Outside, the sun is steadily climbing, but I’m gratified to see that there are at least a few clouds jostling for position across the sky. The minibus has appeared along with Kit, and is parked in the shade of a large tree not far from the outdoor schooling area. A new group of tourists is lined up behind a makeshift fence, each one looking rather out of place in their brightly coloured leggings and borrowed riding hats. Turning so that the sun is behind me, I spot Tui perched up on the highest step of the mounting block, holding a stick up in the air and bellowing with deep, throaty laughter as Beavis tries unsuccessfully to reach it. When she catches sight of me, however, she leaps down, almost falling in her haste to cross the yard, and throws both her arms around my neck.

‘Gee-nie!’ she croons delightedly into my ear, before bringing up a hand to stroke the side of my face.

Taken aback, I find that I have absolutely no words, settling instead for a smile.

‘Stop groping the guests,’ remarks Kit, who is passing with another two saddles.

Tui removes her hand from my cheek, but she doesn’t stop staring at me.

‘Hello again,’ I say, putting a somewhat rigid hand on her arm. ‘How are you feeling after your ride?’

‘Great,’ she says, then begins to hum quietly.

‘It’s very nice to see you again,’ I add, thinking as I do how much I genuinely mean it. Tui doesn’t say anything, but she nods in agreement, then slides one of her hands into mine. Her skin is as soft as a baby’s and clammy to the touch.

‘Gee-nie,’ she says again, almost in wonderment, and I grasp around for something to say.

‘Do you know the names of all these horses?’ I ask, nodding towards the stalls, and again she nods.

‘Mm-hm.’

‘Will you tell me them?’

Tui considers this for a moment.

‘Maybe later, Genie,’ she says, swinging my arm backwards and forwards with a giggle.

‘I bet they all have nice names,’ I continue, trying another approach.

Tui hums again, but this time I can sense her irritation and worry that I may have pushed her too far. Yet again, it is a nearby Kit who comes to my rescue.

‘Why don’t you give Genie a tour of the yard?’ he suggests, as he tightens the girth of a large bay horse with a white blaze across its face. ‘You can show her all your favourite ponies.’

This seems to do the trick.

‘Jeez, Kit. All right, all right. Jeez,’ Tui complains, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated fashion before dragging me by the hand over to a row of stables.

‘Merlin,’ she calls sweetly over the first half-door, her hand still tightly gripped in mine. ‘Merlin, baby.’

A very small and very fat white pony bustles importantly over from his hay net.