11

Standing there, in the middle of the paddock, considering the fact that I had no reception – no way to book in anywhere else, clinic or hostel, and also no way to contact Nassim at the very least to let him know I hadn’t vanished so he didn’t go off and file some sort of missing person’s report on me or something – I heard Hessel calling my name.

I looked around and saw him leading the most gorgeous bay horse out from the little wooden shed. He called again, ‘Anna, come and meet my other beautiful girl.’

The horse’s abdomen swung back and forth with her gait as Hessel slowly and gently led her across the paddock towards me. Her coat shone a rich rust colour, and her mane and tail and ankles were points of black. I realised with a thrill that the horse was pregnant – the large and swinging abdomen, the slow walk. When Hessel and the horse reached me, the intimate sound of her breathing, and the close twitching of her flesh, the noisy worrying of the bridle in her large mouth, filled me with a sense of wonder.

‘Wow,’ I breathed, and lifted a hand to touch the mare’s neck.

‘This is Europa Pearl,’ said Hessel. ‘But this is her race name, her breeding name. To us she is Polly. She’s my beautiful broodmare, aren’t you, Pol?’

The horse coughed her breath out of her nose and leaned her face into Hessel’s body in such a mute articulation of love and trust that I was moved by the sight of it, by the relationship between this horse and this man.

‘My beautiful girl, eh?’ he said. ‘Yeah, we look after you, but you’re getting a bit old for all this, aren’t you?’

‘How far has she got to go?’

‘Not two months. She’s getting to the pointy end. She’s bred champions, this one. But maybe now she is a bit long in the tooth for all this baby-making, huh, old girl?’

‘She’s just beautiful, Hessel.’ I lifted my hand again and Polly pressed her head into my body this time, her ears flicking my arm. ‘You said she was sick?’

‘Yes, she’s turned a bit colicky, poor old thing.’ As if on cue Polly gave a whinny that sounded like a moan and went down onto her front knees, knocking me sideways. Hessel drew on the lead rope but the horse was too strong. In a moment she was on her back, legs in the air, kicking and rolling. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa there!’ Hessel stood back and let the mare find her feet again. ‘Come on there, lady, you will do both yourself and your foal a mischief.’

‘Not to mention me,’ I said.

‘I’ve just taken her blanket off, so she is itchy, but she has pain too. I can see it here.’ He touched the mare’s brow gently with the palm of his hand, and she dipped her head into his touch. ‘The vet says colic and yes we can treat, but I worry. I am keeping a close eye. It is a dangerous thing, pregnancy.’