I cherished those times, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take some pleasure from this one. Bonnie may not be Anna, but she is here, and she is willing to talk and to be honest with me. And what a place I am in, too. Even on its most glorious days, Cambridgeshire has no hope of competing with the awesome beauty of New Zealand, and today the sun seems to be shining even brighter than usual, just for us. Bonnie wrote in her story that she craved an escape from this place, but I cannot imagine ever feeling that way – even as a teenager. Maybe there was a deeper reason for her wanting to go?

This is just one of the questions I want to ask her – and will ask her – but I am waiting for the right time. Being here in New Zealand has reminded me of the importance of slowing down, and of allowing things to take place when they naturally should. My time with Anna may be over in one regard, but my memories of her are as far-reaching as the unblemished sweep of sky above the mountains – she will only ever be lost to me if I stop letting her in.

‘Thank you for agreeing to this.’ Bonnie throws a timid glance in my direction. She has pulled her long dark hair into a braid, the rest squashed under a skull cap, and rather than jodhpurs, she is dressed in a pair of grey leggings that are streaked with dirt, and a sweater bearing the logo of the Rolling Stones. The overall effect is thrown-together, slightly chaotic and charmingly reminiscent of Tui. Bonnie is up on a large bay called Brian today, while I have been permitted by Tui to ride her beloved Keith.

‘Just take good care of him, OK?’

I had promised that I would, although in truth, the robust little pony is doing a sterling job of looking after me. Despite my Grand National-style race through the undergrowth on Ekara two days ago, it still feels strange to be up on a horse again, and Keith seems to realise this. When Bonnie and I rode through the river a few minutes ago, he didn’t even stop to splash me with his front legs, which I know is his party trick.

‘That’s OK,’ I tell Bonnie, ducking to avoid an overhanging branch. ‘It feels good to be out – I was starting to get cabin fever in the apartment.’

After David and I had talked the other night, I had been so overwrought that I didn’t feel able to face the world – at least not for a while. I had shouted and raged at first, then cried yet more tears. I felt as if I had both lost and gained, and I am still struggling to make sense of how I feel about it all.