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