‘Get out!’ Lester cried, eyes darting to the stallion.

Fast as a cobra, Beck lunged at the open door. In the nick of time, it was slammed shut, his bared teeth clashing against the bars. Then, tossing his great head, he spun to face the man still in his stable. One foreleg struck out and hammered down.

‘Get back with you,’ Lester muttered softly, lifting his chin, assessing the distance to the door. The horse’s head swung sideways, teeth raking against the wall, then dropped low, feet stamping again. Lester kept very still, aware that even a royal wave would provoke attack now. He had seconds at best.

The soft voice spoke at the door, ‘Just come here, you big wimp.’

‘You are not helping,’ Lester breathed.

‘Who’s being a silly bloody clot, eh?’

‘Really, madam, I’d rather you – argh!’ It happened too fast. The horse swung round to present his rear guns and Lester flattened himself against the wall, eyes tight closed, bracing himself for a body-breaking kick with both iron-shod hind feet.

It didn’t come. Instead he heard a soft laugh and slurping. Slowly, he opened his eyes again.

To his amazement, the horse’s silver ears were pricked as he nosed the stallion bars, lifting his lip. He’d lost all interest in the man trespassing in his stable.

‘Budge up, big boy,’ came the soft voice and the stallion stepped back as the door opened again, a blonde head looking around it. ‘I’m so bloody sorry. Do you want to come out?’

It was the scruffy, tattooed blonde mother from the estate who Lester was forever catching pushing a buggy full of snotty infants around the tracks. Ronnie had a soft spot for her.

‘Carly,’ she reminded him.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without giving the tremble in his voice away. His heart was still thundering, adrenaline spiking. For a moment he’d thought the owl’s omen was coming true. As he brought out the empty hay nets, Carly thrust a sweet bag under his nose.

‘Cherry Tangfastics,’ she explained, offering him one. ‘Me and Ellis save them for lover boy here. He’ll do anything for one.’ To illustrate, Beck’s bristly pink and grey upper lip wobbled through the bars like an anteater’s snout.

‘That’s very good to know.’ Lester dusted himself down and glanced at his watch, as much to cover how flustered he was as check the time. He already knew he would never get the yard done in time to set off for the meet if he worked alone. He eyed the girl doubtfully; elfin features, lopsided ponytails, ripped jeans and painted nails. She hardly looked strong enough to lift a bucket. Ronnie’s temporary recruits were a motley bunch, press-ganged into volunteering for a few hours at a time until the new manager arrived. He was furious with Pip for letting the side down. For all the pink wellies and chatter, she was as strong as an ox. The two of them had coped perfectly well for months. ‘Did Mrs Ledwell ask you to come along?’