Sarah Hall - The Wolf Border

He walks after dinner, down to the lake, around the lake, where trout rise and kiss the surface, then flicker away. This is also an addiction of sorts, Rachel thinks, but harmless — wholesome even. He is becoming fit; the worry spots on his arms are healing. She makes him sandwiches, flasks of tea — something she never willingly did when they were children. The gentle, demonic action is saving him; she hopes it is saving him. Still, she worries when he is gone too long, and on the days when he is dour, depressed, when he talks of Emily, and all that has been lost, and says the best part of his life is gone. Will he relapse? Not under her jurisdiction, she is determined.

You’re going to find someone, she says. You can still have children. You’re doing really well.

All of which is true, though probably not while he is sequestered at Seldom Seen, living with his sister and her child. Alexander comes to dinner once a week and stays the night. They are careful, quiet, considerate of the other adult in the household. It is companionable, this male grouping, and suits her sensibilities. Everyone gets on. Just occasionally she senses envy or frustration — something Alexander says or a look, subtly different to his response when she mentioned Kyle. A brother is greater and lesser than a sexual rival. A lover can be given up, but a sibling is a lifelong fixture, if the relationship is good. She knows he enjoyed having her to himself, being free to walk naked around the house, the lack of restraint, possibly even the potential role of father. The redefinition is not always easy to parse. It is true: she and Lawrence have found a kind of unity, a compatibility. They crawl across the floor, flanking the baby, like great doting pilots. They are perhaps reliving an era, or living an era that never existed, a childhood where they got along. She suddenly has a family, on her terms, and without antagonism.

She eats out with Alexander in L’Enclume on her birthday. It is just the two of them and they will stay the night, perhaps his way of marking territory, benignly. The restaurant is expensive and has flagrantly excessive courses. They indulge in particular intimacies in the luxurious bedroom. The sex is good, as good; he punishes her with pleasure. She thinks about but does not call home. The next morning the night’s gluttony is forgotten, and they indulge in a colossal breakfast. Venison sausages. Passionfruit and rosewater salad.

How’s Lawrence getting on? Alexander asks.

Really well, I think.

Yes. He seems back on his feet now.

Which means, perhaps, when will he be going back to Leeds? Of course, he does not say it, would not say it. Nor is his domestic set-up wholly conventional — the living arrangements with Chloe. She notes it, makes a point of inviting him over for the weekend while Lawrence is climbing Great Gable. He is happy enough, her boyfriend, the boyfriend of her brother’s sister. Life is not straightforward: relationships bifurcate; there is nothing more complicated, more confounding, than love.

*

At the next project meeting, rather surprisingly, Thomas makes a late appearance. Before his arrival, they discuss whether or not to implant the pups with tracking devices, which will involve darting them — the same procedure as before. It’s not strictly necessary, Rachel argues, given their range and the ease with which they might be located. But the data gathered would be interesting. There’s also the question of sterilisation. This would need to be done before the females reach two years of age. The phenomenon of extra breeding couples in packs is rare, she explains, and all the studies relate to larger territories than Annerdale, but a surfeit of food might foster multiple breeding, and deer on the estate are plentiful. It’s a possibility. The volunteers dutifully make notes, as if in a lecture hall.

What would happen then? Sylvia asks.

We’d have to control numbers. It might lead to in-fighting. There just isn’t enough room.

She can see the idea of invasive sterilisation this early in the scheme makes Sylvia uncomfortable, but it must be considered. A reminder that the enclosure is governed, that it still requires management. Sylvia nods and frowns.

Did Daddy know about this at the start?

I’ve talked to him about it, yes.

That’s odd. He didn’t say anything to me.

The faintest glimmer of annoyance in Sylvia’s voice. Rachel wonders whether her father sold her the project unrealistically, a boil-in-the-bag Eden, with no human interface, though she has read enough over the last year to know conservation is not without difficult choices, and sacrifices. Huib makes a round of tea for them all and tries to reassure her.

It’s a common procedure, Syl. It’s used in the wild as well, like the elephants in Kruger. Kinder than letting things get out of control in a given population. And much better than destroying the animals.

She nods again.

I know. It just seems a shame, that’s all. It’s an awful thing to have done to you.

Rachel does not disagree with her, but this is the price of partial freedom, and the girl knows better than to make emotional human connections with the animals. Sylvia seems out of sorts, unlike her usual self. She is pulling at a loose thread on her shirt.

We’ll come back to it, Rachel says. We don’t need to decide yet.

By which point, the Earl’s daughter will no longer be at Annerdale. They move on to other topics. The BBC documentary Gregor is filming has been scheduled to air the following spring; Attenborough has agreed to narrate. The estate’s legal team is working on an insurance-cost document relating to possible wolf-watching tours. The security report is good, though Michael is absent; Rachel has not seen him in weeks. His son, Barnaby, has been patrolling the fence and taking care of other duties around the estate.

Towards the end of the meeting, Thomas arrives. He is brusque as he greets them, lacks his usual bombastic charm.

Hello all. Sorry to parachute in. If you don’t mind –

Instead of taking a chair, he stands at the head of the table, fingers locked together, chin tucked in — a politician’s demeanour. A serious announcement is coming, Rachel thinks. Bad news. Thomas glances at Sylvia; she looks away, nurses her cup of tea, thumbing the rim. She already knows something, Rachel thinks. Or is she cross with her father?

I’m afraid to say, there’s been a very sad development.

Thomas pauses, seems to stall before he has properly begun.

Oh, dear. This is really very tough. Very tough.

Surely it cannot be something to do with the project itself, Rachel thinks. The Earl may have been expressing dwindling interest, but he can’t possibly have decided to abandon the scheme, not without speaking to her first. Thomas clears his throat, composes himself.

Last month, Lena Stott was diagnosed with cancer. The prognosis is not good, I’m sorry to say — it’s particularly aggressive. We don’t expect her to recover.

He pauses, swallows, then continues.

As you know, the Stotts have been at Annerdale for a very long time. It’s a terrible blow. We’ll be offering them all the support we can over the coming weeks. I’m sure you understand how difficult this is for Michael and Barnaby.

The room remains quiet. The volunteers shift awkwardly in their chairs, still new to the estate and not yet comfortable around its major players, not least the Earl, whom they have seen little of. Sylvia stares ahead, unblinking. Her father looks about at the group, waiting for a response perhaps.

Please pass on all our sympathies, Rachel says.

Yes, Huib agrees. We’re all terribly sorry.

Thank you. Now, I’m afraid on this unfortunate note I must leave you.

Another trip across the border, where secession negotiations are still taking place and Thomas is embroiled. On the way out he leans towards Rachel, asks quietly if today’s notes could be sent to Honor. There are matters on the agenda he would like to discuss with the team — he does not specify which. She nods — the minutes are always sent, though he often doesn’t read them. Then he is gone. The meeting is concluded. The volunteers quietly disperse. Huib gives Sylvia a hug. She is suddenly teary and leans against his shoulder; he talks to her quietly. Rachel is surprised by her discomposure and their closeness. Talk of interfering with wolves and terminal cancer has upset her. Rachel recalls the way Michael and Lena helped steward Leo at Christmas — covetously, as if no pedigree separated them, as if they were related. Sylvia has known them since birth. Or there’s possibly more to it — the underlying anxiety about her career, some other trouble. She stands back and lets Huib comfort her, at a loss.