‘You’ll have to ask Bonnie to be sure,’ he says. ‘But I know she has mild dyspraxia, some physical disabilities and a communication disorder – and that’s not all,’ he continues. ‘She has a complicated range of learning difficulties, too, you see, but nothing concrete enough for a solid diagnosis. The thing is,’ he adds, still not looking at me, ‘Tui is smart in many ways. She can tell you the name of every single flower, plant and bird in New Zealand, but then she can’t be trusted to cross the road by herself.’

‘Right,’ I say, not really understanding.

‘I like to think of her mind as a sponge,’ he explains, cupping his hands together. ‘Most of the knowledge that goes in is absorbed, but there are holes, and so other bits go straight through. Tui was put on a pony before she could walk, but she still can’t remember to keep her heels down, or how to hold her reins properly. But when it comes to directions, she’s better than a satnav. It must be so frustrating for her, but she rarely ever complains. She just gets on with it as best she can, you know?’

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My feelings towards Tui are far too messy for me to articulate, even to myself. I do feel sympathy towards her, but there is also a trace amount of jealousy there. It’s a hateful thing to admit, but there it is, as solid and undeniable as the mountains I can see beyond the boundaries of the yard.

Kit has stopped talking, too, and the two of us watch on in silence as Tui skips around the mounting block, her cheeks pink with exertion and Beavis yapping at her heels. There’s a thud as somewhere a horse kicks over its water bucket, and from behind the closed door of the office, the telephone begins to ring.

Kit puts a brief hand on my arm.

‘I’d better get that,’ he says. ‘But when I get back, how about you, me and Tui take a walk?’

What I should do is head back to Queenstown and let him get on with his day, but I’m aware of the fact that my time with Tui could be limited. There is a strong chance that these precious encounters will come to an abrupt end the moment Bonnie returns from England, and suddenly I know that all I want is to be here; I want to spend more time with my sister.

Reaching down, I twist Anna’s jade-stone ring around on my finger, torn between the ‘should’ and the ‘could’, and then I think of David, and of those four little words he’s been saying to me since I was a child.

What would Evangeline do?

I know what that Evangeline would do, and for once, I am happy to follow her lead.

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