In the silence after she is gone, I feel my heart pounding. My pulse is racing again and I begin to paint, as if working the brush against the canvas is the only way to strip the fever from my body. While I paint, I listen to Claude’s breathing and how it has become so laboured, it is as if each breath is a struggle, a slow, final gasp. I fear the hesitation between breaths, but then I hate the sound of it too – it is filled with his pain.

I’ve been painting non-stop for hours now and I’m totally spent. I have no strength left in my arms. But it doesn’t matter because the work is finished at last. I put my brushes down and stagger back and stare at it dumbfounded with exhaustion. And then it seems as if I have finished just in time because the door opens and Alexandre is there, and the vet is there too and he carries with him a black surgical bag like a doctor would use.

“Maisie,” Alexandre says. “We need to talk.”

His words hang like the blade of a guillotine. I can feel the air in the room around me turning cold.

“What’s in the bag? What are you doing to him?” I say to him.

At this moment the vet begins to speak to Alexandre in French and I don’t understand a word of it and then Alexandre snaps back at him, also in French.

“What’s he saying?” I ask Alexandre. “What’s going on? Tell me!”

“He says the leg is very likely broken,” he admits. “And there are internal injuries too and Claude is very hard to manage. And surgery is very expensive and seldom succeeds. The horse may never be ridden again.”

“I know all of this,” I say. “I’ve heard it before. But what else is he saying to you?”

“The vet has discussed Claude’s situation with the Maître de Chevalier – the Horse Master here at the Garde. The Horse Master’s job is to manage the Garde républicaine, and he says we are not in the business of rehabilitating injured horses, especially ones that have no chance of returning to full duties ever again,” Alexandre says. “The Horse Master says that to keep Claude alive now is both inhumane and a waste of resources. If Claude cannot return to active duty as a ridden member of the Garde then it is the Horse Master’s opinion that he should be euthanised.”

My head is pounding. My heart thumps so hard in my chest, I can feel it inside me like it’s fighting to get out.

“Murdered?” My voice is shaking.

“Not murdered. Put down. Maisie, it is the humane thing to do,” Alexandre replies.

“Do you really believe that?” I say, with undisguised fury in my voice.