For a moment, neither of us says anything, Kit unwilling or unable to meet my eye. Even Tui is quiet, distracted by a bird that is hopping from branch to shrub behind us, its tiny head cocked to one side. There is barely any wind, and the only sound is the gentle tread of Keith’s hooves across the dry ground. It is so peaceful here, and so still. It should be soothing, but instead I feel stirred. Not for the first time, I wish that I was able to extract my emotions, take them out and examine them objectively. And what would I find, in amongst the hurt and the pain? There would be anger, shame and foreboding, but there would also be the murmur of something else – something less abrasive. I’m finding it hard to work out where one feeling ends and another begins, but maybe that is my problem. There are no single emotions inside me, just mashed-up scraps, left over from that initial outpouring of grief.

Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t see the rotting clump of nettles until I stumble right through it, almost slipping over in the process. It is the solid bulk of Keith that keeps me upright, and I lean unthinkingly against his warm flank for a moment. Horses and ponies, even relatively small ones like Keith, are such noble and powerful creatures. I can still remember the first time I went riding, how I felt a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, not just literally but figuratively, too. Nothing and nobody could hurt me up there, and I drew such strength from that feeling.

The path has grown so narrow now that Kit has no choice but to walk ahead, and before long we are heading down a small hill towards a glittering ribbon of water. The muddy earth is littered with white pebbles that crunch pleasantly underfoot, and Keith’s red-gold ears stand to excited attention as we arrive at the river’s edge.

‘Can I go in – please, please, please?’ Tui asks Kit, bouncing up and down in the saddle.

‘Only as far as the lead rope will stretch,’ he replies, giving Keith’s rump a gentle tap to encourage him forwards. The pony walks boldly into the shallows, lifting his hooves like a Lipizzaner and snorting with pleasure. Tui, who has now abandoned her reins completely, begins clapping her hands in delight as the pony lifts a front leg and begins splashing water all over her and himself.

‘Keeeeeeith,’ she croons, between her giggles. ‘You’re getting me all wet!’