The Fox of Richmond Park Read online

  About the Author

  When Kate Dreyer was seven years old, she wrote a children’s book optimistically titled Animal Story 1, in which a young girl rescues a fox. She bound it herself, using a cereal box as a hardback cover. Although she never completed the much-anticipated sequel, she subsequently devoured all the animal stories on which she could get her hands.

  More recently, her love for animals has manifested itself in other creative ways, namely painting, getting tattoos and looking out of office windows longingly. Writing has always been there in the background, but one day it tapped her on the shoulder and asked why she wasn’t doing more of it. She said she didn’t know, so she started doing more of it.

  The Fox of Richmond Park is her first ‘proper’ novel, sparked by eight years of living in London and working in dull office jobs. Kate’s ultimate dream is to write, paint and look after animals for a living. Or to be a magpie.

  The Fox of Richmond Park

  Kate Dreyer

  This edition first published in 2017

  Unbound

  6th Floor Mutual House, 70 Conduit Street,

  London W1S 2GF

  www.unbound.com

  All rights reserved

  © Kate Dreyer, 2017

  The right of Kate Dreyer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1911586333

  ISBN (Paperback): 978-1911586340

  Design by Mecob

  Cover images:

  © Shutterstock.com/Jef Thompson

  © Textures.com

  Fox image by www.animalsclipart.com

  Dedicated to Nate, whose answer to my most frequently asked question: ‘Is this ridiculous?’ is always: ‘Yes. I love it.’

  Dear Reader,

  The book you are holding came about in a rather different way from most others. It was funded directly by readers through a new website: Unbound.

  Unbound is the creation of three writers. We started the company because we believed there had to be a better deal for both writers and readers. On the Unbound website, authors share the ideas for the books they want to write directly with readers. If enough of you support the book by pledging for it in advance, we produce a beautifully bound special subscribers’ edition and distribute a regular edition and e-book wherever books are sold, in shops and online.

  This new way of publishing is actually a very old idea (Samuel Johnson funded his dictionary this way). We’re just using the internet to build each writer a network of patrons. Here, at the back of this book, you’ll find the names of all the people who made it happen.

  Publishing in this way means readers are no longer just passive consumers of the books they buy, and authors are free to write the books they really want. They get a much fairer return too – half the profits their books generate, rather than a tiny percentage of the cover price.

  If you’re not yet a subscriber, we hope that you’ll want to join our publishing revolution and have your name listed in one of our books in the future. To get you started, here is a £5 discount on your first pledge. Just visit unbound.com, make your pledge and type VINCE17 in the promo code box when you check out.

  Thank you for your support,

  Dan, Justin and John

  Founders, Unbound

  Super Patrons

  Kirsten Beacock

  Laura Brown

  Stephanie Cave

  Sarah Conway

  Madge & Ron Dreyer

  Jessica Groenendijk

  Andrew Hoyle

  Allison Hoyle

  Josh Jordan

  Dan Kieran

  Robert Kinns

  Nate Lanxon

  David Martin

  Lexi Mills

  John Mitchinson

  Michael Parsons

  Justin Pollard

  Brad Rice

  David Riley

  Sally Russo

  Daphne Shinn

  Jennie Smith

  Colin Smith

  Charlotte Steggz

  Lisa Taylor

  Susie Thompson

  Richard Trenholm

  David Whitney

  Louisa Wilson

  Contents

  About the Author

  [Dedication]

  [Dear Reader Letter]

  Super Patrons

  1. Chapter 1

  2. Chapter 2

  3. Chapter 3

  4. Chapter 4

  5. Chapter 5

  6. Chapter 6

  7. Chapter 7

  8. Chapter 8

  9. Chapter 9

  10. Chapter 10

  11. Chapter 11

  12. Chapter 12

  13. Chapter 13

  14. Chapter 14

  15. Chapter 15

  16. Chapter 16

  17. Chapter 17

  Acknowledgements

  Patrons

  1

  ‘Why I should leave,’ Vince snarled as he prowled back and forth in the semi-circle of bare earth that marked the entrance to his den, black ears flat to his head, ‘just because some over-entitled deer want to be near the lake?’

  ‘It’s not like that. And you can dig a new, bigger den in a day or two. I don’t see what the problem is. Other animals have moved without a fuss.’ Edward tilted his antlers towards the small skulk of foxes several leaps away, who had gathered at the edge of the woodland to wait for the sun to set. ‘And your friends are being very cooperative.’

  ‘That’s because you’ve told them a load of scat about how great the cemetery is,’ Vince said, the copper fur on his back bristling. He’d had every intention of talking this through civilly with the stag, but his temper had other ideas. Just like last time.

  ‘The cemetery is perfectly fine – there’s trees all around, and there’ll be more rats for you to eat there.’ Edward clenched his jaw.

  ‘Because it’s right next to the town! There are people everywhere! It’s not like there’s no room here for all of us. You just don’t want to have to share the best spot with us.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Edward snorted.

