Chapter 19
They weren’t exactly shouting ‘tally ho’, but the effect was the same. The hunting horn droned reverberations on Lisa’s eardrums, raucous and shrill. The Lodsham in full cry.
‘It’s the hunt, Alec,’ Lisa called. To her surprise Alec’s enthusiasm for gardening had grown. The manual work, he maintained, refreshed a mind cudgelled with too many figures. ‘Help me get the children in.’
‘In?’ He straightened up and looked at Lisa resentfully. ‘It’s only a drag hunt; no one’s going to kill anything. Why shouldn’t they watch the fun?’
‘I don’t want them growing up with the idea that hunting is the way to spend their leisure.’
Alec shifted the hoe he was manoeuvring from his right hand to his left, and supported his weight on that. In spite of the work involved he insisted on a herbaceous border to divide the lawn from the orchard. ‘It’s country life, pet. And a way to keep the horses fit, as well as the riders. And to keep the bloodhounds going.’
‘I’m more concerned about the effect it has on human beings than the pros and cons of hunting,’ Lisa said loftily. ‘After all, I do paint hunting scenes.’
Lisa picked James up and held him against herself. He was the one she felt most protective towards. He was a sweet-natured gentle child she loved to be with. Lisa could no longer safely carry two triplets, so she held her right hand out for Jeffrey. He trotted obediently towards her.
‘If you could bring Jansy in for me,’ she said, turning towards the side door. ‘Come along, Seb, we’re going to play indoors.’
‘Seb can come down the drive with me. We’ll watch them riding past. Frank’s bound to be with them.’
Lisa looked over her shoulder, clamping her teeth together to keep calm. ‘If you don’t mind, darling, I’d really rather not.’
‘I’ll put Seb across my shoulders. He’ll be quite safe.’
‘I can’t stop you. Just remember what Meg said last time: those hounds are really fierce. I’m nervous about those animals.’
Alec laughed the friendly indulgent laugh which infuriated Lisa. ‘Honestly, darling, they’re trained to follow the scent. Human beings are definitely not quarry.’
The sound of the horn was getting closer, its mournful monotone echoing round the moor.
‘Alec, I’m going in now. They’re really near. You weren’t here last time. Those brutish hounds hurl themselves across our wall and swarm all over the paddock. They bay louder than any pack I’ve ever heard; they trample everything in their path. They’re terrifying.’ She darted her face towards Alec nervously, then opened the side door and placed the two toddlers on the hall flagstones. ‘Hurry up, Seb.’ Her voice, no longer diffident, brought the child running. ‘I’ll shut the door. You look after Jiminy and Jeffers while I fetch Jansy.’
Lisa closed the old door with a bang and turned around. Alec leaned his hoe slowly against the stone pillar by the rockery and watched Lisa walk up to Janus.
‘Gee-gees.’ The child planted firm feet astride and looked at her defiantly. Lisa, reluctant to cross swords with the headstrong boy, and finding him heavier than the others to pick up, now heard the insistent baying of the hounds getting louder, more threatening.
Janus had become podgy again - a sort of bloated swollen look Lisa found distinctly worrying. She eyed him nervously. He was much larger than the other two and definitely plump. Memories began to stir. She pushed them aside and bent down to Janus, smiling at him, determined to be patient with his stubborn behaviour. ‘That’s right, darling,’ she agreed, squatting in front of him, holding out her arms. ‘Lots of gee-gees, and lots of big bow-wows. We have to get away from them. They’ll knock us over.’
The urgency in her voice alerted the child to danger. He turned full blue eyes on her, lifted his arms and went towards her so that she could hoist him up. The hounds bayed closer and the strength she needed surged through Lisa. Janus clasped her neck tight as she sprinted for the door.
The first bloodhound was already crashing over the rhyne and into their orchard. Lisa had seen the Master, vivid red coat glowing in morning sun, hacking his mount through Mark Ditcheat’s field below the rhyne which separated the Wildmores’ garden from his acreage.
‘Hey! Get out of here!’
Lisa stood by the crack of door, extricating herself from Janus. ‘Alec, please! Don’t mess about. They’re really vicious. Get out of their way!’ she called, suddenly aware that the whole pack was charging towards her husband. ‘Come on!’
