Page 81 of Wild About You

‘If he loves Snoopy, he’ll really love Hugo,’ said Jamie. ‘I can offer a complimentary visit to the beagle sanctuary for sponsors who commit for eighteen months.’

‘She actually wrote that down,’ I said to him after she’d gone.

‘You do beavers, I’ll do beagles,’ he said, and we grinned at each other.

‘Am I imagining this,’ he said, ‘or are these meetings going really well?’

‘They are,’ I said. ‘I certainly think we’ve got a chance to get some sponsorship for our pine marten project, or some of the smaller regeneration plans. In the end you can never tell until they sign on the dotted line, but it feels positive.’

He was nodding, his gaze catching mine.

‘I like this,’ he said quietly, then closed his eyes with a little shake of his head, which was the cue for me to stare at the table and slightly move my chair away.

‘Who’s next?’ I said brightly.

He consulted the list. ‘A seedbomb provider.’

I relaxed. ‘Brilliant. At least they’ll be on our side.’

‘Am I doing enough?’ he said.

‘I’d be disappointed if you were chatty,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing quite like a strong, silent earl glowering in the corner of the room to put pompous corporate guys off their stride. That “my friend Mike” guy would have mentioned wolves in the first sentence if you hadn’t been here.’

I saw a glint in his eye but luckily, before he had the chance to reply, the door opened and admitted representatives of the biggest seedbomb company in the United Kingdom.

We arrived back at the apartment to the smell of burning toast. Richard was making Fi her favourite comfort food:cindery toast with butter and jam. ‘She’s lying down,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, she’s fine. I guess she wasn’t prepared to feel rough two months out, after having such an easy ride for the last seven. I’ll stay the night, if that’s okay?’

‘Of course,’ said Jamie. ‘And she’s been a star. She hasn’t stopped sending me emails all day.’

Richard grinned. ‘I think she’s most annoyed that she won’t get to go dancing with Anna.’ He disappeared off into Fi’s room bearing his toasty treasure.

Jamie’s phone chimed and he looked at it. ‘Hugo’s fine, it seems,’ he said. ‘Apparently his beagle digestion has coped with the boot. We could open the champagne?’

We stood and looked at each other. ‘Although that’s probably not a good idea,’ he said. Neither of us looked away.

There was a knock at the door. Irritation flickered over Jamie’s face, then he looked at his watch and swore under his breath. ‘I forgot. Press.’

‘Bloody hell.’ I levered my feet back into my high heels as he went to the door.

The journalist was a petite, classically styled redhead with highly labelled jewellery, clothes and handbag that she wore with slightly dishevelled carelessness. She was authentically Sloaney and introduced herself perkily as ‘Juliet, fromCountry Housemagazine.’ She was accompanied by Jack, a faintly scruffy photographer who looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else than here. They seemed a tight enough pair though, with relaxed, sibling-like body language, and they brought a faint miasma of cigarette smoke with them.

‘Anna,’ I said, shaking their hands. ‘I was just about to put the kettle on. What would you like?’

‘Coffee please,’ said Juliet. ‘Mine’s black. Jack likes milk and two sugars.’

The photographer grinned. ‘Any posh biscuits?’

Juliet elbowed him in the ribs.

‘We’re all out, I’m afraid,’ I said. It was true; Fi had been going through them like a forest fire through dry tinder. ‘I’ll be back with the drinks in a minute.’

Jamie gave me a grateful look as I passed him. As I put the kettle on, I could hear Juliet chatting to him. Jamie was bringing up the rewilding plan, talking about the beavers, the work we were doing to diversify the woodland, and the plans he had for young people from disadvantaged backgrounds to get work experience in land management. We had talked about this plan a lot in the last day; I heard the pride in his voice as he described it, without a hint of uncertainty or trademark grumpiness. He sounded… hopeful.

‘Wonderful, wonderful,’ Juliet was saying. ‘But also, I wanted to do a kind ofpersonalviewpoint, too. What does Stonemoremeanto you – how do youfeelabout it?’

Silence fell. I left the kettle boiling and stepped into the living room. I could see Jamie’s face. He was temporarily frozen, lost for words. His smile had faded to nothing. I remembered his words about boarding school: he’d been trained not to express his feelings, not to show them.Vulnerability equalled death.

‘I think the rewilding is wonderful,’ he said, catching onthe word she’d been using. ‘I think it can only be a good thing.’

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