Kit, Tui and I leave the stables and head along the same path that Allie and her group of tourists took, following a stony lane past several paddocks of grazing horses before banking left through a gap in the treeline. Tui is up on Keith the handsome chestnut’s back again, her face a mask of concentration and her hands balled into fists on the reins.

Kit, who has attached a lead rope to Keith’s bit, is strolling along on the pony’s near side, while I keep to the right. It feels safer with Tui positioned between the two of us, just in case something were to go awry. However, I do have to keep reminding myself that Suki was a flighty, spooky mare, liable to jump at her own shadow, whereas Keith is very much a riding-school plodder. Tui is probably safer up in his saddle than she would be walking next to him.

‘Don’t worry,’ says Kit, as he clocks my somewhat apprehensive expression. ‘He’s as soft as anything, this one – wouldn’t hurt a flea.’

He must assume that I am scared of Keith, rather than simply concerned about Tui.

‘I’m sure he is,’ I say quickly. ‘I just haven’t been around horses in a while, that’s all.’

‘So, you used to ride?’ he guesses, and I think for a moment before replying.

‘Yes … once upon a time.’

‘Let me guess,’ he says. ‘You had a fall?’

I shake my head, but Kit continues regardless.

‘You should get back in the saddle,’ he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. ‘That’s what you’re supposed to do when you fall off – isn’t it?’

‘That’s what they say.’

If he can tell that I’m answering him through gritted teeth, Kit doesn’t show it. Stripping a nearby twig of its leaves, he sprinkles them on to the ground.

‘I don’t ride myself,’ he adds. ‘Never found a horse big enough for starters.’

He laughs as I pull a face at him.

‘I’m king of the odd jobs,’ he continues. ‘I don’t think Bon has ever given me an official job title, but I like to think of myself as the yard manager. I would argue that you don’t need to get on a horse’s back to understand it, just like you don’t need to ride a dog to be its best mate.’

‘Merlin is a good boy,’ pipes up Tui. ‘I rode on him when I was a baby and very small.’

‘My feet would touch the floor if I sat on him,’ I point out, and Tui chirps with amusement. Looking up, I notice that her hard hat has slipped down over her eyes.

‘Here.’ I beckon her downwards until her nose is beside her knee, then reach up and readjust her cap.