The second foal is a gorgeous little filly! This morning when I found the horses, quite near to Flamants Roses in a quiet field with a small grove of tamarisk trees, there was the mare with her new foal at foot. And most amazing of all, she was so proud of her new offspring, she came all the way up to me with her foal just so that she could show her off. I reached up from my sitting spot and patted the foal on the velvet of her nose. She was so soft, I felt my heart melt and then the foal, surprised at the affection of my touch, gave a little snort and bounced and frolicked about putting on a display for me that made smile long after the horses had gone.

The lead mare remains heavy in foal and her belly is enormous. I imagine she is quite exhausted with being pregnant. Each day I come to see her expecting her baby to be there at her feet.

In my bedroom tonight, I began to map out the ideas from my sketch book on to the big blank canvas. The painting is taking shape. I have a name for it now: Grignons de Camargue.

Chapter 13: The Black Bag

I haven’t left Claude’s side for three days straight. I’ve slept here on a camp bed that Alexandre brought in for me. Well, I say I have slept, but really I find it impossible to sleep. I worry that if I close my eyes when I wake Claude will have slipped away from me. His life still hangs by a thread. The vet came again yesterday and dressed the wounds and gave him more sedative and painkillers to make him comfortable. Alexandre says the vet wants to move Claude to the clinic so he can X-ray the leg and operate. He thinks the leg is broken and that, as I suspected, there could also be internal wounds. Alexandre says the Master of Horses has to approve the surgery. I’m not sure what the delay is, but Alexandre seems very uncertain about it all.

Marcel has not been back since this morning. I worry that when he returns it will be to take Claude from me. Until he does, I am glued to Claude’s side and all I do is paint and paint and paint.

When I lift the brush now, it’s as if I am possessed by a fever. I feel light-headed, hot-cheeked and my pulse pounds at my temples as I pour my heart out on to the canvas.