Page 50 of We Three Kings

‘On your own?’

‘I’ve called Miles, he’s going to meet me there.’

I stand there, a bit dumbfounded. This is certainly not what I’m used to at all. Usually in Shepherd’s Bush you get woken early by a bin man. I look at him reaching for things around his room.

‘So just the two of you? Taking on men in horses and dogs and stuff. I’m sorry…I don’t know how hunts work. Will they have guns? You could get hurt?’ I say, concerned.

‘No. There are no guns. I’ll likely stand there and shout obscenities at him.’

I stand there watching as he puts his hand to the door.

‘Well, maybe I can help you shout too?’ I ask him, not really sure if I should be saying that. But this seems like it needs more bodies in the way to assist.

He turns to look at me, curious for a moment. ‘Are you wearing a onesie?’

I open up my duvet. I am. It has reindeer antlers, when I put the hood up. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, that might help. Come on then.’

I hadn’t really envisaged what these days away with my work colleagues would entail. I figured that I’d have my fair share of turkey and a few glasses of mulled wine, meet a few eccentric family members. Never did I think that I would be standing in my reindeer onesie, a pair of wellies and a black Barbour coat in the middle of some woodland. This is how horror films start. I’m going to be taken by the Blair Witch in a minute. Naturally, I like animals, I don’t even mind co-existing with them, but I should have maybe got a coffee inside me first before trying to defend them from hunters. I should possibly also be wearing a bra.

‘Here…gloves…’ Miles says, handing some to me. Miles picked us up a while ago in a very charming, aged Land Rover and, like some guerrilla-style activists, Jasper and I jumped in and rode across fields and dirt paths. I don’t know if there’s a plan – Jasper spent most of the short trip calling his brother many, many names – but if there is one, I might put my hand up now and say I don’t mind being the cool tech person who stays in the vehicle.

‘Who’s leading?’ Jasper asks Miles.

‘This was Albert’s bidding. He borrowed the hounds from a few locals and Cressida is using it as an opportunity to impress her city mates. My dad tried to stop them,’ he explains. They both look out onto the fields with binoculars. I pretend to look in the same direction.

‘I don’t get it. I thought hunting was illegal,’ I whisper.

‘Fox hunting is but not trail hunting. They’ll try and tell you that they’ve laid a trail of fox piss around and are having a lovely day out riding but it’s hugely likely they’re not. My dad would have seen people laying out trails for a start,’ Miles explains.

‘So they’re going after foxes?’ I ask.

Jasper nods. ‘They’ll say it’s culture, tradition, they’ll say thefoxes are vermin but at the end of the day, it’s cruel, it’s unnecessary.’ I smile to at least know that Jasper doesn’t engage with any of it. ‘So we have to put them off…’

He goes inside his jacket and pulls out a long gold horn and blows it into the air. I put my hands over my ears. It’s like a magic call to arms, suddenly a few dogs scramble out of the undergrowth and come towards us, Miles greeting them with treats.

‘We can divert the dogs this way and here…’ Miles tells me handing me a spray bottle. We can Febreze them? ‘This has citronella in it which can throw them off the scent of any foxes? Just spray it about?’

I am no longer tech girl, I am spray-gun girl. Gotcha. I walk around the brambles and leaves, spraying carefully. I may be walking in mud, it might be poo but who knows. I’m here for the foxes. Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Miles and Jasper, watching their interactions, trying to get an ear in at what’s been happening.

‘I am sorry they were rude to your dad, it’s uncalled for. It really is. I’ll get my dad to say something,’ Jasper tells him.

‘Like they would listen. He’s just spent a lot of time tracking the foxes, trapping and relocating them when the woods get too overpopulated.’

‘I know, I know,’ Jasper says sadly.

Jasper is still in his pyjama bottoms and hoodie while Miles managed to throw on some jeans, his heavy outdoor coat and a flat cap from before. Miles cracks a whip into the ground. I don’t quite know why but if we’re all having a special weapon then I hope I don’t get lumbered with something shit like a spear.

Miles looks back at me and senses my curiosity. ‘It’s like a stop command for the dogs,’ he explains. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Just spraying…’ I say, ‘As per my orders. Jasper told me there’d be more opportunity to shout at people though,’ I joke.

‘Sorry. That may come later.’

Jasper looks over at me and trundles over. ‘You’re doing an excellent job, by the way. You’re a very proficient sprayer.’

I smile at him, my toes numb in my Wellington boots. ‘I want a huge, fuck-off breakfast after this, yeah?’

---