He was pleased to see that the mare’s stall had been cleaned and laid with fresh straw, and the hay bag and feed bucket had been replenished. He topped up her bucket of water and she drank half of it, so he filled it again to last her until the morning. He talked to her as he pottered about, asking her if she’d enjoyed her day in the country, and she gave him a little nudge with her head so that he would stroke her neck. ‘I’ve enjoyed it as well,’ he told her, ‘and I wish I’d asked your name. If we go out again I’ll find it out so we can have a proper chat.’

There was a rug folded over the stall door, so he fastened it over her so that she wouldn’t get cold. She’d had a longer journey than she normally had and he didn’t want her to catch a chill if she sweated.

‘Cheerio then,’ he said, as he fastened the bolt on the door. ‘I’ll have a word wi’ you in ’morning.’

‘Are you talking to me?’ The voice came from outside the stable block.

‘No,’ Harry said. ‘Just to my pal here in ’stall. I was asking her if she’d enjoyed her trip out to ’country.’

A lamp was lifted to head height and he saw the stable lad, Jim Smith. He was grinning. ‘What did she say?’ he mocked.

‘She said it was ’best day she’s ever had,’ Harry replied as he walked past him. ‘Good night. Mek sure you lock up securely.’

The next morning he made a point of thanking Tannerson for the loan of the horse and wagon and said he’d been grateful for the opportunity to go and see his parents. He explained briefly about his mother’s condition, but didn’t labour the point. Tannerson was his employer, after all, and it was no concern of his.

He was wrong on that score, for Tannerson told him not to hesitate if he should need to visit again. ‘If it doesn’t interfere with your work, then it’s all right with me. And exercise keeps ’hosses in good condition.’

‘Aye, it does,’ Harry agreed, ‘though they need their rest as well if they’re working all ’week. I trimmed her fetlocks whilst I had her; gave her a good brush of her coat and mane as well. She’s a spanking hoss. What do you call her?’

Tannerson raised his eyebrows. ‘Can’t say I know,’ he admitted. ‘Does it matter, do you think?’

‘Aye, I do,’ Harry said. ‘She needs to know if we’re talking to her or ’other hosses. They all respond in one way or another.’

Tannerson nodded. ‘Well, you name her if you like, and ’others as well.’ He grinned.

‘Righty ho,’ Harry agreed. ‘She can be Nellie.’