“I liked it too, sweetheart. It was a lovely tractor.”

Sorrel smiles, choosing a yellow crayon for the buttercups.

“He had some other toys too, but I can’t remember them. What did we call his little teddy with the vest, for instance?”

“Sparkly Teddy. Honestly, Mummy.”

Eve presses her palms to her eyes; she mustn’t cry either. “I know. Silly me. How could I have forgotten that? It must be this place.”

This place. The green branches stir like great flags above them; a group of ponies graze in the next field. There are thrushes on the lawn. A place where Sorrel’s memories can seep back safely. Across the grass Melly is playing tennis with Izzy, Poppy and Blake on the other side of the net. Charley is being ball boy. The children call out the score and make swooping runs to the ball, often missing. The white lines have disappeared into the grass, the net is full of holes.

“Anything else, darling?”

“Anything else what?” Sorrel’s china-blue eyes study hers seriously. There was a time when she’d imagined them closed and covered over with earth.

“Anything else about Ash’s toys?” She shouldn’t ask but she can’t help it.

Sorrel frowns and goes back to drawing; she’s started a house now: a red block with a path, a brown door, symmetrical windows.

Eve texts Eric. Sorrel remembered Ash’s tractor and Sparkly Teddy. Out of the blue.

Go carefully, he texts back.

Eve sighs. At least Melly will celebrate. “Let’s go and see what the others are doing.”

She takes Sorrel’s hand and they walk across the lawn. Melly puts down her racket and walks toward them, she is barefoot too. Charley and Poppy collapse gracefully onto the grass, arms and legs spread wide. Izzy is leaning over the fence, feeding grass to a pony on the other side, her hand tightly cupping his muzzle. Blake begins to practice his serve and Izzy pulls up clumps of grass by the edge of the court where it grows dark green under the shelter of an overhanging apple tree. The smell of sun-warmed net mixes with the sharp ammonia smell of the ponies. Sorrel is lagging behind, staring at Izzy as if transfixed.

“Sorrel remembered Ash’s tractor,” Eve tells Melly, becoming conscious that Izzy’s head is now inclined toward them, her body tensed; she seems to be listening. Eve stops talking; she doesn’t want Izzy to start asking Sorrel lots of questions.

“That’s wonderful.” Melissa’s eyes are shining.

“Let’s play hide-and-seek,” Izzy announces suddenly. “Sorrel, you can have a head start. There’s lots of hiding places in the house.” She covers her eyes and starts to count. “One, two, three . . .”

“I’m too sleepy,” Charley murmurs from the lawn. “It’s so hot.”

“Me too.” Poppy sighs. “I can’t be bothered to move.”

“Four, five, six,” Izzy continues.

Sorrel’s anguished scream catches them all off guard. She begins to run away across the lawn toward the house.

“Wait, Sorrel. It’s only a game.” Eve begins to hurry after her, but Sorrel has a head start and is running fast. She is wearing sandals and her feet crunch rapidly over the gravel drive.