This morning, she wanted Luca to ride Beck. He’d argued that the horse wasn’t ready, certain they’d have serious protests as soon as they left his comfort zone. Worked in hand, the grey stallion hadn’t put a hoof wrong all week, already calmer on the yard and in the round pen, the stud’s herd more familiar. Luca trusted his bravery, but it was asking the world of him to trust a man on his back again.

He hoped Ronnie would stick to her word and hold back at least another month from any public announcements about the stallion standing. For now, it felt as though the rest of the world was outside this place’s bubble time warp, and Mishaal with it, but he had no way of knowing how long for. Whenever Luca’s mobile phone was in signal, it registered multiple missed calls, although that wasn’t unusual. His outgoing voicemail message remained deliberately vague. The stud’s landline rang rarely, and almost inevitably for Pax. The debris of her exploding marriage was everywhere – the phone arguments, comings and goings, hastily wiped tears, and Ronnie’s perpetual distraction.

As he hurried outside, the familiar klaxon was sounding again. Spotting Pax hurtling under the first stable arch, grey puppy and the old man’s dog in her wake, he hung back in the courtyard behind the main house, watching the long legs sprinting across the arrivals yard in just a few deerlike bounds before she disappeared into the cottage.

The klaxon stopped with a rattling ping.

Hearing a growl behind him, he realised one of Ronnie’s dogs had his boot heel in her teeth, eyes playful and white-rimmed, backside gyrating. The other, older one appeared a moment later and laid into his other boot.

He waited for Ronnie to follow. When she didn’t appear, he headed back inside, small dogs growling at each foot.

She was in the kitchen, coat half on, phone pressed to her ear, blue eyes brimming. Hushing the dogs furiously, she hung up. He’d never seen Ronnie blush before, as unexpected as a wink in a royal portrait.

‘Pax must have picked it up at the same time.’ She adopted an indignant power pose. ‘That ghastly man is so pompous. You know he—’ She stopped herself. ‘NOYB. Sorry.’

‘Go on if it helps.’ He was growing accustomed to life in the eye of Pax’s marital storm.

‘Mack’s using his parents to—’ She stopped herself again. ‘No, it’s not fair to involve you, Luca. Let’s take that handsome chap of mine for a hack, shall we? Blow off the cobwebs.’ She whisked past him, dogs trotting behind like ladies in waiting.

*

The Saddle Bags had pulled up at the opposite end of the set-aside field, where a second gate opened onto a grass track that led back past the old manor’s garden walls to the Plum Run, Mo dismounting to undo the twine tying it shut, puffing heavily from her gallop.

‘That’ll have got your blood up for your interview, Bridge, love!’ She beamed as Bridge passed.