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But before I can get the words out, a loud clanging metallic toot sounds around the hallway and I jump a little in my skin.
‘For fuck’s sake. I thought we’d hidden Albert’s trumpet,’ Jasper moans.
‘Is he going to play some music?’ I ask.
‘Music is not the term for the sound that comes out of that thing. I’ve heard elephants pass wind more melodically,’ he grumbles.
He glares across the room. ‘Come on. Let’s go get some grapes from the cheese table and we can throw them at him.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, I’m not wasting the good brie on him…’ he jokes, and he puts an arm out so he can lead me away. ‘Did you want to ask me something?’
I did have something to ask him. But maybe now’s not the time.
SEVENTEEN
23rd December
I wake the next morning, my eyes opening wide with fright. Is that an alarm? Is the place on fire? I didn’t overindulge at the party given I’d gone heavy the night before at the wedding, so it ended up being a very pleasant social event. I ate a shitload of excellent brie, I met a man who made his millions manufacturing shoes for dogs, I may have had an animated singalong at the end when the piano man went all for broke and burst out ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’. And I watched as Miles and Jasper left the party to return Cressida to the Hunter’s Lodge passed out drunk. And as they promised, they did that by putting her in a wheelbarrow and taking pictures.
None of it explains that sound though. Is that how they announce breakfast? I lie there remembering where I am, in my four-poster bed, my dress carefully draped over a chair in the corner. I reach over for my phone. It’s 6.30 in the bloody morning. I curl back into a ball in this very warm and extremely comfortable bed but scroll through my phone to see mymessages from Leo. He never replied. I don’t know how I feel about that.
There’s that sound again. It sounds like a boat, leaving a dock. Is it their doorbell? Maybe the postman has packages. Maybe it’s the Ocado man. I wrap my duvet around me and head to the window to have a look. Nothing, just an assortment of cars and the misty winter dark sitting over the lake. I knock lightly on Jasper’s door. I hear a grunt from behind it, which I’m not quite sure is a sign to enter so I open it very gingerly.
‘Please don’t tell me you’re an early riser,’ he mumbles. Jasper is on his own, face down on the pillow, lost under his duvet. He possibly had a bit more to drink than me last night. His clothes from last night are strewn all over the floor. ‘I told you we’re not that posh. If you want a coffee, head down to the kitchen and make one yourself. My mum has one of those pod machines like at work.’
‘Oh no, it’s just…I heard a sound. I was worried it was an alarm or something,’ I tell him.
‘It was probably a pheasant outside, they make a lot of noise.’
‘Do they sound like horns?’
‘What? Maggie? You did have a lot of cheese. Go back to bed.’
The horn suddenly sounds again and Jasper’s eyes fully open, snarling.
‘Was that the sound?’ he asks me.
‘Yeah. Is everything alright? Is the house on fire?’ I ask him.
He doesn’t answer but picks up his phone and makes a call. ‘Hi, did you know…? I can’t believe it…He said what? The absolute…Can you swing by in ten minutes? OK…’ He hangs up and gets out of bed, putting on some socks and pulling a hoodie over his checked pyjama bottoms, mumbling angrily. I don’t know what is happening but this is the Jasper I am used to.
‘I recognise the fury. I’ll guess this isn’t an IT problem?’ I joke.
‘I wish,’ he says, looking at me curiously in my duvet shroud. ‘Go back to bed, Maggie. I’m sorry it woke you,’ he tells me.
‘Is everything alright?’ I ask. ‘Can I help with anything?’
He stands up, putting his hood up over his unruly mop of hair. ‘You wanted to know how posh we are? Well, my brother has organised a hunt this morning. Idiot.’
‘A hunt? What is he hunting?’ I say, horrified.
‘Who bloody knows? What you heard was a hunting horn. He’s probably still bloody drunk, knowing him.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ I ask him.
‘I’m going to stop it, obviously,’ he says confidently.