The leading hound had turned into a dozen almost instantly, with reserves charging up. Their clamorous baying, their extraordinary speed, produced some sort of primitive response in Alec. He began to trot, then run towards the door. He crashed in and shut it just in time against the growling din of dogs leaping against it.
‘See what I mean?’
‘I’ll have a word with Frank about that. It’s ridiculous!’
‘Frank? I thought there was a Master of Hounds in charge?’
‘Whatever, Lisa,’ Alec said crossly, clearly annoyed at this undignified retreat from his own garden.
‘I wish you would get on to someone. Diana’s forever saying how marvellous that pack is. I can’t think why. I’m surprised no one’s done anything so far. I know most people follow in their cars, but there are the odd cyclists.’
‘Presumably they know they’re not to attack people on the road,’ Alec said, frowning.
‘You mean, because we aren’t part of a crowd they think of us as prey?’
‘Shouldn’t do anything of the sort, of course. They’re supposed to go after the scent...’ Alec was clearly more than annoyed. He was obviously shocked, even alarmed. ‘Let’s go and see what they’re up to,’ he said, leading the way into the living room. ‘We should be safe enough looking out through the bay window.’
They stood, the six of them, watching the huntsmen ride across the moor spread below their eyrie. Janus stood close beside the glass, chubby fingers spread out against it, watching intently.
A straggle of indifferent horses roamed in and out of gates opened up to the road. This wasn’t really hunt country. The divisions between the fields, consisting of rhynes haphazardly bordered by thick hedges of hawthorn interspersing sloe and willow, were laced with fearsome brambles. They made cross country hunting far too difficult. The drag hunt followers straggled along the lanes in convoys of Landrovers, Volvo estates and Ford Fiestas augmented with old men on bicycles and young men in Volkswagen Golfs which had seen better days.
‘View Halloo!’ resounded into the Wildmores’ living room. They couldn’t mistake Frank Graftley’s full, reverberating shout. He appeared, his hunting pink flashing across their sight, galloping Light Amber across the field at full pelt. The hounds pursued him at a furious pace, followed by two more huntsmen in pink. The Master of Hounds drew his hunter up and turned imperiously.
‘Get ’em in!’ he yelled to the whipper-in who was having trouble controlling the questing cry. Don Chivers, Lisa was suddenly aware, recognising his spare body, the shock of white hair peeking through under the hardtop, the way he flailed skinny arms. She was surprised to see him there; supporting the hunt wasn’t what she thought of as his scene.
‘It’s primitive,’ Lisa said, turning to Alec. ‘Unbelievably primitive. I’m glad they’re far enough away so we can’t actually see them in full cry. Is Frank really keen on all that?’
‘Keener than ever. His boys, too, of course. See them?’ Alec, field glasses in his hand, pointed at Michael and Alan Graftley on ponies.
‘I didn’t realise they’d allow them on the field.’
‘Draghunting, not foxhunting, Lisa. There’s no lower age limit, as long as they’re capable of handling a sharp gallop and some cross-country jumping.’
‘Don’s there as well. Looks like he’s one of the whippers-in, Alec …’
‘You mean Frank’s stockman? So he is. That’s rum; Frank was saying only the other day that old Don didn’t really “hold with” hunting, even though there’s no quarry animals involved nowadays. Said it was dangerous for the runner; those bloodhounds can get over excited.’
‘He seems to be helping the huntsman.’ She turned to Alec excitedly. ‘I remember now, he’s the man we met at the party. Gudgeon, I think his name was. He’s the Master of Hounds. That’s what Diana said.’
‘Sir Wilford, d’you mean?’
‘That’s right. Sees a lot of Frank, I gather from Meg. Do you do business with him, then? Didn’t much take to him, myself.’
‘He’s on the Flaxton board.’ Alec pushed his hair off his forehead. ‘I suppose he and Frank come across each other at the meets. I had lunch with him the other day. He offered me one of his new hunters, actually.’
‘Gudgeon, d’you mean? Or Frank?’
Alec positively cackled. ‘Frank wouldn’t give away a horsefly. No, Sir Wilford. I gather he thinks it would be politic for me to ride.’
‘Thought you said you weren’t too keen.’
‘I’m not. Well, I never learnt. That’s why I thought we might get Seb to take some lessons. On a pony, of course,’ he said quickly. ‘Thought I might join him, make sure he’s all right.’
