving in over the rushes.
In the blackest water beneath the bridge, Seth was flailing madly, unable to swim to safety. Gripped by searing cramp, held down by his running weights, his cries for help inaudible over the shouts and engines, he let out a sob of relief as he saw someone dive in, certain rescue was coming. It turned into a wail of anguish as he saw that she was swimming away from him.
Above Seth’s head, an increasingly infuriated llama was stumbling and crashing around on the broken planks, his panic-stricken alpaca friends herding around him, braying in terror.
Roaring along the bank towards the walkway on the scramble bike, unaware that Kat was in the water behind him, Dougie eyed the crumbling ornate stone supports that sloped up from the lakeside to the elderly structure like flying buttresses. They made a perfect motorcycle ramp. He accelerated towards one, engine screaming.
Still a strong, fast swimmer, despite the long break from competition, Kat was between Igor’s bow and the stag in just a few strokes.
‘Bliad’! Wed’ma! Ty troop! Cuchka derganaya! Unbju!’ Igor yelled, as the redhead blocked his shot. The stag was moving out of easy range.
He pointed the cross-bow at her threateningly. ‘Get out of the way, rusalka!’
‘No!’ She gave him the finger – which was probably ill-advised, given her situation – and trod water.
As she did so, she heard a familiar bellow coming from the spinney beside the farmhouse and groaned in horror. ‘Please don’t do it, darling. Just this once, stay away from the water.’
But she knew it was hopeless as Usha came shambling companionably out of the bulrushes.
Eyes lighting at the sight of a pair of horns as wide as a sea eagle’s wingspan, the Russian aimed at the water buffalo.
Realizing he was about to take a pot shot at Eardisford’s oldest and most eccentric bovine resident, Kat plunged towards Usha instead.
With a victorious engine roar, Dougie’s bike landed on the far end of the rickety causeway in true stuntman style, back wheel spinning as he swerved it to face Igor on the opposite bank of the lake. That was when he saw that the causeway was already quite crowded. Feeling it tilt and shake, he also suspected it was about to collapse.
Masked from view beneath it, Seth was coming up for the fifth or sixth time. The cramp in his legs had solidified to splints of pure pain that refused to move, the weights on his ankles felt like concrete and were now entangled with the weeds that kept dragging him under. He tried to shout again, but there was so much noise nobody could hear him.
Glaring along the causeway at Igor – who was swinging his cross-bow sight between Usha, Kat and the stag, spoilt for choice – Dougie revved the engine, ready to hurtle across to him and pull him from his horse. ‘Out of the way!’ he shouted at the two alpacas and the llama. Instead of doing as they were told, the alpacas finally jumped over a huge gap that had appeared in the planked walkway and came cantering towards him, eyes popping. Behind them, the big llama let out a furious spit of disapproval. Still at the far end of the long bridge, he hung back, weighing up his options. More aggressive than his companions, less keen on swimming than the stag, averse to motorbikes and not trusting the rickety, swaying structure he was standing on, the llama spun round and sprang towards the Russian’s big horse, taking Worcester completely by surprise.
The llama was in a very bad mood now. Despite being less than a quarter of the horse’s great size, he threw back his head, puffed up his chest and reared against Worcester’s side, which was blocking his way.
‘Stop it, you fucking rug on legs!’ Igor’s bolt swung back towards the llama again.
Seth’s bodyguard-cum-running-companion had finally panted around the edge of the beech wood. Taking in the scene, he fumbled for his radio mic to call for back-up. As he did so, two grey horses, a patchwork one with blue eyes, and several goats burst out of the woods immediately behind him, jinking past him and out into open parkland.
‘We have a situation,’ he told his team nervously. Like most trained fighters, armed men held no fear for him, but large animals were another matter.
With an almighty scream of its engine, Dougie’s bike was still waiting to power its way along the planked platform, but the traffic was a nightmare. The alpacas were blocking his way as they loped towards him and then stopped, heads shooting up. Exploding with impatience, Dougie knew he had to let them get across. He cut the engine and they shuffled cautiously towards him while he waited, feeling like an elderly motorist letting pony riders hack past.
Beneath the shadow of the bridge, Seth was weakening. He’d swallowed so much water he could barely breathe when he gulped and gasped to the surface each time, struggling to stay there for more than a split-second before the pains in his legs corkscrewed him round and down, the weeds and weights holding him there. The muffled silence under water was far outlasting the brief, bewildering cacophony above it. This was, he realized with horror, probably the last sound he would ever hear. He would never see his parents again, his sister and nieces, aunties and uncles, his friends and Dollar. He would never be able to tell Dollar just how much he loved her. He had to live. As he made one final desperate bid to surface, he felt something grab his hair. He reached up a hand to embrace his rescuer, only to find his fingers full of feathers.