  The spring sun was low, the sky now washed with pink, but the lake still glittered as the fish gulped at the surface, water boatmen disappearing into their gaping mouths. Now was the time the frogs began to clamber up the rocks and sit in the soft, warm dusk, licking flies from the air to fill their spongy bellies. Vince had learned to hunt here. His father showed him how to catch frogs, lying low in the grass and pouncing on the fattest, slowest ones. On the odd occasions Vince thought about his own future cubs, the lake and the woodlands beside it were always the setting for his daydreams.

  Vince stopped pacing and sat on his haunches, golden eyes narrowed. ‘If the cemetery is so stinking great, why don’t the deer move there?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We need to be near water. Can you imagine having to trek back and forth out in the open like that? Just wandering about exposed all the time?’

  ‘But it’s fine for us?’ Vince barked, unmoved by the stag’s statuesque appearance.

  ‘Exactly.’ Edward stamped his hoof and a cloud of dust billowed between his glossy russet forelegs. ‘Look, we’re different animals, Vince. You know that. Foxes, rabbits, squirrels, you’re fine near the town. You’re underground all day and you can come to the lake at night. We deer, we need shelter, lots of grass, more s
pace to run. Our woodland is getting too crowded and the pond near us is far too small.’

  ‘Rat scat. You just think you’re better than us. Always have. You think you can push everyone in this park around. Or get them on your side with bribes. Now you come over here all, “Ooh! We fancy a bit of this lake action actually, so get out of the way or get an antler up the backside,” yeah?’

  Edward lowered his head and turned an oil-black eye to the fox. ‘You’d better be quiet, vermin.’ The deer’s voice rumbled through the air between the two animals. ‘You know why we’re in charge. You think any old animal can organise Park Watch? Keep you all safe? This place is nothing without us.’

  ‘It was fine before you became Head Stag,’ Vince said.

  ‘Your parents told you that, I suppose? Yes, well, that doesn’t surprise me. And they clearly passed on their unruly nature to their offspring. Time to grow up, don’t you agree, Vince? You will move to the cemetery with the other foxes, and that’s the end of it.’

  Vince rose onto all four paws, stretched his snout towards Edward’s and bared his fangs. ‘What happens if I say no?’ he growled.

  ‘We will destroy your den tomorrow morning’ – the deer lifted his head high – ‘whether you are in it or not.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Vince said. ‘My grandparents dug this den. It’s been my family’s for ten seasons.’

  ‘Your call.’ Edward turned his towering frame away from the fox with a swish of his tail.

  Vince wouldn’t be able to stop them. His teeth and claws could do some damage to one, two even, but they would be no match against a mass of dagger-like antlers and sharp, solid hooves. The other foxes wouldn’t risk helping. Not this time, anyway. This wasn’t another petty disagreement about noise, or digging in the wrong place, and they had their own homes and families to think of. Plus, they were getting tired of his constant arguments with Edward and the other deer. Just shut up and do what he says for once, they said. Why fight over every little thing? Relax and enjoy being safe.

  How could he relax? Do what Edward says or have his skull kicked in. Not much of a choice. Think for yourself. That’s what his parents taught him. But what else could he do? Leave? No mammal had left Richmond Park in countless seasons. Even the birds came back after migrating for winter. It just wasn’t done. That didn’t mean he couldn’t, though.

  Before his better judgement could stop him, Vince yelled up at the deer’s backside. ‘I’d rather leave the park altogether than stay here with you.’

  Scat. Did I mean that?

  Edward sighed and circled back to face Vince. ‘Leave? Really, Vince? Have you ever heard the phrase “cutting off your nose to spite your face”? The humans say it. It means you—’

  ‘I know what it means,’ Vince spat.

  ‘Very well,’ Edward continued. ‘Look, we are in charge. We always have been and we always will be, that’s just the way it is here. But I’m not your enemy, Vince. This park is a wonderful place where we can all live together in safety, where humans respect us and take care of us. But there are rules. Just follow the rules like everyone else and you can stay. The last thing we want is to drive anyone away. Be serious, Vince. Do you really want to leave this place and live among humans? Dodging their cars, being kept awake by their incessant noise, eating their leftovers out of bins? Especially after what happened to your father.’

  My father would never have put up with this.

  ‘I’d rather eat their leftovers than ponce around posing for photos like one of their desperate pets.’

  Edward snorted and stomped a hoof. ‘Watch your mouth, fox!’

  Vince’s lips curled into a smile. ‘Have you ever heard the phrase, “in for a penny, in for a pound”? He held his paws to his head like two extra ears, and waggled his toes. ‘Ooh, look at my beautiful antlers! Please, human, please take a picture!’ Edward reared onto his hind legs and Vince leapt backwards. A yelp escaped the fox’s mouth as the deer’s glossy black hooves thumped into the dirt, missing his brush by a hair.

  ‘I’ll aim for your head next time,’ Edward roared, then whispered under his breath, ‘Like father like son.’

  Before Vince could reply, Edward was already dashing away through the trees. The other foxes had heard the noise and were looking over at Vince, frowning.

