The going was treacherous underfoot with melted snow now turned to ice and I wondered if the hunt would be allowed to take place under such conditions. I was concentrating on not slipping and falling on my bottom when a figure loomed out of the hedge in front of me. I started as I found myself looking at a wild-looking woman—hair unkempt, flowing green skirts and, to my utter amazement, bare feet. She blocked my path, staring at me.

“Happy Christmas to you,” I said uncertainly, unnerved by two eyes, green as a cat’s, that stared at me unblinking. “You must be Sal. I’ve heard about you.”

“You want to watch yourself, miss,” she said with her deep West Country burr. “Or you might come a cropper.”

Then she darted through the hedge and was gone.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

I went on my way, a little shaken. I hadn’t really believed in Wild Sal until now, but she really existed and, what’s more, she had just given me some kind of warning. Had she only meant that the ground was treacherous underfoot or was she hinting at something more sinister?

I could hear Mr. Barclay thumping out the organ as I passed the church for my mother’s cottage. Good smells of roasting fowl and sage stuffing greeted me from the kitchen as my grandfather opened the front door, and I came through to the sitting room to find my mother and Noel Coward around the fire. I was given a grand welcome for once as they were all remarkably in the Christmas spirit. Even Noel Coward was wearing a ridiculous paper hat on his head.

“My dear child,” he said. “How good of you to come and visit our humble estate, when I’m sure you have a million and one things to amuse you at the big house. Tell me, what’s it like there—very feudal? Do the peasants all tug their forelocks?”

“You’ll see for yourself if you come to Christmas luncheon today.”

“Ah, I think Claire and I have decided not to accept the kind invitation, if you would give our apologies. It does become so tiring being adored and having to act like one’s public persona when the real Noel is a shy and retiring sort of chap.”

I laughed. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

“I am stung, wounded. Claire, your daughter has inherited your own brutal honesty.”

“I must say, that outfit looks good on you, Georgie. The cardigan suits you better than it ever did me.” My mother opened her arms. “Come and give your mama a Christmas hug. And Noel tells me I was terribly stingy with my gifts yesterday. Passing on a few old clothes, he called it. He said a big fat check would have been more in order. I pointed out that I’d already promised a shopping spree the moment we’re both back in London.”