Across the lake, Kat was treading water between Usha and the stag, still marking Igor’s cross-bow, which was swinging around wildly now he was under llama attack. Her eye was caught by one of the Canada geese flapping and pecking furiously beneath the bridge. A part of it had collapsed, she saw, and broken planks bobbed on the surface. Then she did a double take. A hand was poking from the water. She let out a horrified gasp and started swimming towards it.
As the alpacas finally sprang past Dougie, he kick-started the scramble bike again and let off the clutch. The bike roared into action towards Igor, who was trying to aim his cross-bow at the llama chest-butting his legs. Edging the bike’s wheels on to the narrow stone kerb at the causeway’s edge to bypass the gaping hole in the planking, Dougie glanced down and saw a shot of red hair in the churning black water below. As soon as he reached a more solid footing, he slid to a halt and threw down the bike, running back to see Kat in the water below, swimming in frantic circles as she looked down into the black water.
‘Someone’s trapped down there,’ she cried.
‘Leave it to me.’ Diving in, Dougie almost landed on top of her.
‘I can handle this!’ She disappeared beneath the surface.
He dived down too.
Usha was bellowing mournfully in her bulrushes. Now unguarded, the stag had almost reached the far bank and Igor was once again trying to get a clear shot, ignoring the body-slamming llama, which Worcester was stoically enduring beneath him.
‘Ty troop!’ he muttered, as the llama spat on his boot.
Just as he lined up his cross-bow, there was a commotion behind him as a lynch mob of balaclava-wearing saboteurs flew out of the woods.
Before Igor could take in what was happening, the masked men had pulled him from the saddle, swiftly disarming him before disappearing back into the trees.
Apoplectic, Igor shouted for his men, realizing for the first time that they were nowhere in sight. He’d kill them for letting him down like this.
‘Do something!’ he yelled in Russian at Seth’s bodyguard, who was trying to fend off several goats tugging greedily at his baggy jogging bottoms.
In the woods, Dair greeted his keepers. Meat and Two Veg gave triumphant salutes as they ripped off their headwear, the celebration shared somewhat starchily with the real animal activists whose headwear they had commandeered, and who had been left holding the horses rather than sharing the action.
Russ, who had wanted to be the hero of the hour, was most put out that the estate manager had taken over his operation to put a stop to the shooting party, but he couldn’t deny the positive result. As soon as Dair had realized the Russian was conducting his own private stag hunt, he had proved refreshingly militant, confiscating the activists’ disguises and ordering his own men to take action.
‘It is for the greater good,’ he insisted wisely, hurrying through a thicket to check on Igor’s sidekicks, who were now being held out of sight at gunpoint by Dollar. Telling Seth’s ferocious PA that he believed Igor’s men were Russian Mafia and posed a serious threat to her boss’s life had perhaps been a mean trick, Dair reflected, but it had paid dividends. She was magnificently fierce – he’d have had no hesitation in hiring her as a gamekeeper. The estate was not a playground for redneck hunting, any more than it would ever host television costume dramas, corporate bonding weekends or celebrity weddings. He was upholding Constance’s honour.
The lake beneath the bridge was a torrent of rip tides and ripples now. Kat and Dougie burst up through the surface again, gasping for air. They had been down twice, fingers tangling and arms entwined in the least romantic way possible as they struggled to pull Seth to the surface, battling against the weight of the weeds that had twisted like a shroud around his legs. They knew they had just one more chance. Seth was breathing only water now, no longer clawing at them in his panic.
Kat looked across at Dougie as they gulped air to go back down, his dark lashes star-fished around the blue eyes, his face white. He looked back at her and his expression made her heart inflate like a life-vest in her chest, dragging in oxygen and hope.
‘I love you,’ he said, diving back down.
Kat’s mouth opened in shock. Following him down, she realized too late that she hadn’t taken a breath.
Under the water, sound muffled, she saw Seth through th
e gloom and kicked hard to the lake floor, grasping the reed-choked weight around his legs and gripping with all her might, while Dougie wrapped his arms around Seth’s chest and pulled upwards. With an almighty whoosh of water, his feet were released from trainers and weight rings and Dougie could carry him up.
Kat was now so desperately short of oxygen and had swallowed so much water that she feared she’d pass out, but as she broke the surface she managed to gulp enough air to control the blurred dizziness and used the reflection of the causeway to swim in a straight line until she found solid ground beneath her feet. Lungs raw and legs weak, she followed Dougie as he hauled a worryingly lifeless-looking Seth on to the bank and put him into the recovery position.
‘What do we do next? Mouth-to-mouth or the chest-punching thing or both?’ he asked urgently, as Kat scrambled up the bank beside him.
‘I’ll do it.’ As she stepped forward to apply CPR, she was knocked sideways by a lithe, tearful figure body-slamming past them both to crouch by Seth’s head, cupping his face.