‘Would you like that, Sebbie?’
The little boy’s eyes rounded excitement. ‘Ride ponies with Daddy,’ he said. ‘And Mummy,’ he added, looking uncertainly at Lisa.
‘Daddy and Uncle Frank, I think.’
‘And Mikey and Alan.’
As they watched, the hunting scene below them suddenly seemed to change. The normal aimless sniffing of hounds following scent turned to tense excitement, then to something nearer panic. Two horses seemed to be being spurred towards the pack at the same time. They could see Frank Graftley’s mare, nearby, reared on her hind legs. The horn screamed loud staccato. Lisa realised Frank was desperately trying to get at a crowd of hounds attacking what looked like a human form lying prone.
‘What the hell’s going on? Frank’s going to smash into the chap who...’
Lisa didn’t take in the rest of what Alec was saying. A prick of panic tightened her chest as she watched, mesmerised. ‘The hounds are attacking someone who’s down,’ she gasped. ‘What on earth’s happening? Why doesn’t he move out of the way?’ Was that, could that really be, Don Chivers on the ground?
‘The hounds are swarming all over him,’ Alec agreed, his voice low. ‘Wonder who it is?’
‘Something’s gone terribly wrong,’ Lisa found herself whispering, a conviction of a sinister turn of events making her shudder. ‘I’m going to ring the ambulance.’ And she was on the phone, tapping 999, before Alec had taken in just what was taking place before his eyes.
As she looked up, waiting for the connection, Lisa saw Frank galloping towards them, kicking gleaming riding boots into Light Amber. He avoided the crowd by the gate by jumping the mare over the rhyne beside the road, then cantered urgently towards their drive. ‘There’s Frank.’
‘Must be riding in to ask us to get help.’
‘We’d better get some blankets ready.’
‘Let’s settle the children in the playroom,’ Alec said quietly, gathering Janus and Jeffrey up.
Lisa just had enough presence of mind to install Janus in the playpen, allowing James and Jeffrey outside it. Janus had become very aggressive again. She didn’t want to leave him, unsupervised, with his triplet brothers.
‘You look after the triplets for me, Seb,’ she said. ‘You’re in charge. There’s been an accident; we’ve got to help Uncle Frank. Be a really big boy now. Make sure Janus stays in the playpen.’
‘I know how to do it, Mummy,’ he said. He’d always been remarkably good with Janus.
‘Did yer see ’un? See what happened to Don?’ Frank reined Light Amber up sharply and dismounted.
‘Don?’ Lisa felt a chill shuddering going through her as Frank confirmed what she already suspected - knew.
‘He be thrown; they horses stomped into he.’ Frank looked almost wild, blank eyes roaming and aimless. ‘Best ring th’ ambulance, quick!’
‘Already on its way,’ Alec said calmly.
‘Thank God for that. Got any blankets?’
‘We got some out for you. We couldn’t really tell what was going on...’
‘Don Chivers were whipping in. They hounds turned on he, tore at his boots and him fell off. Then two horses trampled on top of he,’ Frank almost sobbed. ‘Him didn’t get up.’ He leaned against the stone pillar, removing his hardtop, mopping the sweat streaming down. ‘Him be done for.’
‘Don was thrown? You mean your stockman?’ Alec asked, frowning, surprised.
‘Arr, that were old Don.’ Frank’s voice, usually so strident and sure, sounded tremulous.
Lisa looked at him sharply. Had she misjudged him? He’d always seemed so cold, but now there was no mistaking strong emotion.
‘I’ll get you something to sit on,’ Alec said, watching in alarm as Frank heaved for breath. ‘I always thought you said Don didn’t join in the hunting.’
‘The gaffer specially asked for us to bring he,’ Frank said, his voice throbbing. ‘Got to get back to he.’ Frank leaned against the pillar, breathing hard. ‘Danged if us knows what be going on. One minute Don were whipping in, the next Wilford Gudgeon’s gelding were piled on top of he. Crushed the life out on he. Him be a goner.’ The swollen red face had drained to grey. ‘In all me years hunting I never did see nothing like that. Them hounds turned on he!’
Lisa’s thoughts raced through her mind. Wilford Gudgeon had wanted Don to do the whipping in, and it was Gudgeon’s bloodhounds which had turned on Don, torn him to death. Had what happened really been an accident - or had someone seized their chance, stamped Don out of the way?
