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We carry on in silence for a few more miles, our phones lighting up constantly, none of us pick them up.
“Are we talking to any of them?” Bucky asks. I smile at the royal ‘we’.
James smirks at him. “I’m never talking to that fucking Isobel. She tried to kill me, that psycho. What the hell does Jude see in her?”
“Right with you on that one, Son. Do you think I went overboard?”
Bucky huffs out a laugh. “No way, Mum. You should have dealt with her a long time ago. Who knows what they might have done to us both if no one was aware of her tendencies. We could have been murdered at that chateau. Thrown from the ramparts, run down in a sleepy French country lane, no witnesses.” Bucky’s so dramatic. James and I are laughing as they both carry on with murder plots and outlandish deaths.
Tommy speaks from the driver's seat. “I’ve got Ma Greystone on, Evie. What do you want to do?”
I stare out the window into the darkness. Pat is a mother to me, I can’t cut them all off. I think she’d turn up every day even if I tried. Besides, if I really wanted that, I would have moved us to Scotland, not virtually the next farm over.
“Put her on speaker, but tell her she’s on it, Tom.”
“Evie, James, Bucky, oh my babies, are you all alright?” Her voice comes through the car sound system. She sounds close to tears, in fact she’s probably been crying. No emotions are held back in the Greystone house—love, laughter, joy, anger, upset, all ebb and flow through the home.
“Pat, we’re all okay. I’m sure you know by now that we’re headed towards you.”
“Yes, Jonno phoned. I’ve got your rooms ready.”
I raise my eyes to the heavens. “We’re going to stay with Marshall.” Not a lie per se, just not at the house they think Marshall lives in. James turns to look at me, as does Bucky, they look at each other, James points at me and mouths ‘impressive.’ “Can I call you tomorrow morning and you can come and see us all?”
“Just tell me you are all fine, Evie. Well, not fine, but not hurt physically, and I’ll let you be until tomorrow.”
“Yes, we’re all fine. Not physically hurt. A bit battered emotionally I’d say, but…” I trail off, as I start to get a bit choked up. James takes my hand and smiles comfortingly at me, Bucky takes the other. “We’ll be fine though, Pat. Don’t worry too much, I know we’ll be alright,” I reassure her.
“Nighty night, then, my babies. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hangs up with a sniff of tears.
“Jonno’s tracking us,” Tommy states.
“Yes, I knew he would. Do you think they’re all still there?”
James gets his phone out and looks at an app. “Yeah, they are. I can’t see Dad going before he knows where we are.”
“I won’t miss the scrutiny,” I add.
James snorts out a laugh at me, as does Tommy. “You’re mad if you think they are going to stop. In fact, I’d say it’ll get worse because they can’t talk to you. You have no idea how much they flap around like old hens. Everyone you meet, they check. When you went to meet Dad at that hotel, I thought we had a ‘pentagon situation,’” James says, switching to a deep American voice.
“What on Earth are you talking about?” I look between him and Tommy in bewilderment.
“Well, they say it on intelligence shows, don’t they? ‘We have a pentagon situation.’ Well anyway, it was all hands to the pumps to find you. Half of London was mobilised.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, James.”
He huffs out, “Living in a dream world, mother. You’ll be top priority now they don’t have eyes on you, with Jude not being with you every day.”
“I’m going to live on a farm in North Devon, it hardly warrants covert operations. I’m a very visible person,” I state indignantly
“They’ll probably train some sheep to follow you,” puts in Bucky, musing out loud. “If you notice a couple of sheep wandering after you, they might have bionic eyes. Give ‘em a check out.”
“Or,” starts James, “they’ll retrain Mr. Tubbs to send coded hoof beats, morse code style.” He starts beating on the back of the seat in mock morse code. “They’ll put a pad in his stable for him to transmit.”
Bucky barks out a laugh and says, “No, it'll be Pinky. She’s super intelligent. She’ll pass messages via Crockett, cos he goes out in the fields with the spying sheep. It’ll be Farm FM all over again with the animals.” Both of them are laughing hysterically.
“Mr. Tubbs will forget his messages if he has a female to entertain,” I say. “He is a man, after all. My money will be on Pinky. That pony used to wander into the post office in the village in Yorkshire, I’m sure she’ll know how to send a telegram.”
The boys are raucously laughing and I start to laugh with them. Oh God, I hope we’re going to be alright, and I’ve made the right decision. I know I was angry. Well, angry is the understatement of the year, I was raging. Looking to make a statement and move on. Well, I’ve certainly done that, it's if they’ll let me go.
