‘Duchess?’ Lips pulled straight again. Eyebrows raised. Eyes still smiling.
‘Yes, how is she?’ He turned to the box where the grey cob stood watching them and took a few paces towards her. ‘This is her, right?’
She was following him. He could hear the clatter of the stick on the concrete. ‘This is Duchess,’ she confirmed. ‘None the worse for her adventure at the weekend. Which I haven’t mentioned to anyone here, by the way.’
‘My lips are sealed. How does she feel about Polo mints?’
She was standing at his side now, inches away. ‘She’ll bite your hand off,’ she said.
Harry felt in his pocket again and brought out the thin green tube that he’d also bought at the market. In her box, Duchess whickered at him. Two boxes further down a horse began kicking against its door.
‘You’ve done it now,’ said Evi. ‘Horses can smell Polo mints through the wrapper. And they recognize the paper.’
‘At least someone’s pleased to see me,’ said Harry, unwrapping the tube and holding out the flat of his hand to Duchess. A split-second later the mint had been replaced by a good dollop of horse slobber. Now what, exactly, was he supposed to do with that? Wiping it down his jeans was not going to look good.
‘I should sit down,’ said Evi. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Of course,’ said Harry, wiggling his fingers to dry them off. ‘Do you need any help?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I just can’t stand up for any length of time.’ She moved the stick and set off across the yard, back to the walnut tree, under which a few plastic chairs were scattered. Harry followed close behind and held a chair-back steady while she lowered herself. He pulled up a second chair and sat beside her. Duchess’s drool was starting to dry on his hand.
In the manège in front of them a rider was schooling a young horse, the same colour as Duchess but altogether finer of build. The school was surrounded by a beech hedge and the leaves were already starting to turn the soft golden-brown of newly minted coins.
‘Beautiful evening,’ said Harry, watching the setting sun bounce off the beech hedge and throw gold reflections on to the horse’s coat. It looked like it was wearing chain-mail.
‘How did you know I was here?’ asked Evi.
‘I’ve been coming every night on the off-chance,’ replied Harry. The horse almost seemed to be trotting on the spot, its head tucked down so that its nose was pointing at the ground. Foam was gathering around its mouth. ‘Is that horse a thoroughbred?’ he asked.
‘He’s from Ireland,’ said Evi. ‘Quite beautiful, but far too young and skittish for me to be allowed anywhere near. And seriously?’
She was looking at him now, not at the beautiful young horse. Her eyes were as blue as he remembered. ‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘I phoned the yard on Monday and asked to speak to Dr Oliver. I insisted Monday was the night you came. I mentioned Duchess and asked how she was recovering from her bruised foot and said it was really important I talk to you and were they sure you weren’t there because I was certain you’d said Monday. After a few minutes of this, they looked you up in the book and told me that Dr Oliver, also known as Evi, rides on Thursdays, Saturdays and sometimes Sundays.’
Evi turned back to the manège. She had the most perfect profile. Forehead just the right length, small, straight nose, full lips, plump chin. ‘That’s very devious behavior for a man of God,’ she said at last.
Harry laughed. ‘You’ve obviously never heard of the Jesuits. Would it be inappropriate to ask you out for a drink?’
Clearly it would, because she wasn’t smiling any more. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘If you have a husband or long-term boyfriend or you just can’t stand men with ginger hair then obviously I’m completely out of order and I’ll – well, maybe Duchess is free on Friday night. I’ll go and see.’
He half stood. He’d misjudged the entire situation and now he had to make as dignified an exit as possible.
She put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m on very strong painkillers,’ she said. ‘All the time. I’m not supposed to drink alcohol.’
Somehow, that didn’t feel like an out-and-out no. ‘Well, that’s fine because I’m a man of the cloth,’ he said, sitting down again. ‘We’re not allowed to get wasted every night, so you’d