Sorry this is very rushed, leaving right now to collect sister's grandkids to take to panto!
Outside, below the farmhouse window, the fox limped by unnoticed. Normally the solitary animal preferred to hunt by cover of night but hunger and pain had lately driven it to more desperate measures. The Farm proved fertile hunting ground. It had escaped the farmer’s rifle but the damage had been great.
Large spots of blood trailed in its wake, but fortunately its predators were few. Humans were the exception. Humans were to be feared. Its keen nose picked up the aroma of food but its acute hearing picked up too the sound of people, their every movement magnified in sound.
“’E’s finally flipped!” Ron at last found his voice, albeit a suspiciously croaky voice. “I knew it’d ‘appen sooner or later. It’s all that ‘avin’ to eat ‘is own terrible cookin’ all ‘is life done it. Slugs, me ol’ mate, you don’t ‘ave no money. It’s all in yer ‘ead, innit? Now you might be able to afford a week by the seaside and that’s fine, you can ‘ave your week wearin’ a knotted ‘ankie on yer ‘ead and paddlin’ in the sea but you ain’t…you just AIN’T goin’ to Australia!” Ron had sprung to his feet to deliver his emphatic speech and he sank weakly back down and banged the saltpot down on the table so hard that grains of salt flew in the air.
“See?” He added, with a shaky breath and an embarrassed smile as everyone stared, and he firmly folded his arms.
Stunned, Slugger opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly found himself sitting alone and clutching the letter with trembling hands as a loud whinnying from the stables alerted the occupants of the farmhouse that the horses sensed an intruder.
“The horses!” Dora was first to the door, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen at the thought of any of her beloved horses being hurt, and so glad to have Steve by her side, the scent of his aftershave, the reassuring touch of his hand on her shoulder, the tickle of his warm breath on her neck as he whispered, “It’s okay, girl.”
“The fox!” Hazel rejoined, indicating as a red-brown creature hobbled as pathetically fast as its injured hind leg would allow. “Ron, do something!”
“On the case, kid!” Ron had already grabbed the dangerously loaded shotgun from where it had been hidden it in a rarely used store cupboard, little dreaming what havoc he was about to unleash…