‘Watch this.’ She grinned with pride as she raised her hand and let out a soft whistle. A big dapple-grey mare pricked up her large ears and galloped towards them. The grey stopped right in front of Charlotte and lowered her head to allow the bridle to be slipped into place. ‘Have you missed me, Florrie? She has the sweetest temperament. Perfect for children. She’s going to spend a couple of hours helping out at the riding school later today, because one of theirs has gone lame.’

Jack found himself in awe of the relationship Charlotte clearly had with Florrie, seeing this animal, standing head and shoulders above Charlotte, doing as she was asked out of something other than ownership or duty. It seemed to him that the horse respected, trusted, maybe even loved Charlotte. Jack found it inspiring to watch. She then took the second bridle, climbed the gate and ventured into the field. At the far end, a chestnut brown beast of a horse grazed on his own. Charlotte raised her arm high in the air and kept it there until she had his attention. Once he’d seen her, she made a swift gesture to come forwards. The chestnut reared up for a second, like a bucking bronco, then galloped towards her at a frightening speed.

Even from the safe side of the gate, Jack could feel the ground shuddering underfoot. Charlotte gave Jack a glance over her shoulder. ‘He’s showing off.’ The chestnut raced past her, looped, circled and eventually came to rest by her shoulder, head held high. ‘He’s a mustang. A rescue from some prat from the US who brought him over here and then couldn’t train him. They gelded him, but that didn’t help. They saw him as no practical use to anyone, so they neglected him. I saw him in their field as I was passing one day and – my God – he was magnificent. Underweight and unkempt, but still magnificent. See how he’s not giving me his head?’

This mustang stood far taller than the grey, towering over Charlotte. Then his head turned and his dark, frightened eyes focussed on Jack. He let out a jet of hot air from his nostrils that blew loose hair across Charlotte’s forehead. She looked up and whispered, ‘Judas.’ The mustang lowered his head and allowed her to put on his bridle. That’s all it took. The right word, at the right moment.