He turned his head away to inspect the reed beds on our right from where I could hear the high-pitched jeet of a yellow wagtail. I wanted him to look back at me. I wanted him to say – yes, I can see that the United States Air Force has messed up your life right now, though it’s all for the good of France, and in return you can ask me any questions you like and I’ll answer them to the best of my ability, as well as arranging an open day for visitors to the Dumoulin Air Base. That’s what I wanted him to say.

But it doesn’t work like that.

‘That’s a lot of reeds,’ he commented. ‘Are they ever harvested?’

‘Yes, it’s called sagne. We grow it throughout the region for thatching, mainly on the old traditional cottages that some of the gardians still live in. There is a disused one a couple of kilometres away. Come on, I’ll show you.’

I pushed Achille into a canter. I wanted this American to understand the kind of life we lead here, to feel connected to our community. So that he would fight for us.

*

The motorcycle screamed past us. Ripping up the dirt road. Shattering the stillness. A terrifying blast of sound that sent both horses into a blind panic, and it took all our skill to stop them bolting. I hated it. To see the animals spooked. To smell their fear. Their ears back, eyes rolling, muscles taut, adrenaline pumping. A horse is a prey animal and its instinct is to flee. I steered Achille round in a tight circle on one rein to keep control, but Tonnerre was stronger and gave Joel a hard time, fighting to throw his head. By the time we had them calmed down, still huffing heavily, the motorcycle had roared into the distance, vanishing from sight.

‘Crazy son-of-a-bitch bastard!’ Joel shouted into the cloud of dust that hung like smoke in the motorcycle’s wake. ‘He could have killed the horses or us if they’d bolted. Did you get a look at him?’

I soothed Achille’s neck. ‘No, the bike was past before I saw it coming. A flash of black. Maybe a flying helmet. I don’t know for sure.’

‘Crazy loon! I thought people round here knew better when it comes to animals.’

‘They do,’ I insisted. ‘That idiot was not a local man.’

‘Let’s hope he breaks his infernal neck.’

I edged Achille up close to Tonnerre to reassure and calm the stallion and felt like doing exactly the same with my military friend.

‘Joel, relax. After you’ve seen the thatched cottage we’ll ride over to the lagoon to take a look at the flamingos. They are breathtaking.’

I had been keeping an eye on the horses, checking their jitters, so didn’t see that Joel was smiling at me until I glanced up.