Added to that was the ambivalence of being back at Thorny Walk for the first time in so long. I was bitter and hurt.
A spot of shooting might lift my spirits. Blowing the head off Peter Rabbit sounded like a notion I could live with just then.
I handed Monte’s reins to a new stable boy who Father had hired after Alfie had been called up then went to fetch a shotgun. Jack, Father’s favourite liver and white spaniel, danced excitedly at my feet, and I decided to let him come along.
We tramped over the fields, flushing quail and partridge, which I shot at half-heartedly.
I was far from home when a sudden fog descended on us, and the further away we went, the denser it became.
I began to feel uneasy and decided to turn back. Jack seemed to pick up on my emotions.