Bonnie was yet to tell anyone her real reason for coming to England. She didn’t know whether it was the shock of seeing her two daughters together for the first time, or if it was simply the comfort of being in the presence of such a good and trusted friend once again, but suddenly, she didn’t want to lie any more.

Taking a deep breath, she told David everything.

38

I arrive at Koru Stables a little after eleven a.m. to find the yard crowded with riders. There is no sign of Kit or Tui, but I notice that the minibus is parked in its usual spot underneath the big tree. I’m just about to wander into the office when Allie, who has returned after her few days off to pack for Wellington, emerges from the tack room, her cheeks and bare shoulders sunburn pink.

‘Hi,’ I say, then swallow my next remark when she stares right through me as if I’m not there.

Unsure how to react, I follow her over to where two horses are tethered, waiting to be tacked up. Keith wickers with recognition when he sees me, and promptly wipes his velvety nose on my T-shirt.

‘Lovely to see you, too,’ I exclaim, but any amusement withers and dies when I see the look on Allie’s face.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask, and she nods at Keith.

‘Can you tack him up for me?’ she replies, strolling away before I have time to pry further. She doesn’t seem upset so much as distracted. Perhaps the fact that she’s nearing the end of her time here at the stables is making her feel out of sorts. By the time I have tightened Keith’s girth and fastened his noseband and cheek piece, Allie has vanished into the office to deal with payments, so I sneak a mint from my pocket into the chestnut pony’s grateful mouth, laughing as he curls up his lip and flashes his big yellow teeth at me. Heading towards the hay barn a minute later in search of Tui, I spot her in the outdoor school, playing chase with Beavis. With her head thrown back and her arms and legs flailing with carefree abandon as she runs from left to right, she is such a wonderful sight for my sore eyes that instead of calling out to her, I simply stand and drink her in.

My sister.

‘Have you ever seen a human being look so much like a windmill?’

It’s Kit, looking typically handsome, despite being red in the face and reeking of the muck heap.

I sing a few chorus lines of ‘Spinning Around’ by Kylie Minogue back at him, and Kit grins.

‘Don’t go giving up the day job.’

‘Too late,’ I reply, thinking of Mill House Stables. Kit, however, must assume that I’m still in joke mode, because he merely pulls a face.