‘Ready to try a little jump?’ I call out, and Tui shakes her head with such passionate agreement that she almost falls right off into the dirt.

‘Whoa!’ I cry, just as Kit shouts the exact same thing, and Tui looks at each of us in turn before bursting into fits of laughter.

‘I scared you!’ she cackles, laughing so hard that I find myself joining in. Kit, who has now vaulted the fence and is strolling towards me, smirks wryly at the two of us.

‘Flaming pair of crazy chooks,’ he remarks, patting Keith’s hot neck as I pull Tui and the pony to a standstill.

‘Have a quick breather,’ I tell her. Then, turning to Kit, ‘Can you help me build a few jumps?’

We collect the blocks that are stacked in the far corner, then Kit returns to fetch the poles, while I count out the correct strides.

‘I can’t believe how much she’s already improved,’ he says, using his foot to lever one end of a pole into its slot. ‘You’ve worked wonders with her.’

‘I didn’t do anything, really,’ I say, throwing in a shrug for good measure. ‘She just needed to think about it in a different way.’

‘That’s true of a lot of things in life,’ he replies, sounding thoughtful. ‘Often, I find that if you turn a problem on its head, it tends to solve itself.’

If only that were true, I want to say, but I’m unwilling to put a dampener on such a positive day.

‘All set?’ I ask, as Kit bends down to arrange the final set of poles into a crossbar. Tui flaps her legs ineffectually against Keith’s sides.

‘Just squeeze with your ankles,’ I call. ‘That’s right – perfect.’

The chunky pony shuffles forwards and I note with pride that Tui has remembered to gather up her reins, and is holding them correctly with her thumbs balanced on the top. Keith is arching his neck like a dressage champion now, which reminds me unavoidably of Suki. My horse was as far removed from a riding-school plodder as it is possible to be, and was more likely to prance sideways than trot in a straight line, but she did like to stay on the bit and flutter her eyelashes at everyone. A shameless flirt, but so beautiful with it. She was only eight when she was killed. No age at all.

‘Jumps! Jumps! Jumps!’ Tui choruses, and I hear Kit tutting at her good-naturedly.

‘Come on, then,’ I say, crossing the outdoor school. I swap the lunge rein for a shorter one and clip it on to Keith’s bit.

‘I’ll jump them with you on the first go.’

Tui’s whoop of joy as we clear the first fence together is so loud that Kit claps his hands over his ears.

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