‘What’s wrong with those hounds?’ Lisa almost shrieked at Frank. ‘They looked completely out of control.’
‘Turned right on he, them knows him baint a quarry!’ Frank’s shoulders shook. ‘Even they horses bolted with fright. That must be how it did happen.’
‘Supposed to be a good pack, isn’t it?’
‘Best there be. Us do reckon them scented blood, together with Don’s scent.’ Frank put his face in his hands. ‘Don don’t hold with any kinda hunting. ’Twas us as made he do the whipping in. Said as him were being soft. My God, yer should have seen - no, baint no good. It were just terrible.’
A memory tried to surface in Lisa’s mind. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. All she knew was that something was terribly wrong. Otherwise why would an old hand like Don be attacked by bloodhounds trained to follow, not kill him? And the hounds. Why would a pack of bloodhounds, trained from birth to follow a man, suddenly turn on him? Hunting had been practised in the countryside for centuries, though draghunting had replaced foxhunting after the 2004 Act. Could bloodhounds change character?
‘Which pack is it?’ Lisa turned to Frank.
‘Pakenham Moor,’ Frank said, something of his usual resentment coming through. ‘Wilford Gudgeon; him be the one on the bay. Gaffer at Priddy, living in t’old manor house. Him run they kennels. Him be a wonderful Master.’
Wilford Gudgeon again.
‘That’s what Diana said. D’you know him well?’
‘See he socially, that yer meaning?’ Frank looked rueful. ‘Not my patch,’ he said as he drained the whisky Alec had brought for him in a single draught. ‘But us do come across he. Point-to-points, and such.’
‘Sir Wilford runs those hounds?’ Alec demanded.
‘Us do know him feeds they the right stuff. Him do buy they meat from us.’
‘You supply feed for the hounds?’ Was that what had been nagging at the back of her mind? Frank was supplying meat from herds grazed on his fields. Could that affect the hounds - make them more aggressive, out of control?
‘Us do that,’ Frank said as he turned irritably towards Lisa. ‘What be wrong with that, then?’ The eyes, brimful of feeling a moment before, looked at her coldly. ‘Dare say yer don’t hold with hunting none. Yer reckon Don’s accident be acause of that.’
‘Actually, Frank, that isn’t true. I know hunting helps keep the countryside in trim, makes sure the horses are up to scratch.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘And hunting ensures the hounds continue to be bred. None of that bothers me. It’s only right.’ She looked at the man in front of her. She hadn’t realised his hair had greyed so much. ‘It’s the followers that really worry me, I suppose. Not the riders; that’s just sport. It’s the people in cars and on foot. They seem to want to be in at the kill, to see a single animal hunted by a whole pack of hounds. I think that’s absolutely disgusting.’
Frank didn’t answer her. He’d closed his eyes, leaned back his head. ‘Don; us can’t rightly believe it. Don Chivers. Worked for me dad afore me; and me granfer afore that.’
‘Perhaps he’ll pull through. He’s very fit.’
‘Pull through?’ He turned on Lisa. ‘Survive a horse tromping on he, then torn by they hounds? Not a bloody chance in hell. Him be done for, right enough.’
They heard the ambulance siren its way across the moor roads. Frank looked up, a little unsteadily, and seemed to shiver at the sound. He caught Lisa watching him, braced his shoulders back and walked to the stone wall to look over it. Alec and Lisa joined him, and Lisa could see his trembling hands grasping the jutting top stones. He wasn’t merely overcome, he was frightened, Lisa realised. Not so much emotionally involved as afraid. Perhaps he realised he might easily have been in Don’s place.
‘Amazing how far you can see. The ambulance is still a good mile off.’ Alec watched the large vehicle negotiate the hump bridge over Lodsham Drain.
‘All those followers upalong be going to slow her up. Leastways them got enough sense to park on they verges.’
‘I’ll go and make some tea,’ Lisa said. ‘You’ll need something sweet to help you over the shock.’
‘Later,’ Frank said slowly, remounting and holding out shaking hands for the blankets, his eyes shifting away. ‘Got to ride back to cover he. Though us did fall out betimes, Don be one in a million. Us won’t never see the likes of he again.’