  Vince exhaled slowly. ‘Hmm, that went well,’ he muttered to himself.

  *

  Despite having a full belly, Vince couldn’t sleep. His night of hunting had been marred by Edward, and the prospect of wandering around in the daylight to look for a new home had put him on edge. The frogs in his stomach would be his last fresh ones for a while, and these dark early morning hours one last chance to rest before his eviction.

  I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it. There’s another nice human saying for you, Edward. The irony has not gone unnoticed, either.

  ‘Are you in there?’ A soft voice called from the den entrance. It was Sophie, the only fox he simultaneously did and did not want to speak to.

  ‘No,’ Vince mumbled.

  Sophie made her way down to the main chamber, where twisted tree roots supported the dry earth ceiling. Vince was curled underneath, the voluminous thickness of his brush covering his snout.

  ‘We were wondering if you’d changed your mind,’ Sophie said, sitting back on her haunches.

  Vince sighed into his pillow of fur. ‘As soon as the sun comes up, Edward will arrive with the herd and destroy my home. He hasn’t left me much choice, has he?’

  ‘Why are you being so stubborn? Come to the cemetery with the rest of us. They’ll let you stay if you just apologise.’

  ‘No thanks.’ Vince shifted his weight and buried his face deeper into his tail.

  ‘You’re being ridiculous. There’s loads of space, more trees, you can have a den twice the size of this one. Plus, the deer have said we can hunt the birds on the outskirts.’

  Vince lifted his head and peered at Sophie over his brush. ‘Oh, the deer have said, have they? How kind of them! Do the deer tell you where you can drop your scat as well?’ he snarled.

  Sophie paused for a moment, blinked, then whispered, ‘There’s no need to be like that. We’re just worried. As much as you hate the deer – and don’t get me wrong, you know I hate them too – you have to admit that it’s safe here, right? Edward wants what’s best for the park, and for everyone. He may be a pain in the backside about it sometimes, but you have to look at the bigger picture. The humans come to the park to see all of us animals. We’re like a show. As soon as you leave the cast, you’ll be just another pest.’

  ‘Open your eyes, Soph. The deer already treat us like pests. At least out there I’ll be a pest who can do whatever he wants. No one telling me what time I can hunt, what I can and can’t eat, when to be quiet, how big my den can be…’

  She thrust her snout forward. ‘You’re exaggerating, like you always do. Don’t you understand that you could get hit by a car, or shot, or attacked by a city fox…?’

  ‘I know. I don’t care.’

  ‘How can you not care?’

  ‘You don’t understand. My grandparents built this den when they first arrived here, my parents lived in it their whole lives, and now it’s mine. Ten seasons.’ Vince uncurled and lifted himself onto his paws. ‘Except it’s not mine, is it? It was never mine, or my parents’, or my grandparents’. As long as my den is in this park, the deer own it. They own everything. One deer decides he wants a new tree to scratch his backside on and boom, we have to move.’

  ‘We all have to make sacrifices, Vince, that’s how it works.’

  ‘They’re full of scat, Sophie. How can you not see that? All those excuses about their pond being too small, it’s lies. They just saw something they wanted and now they’re taking it.’

  Sophie looked down at her paws. ‘Maybe that’s just the price we have to pay to live in safety.’

  Vince laughed. ‘You think this is the only park in London?’

  ‘No. B
ut it’s the biggest. It’s the safest.’

  ‘How do you know that? Because those jumped-up twig-heads told you?’

  Sophie widened her yellow eyes. ‘Because… It just is. Everyone knows that.’

  Vince started to pace back and forth – as much as he could in the confined space. ‘My parents told me about the park my grandparents were born in. A big, safe park just like this. Except more like how it used to be, before Edward. No one in charge telling anyone what to do. My father talked about going back there once, but then he died…’

  ‘So why did your grandparents travel here, if this other park was so brilliant?’

  ‘I don’t know, they never said. Maybe my grandparents didn’t tell them. But it was normal back then, wasn’t it? You wanted a change of scenery, you just went somewhere else. Animals could come and go. You must have heard the stories. Why stay in one place for ever when you can explore? But the point is, Richmond Park used to be the same, until Edward became head of the herd. My mother said he changed everything, made all these new Park Watch rules…’

  ‘I’m not disagreeing, but you know what older generations are like… Always going on about how great things used to be… Not all rules are bad, you know. They make things safe. Make sure there’s enough food to go around. They stop all the city animals from coming in too, don’t forget that. Do you really want to live somewhere where any old fox off the street can come and make a den next to yours?’

  ‘Ugh, you sound just like them.’ Vince turned, sunk onto the soil and curled his tail around himself once more. ‘I’m leaving, and that’s the end of it.’

  ‘Fine. I would have come with you, if things had been different. You know I—’

  ‘Don’t, Sophie. There’s no point.’

  ‘Goodbye, Vince.’ Sophie sighed, then whispered, ‘I’ll miss you,’ before slinking back through the tunnel and disappearing into the cold night.

  ‘I’ll miss you too,’ Vince breathed to himself.