"Good morning," Ian Norland called to me as he came out of one of the stalls. "Still here, then?"

"Yes," I said. Surely, I thought, I hadn't implied anything to him the previous afternoon. "Why wouldn't I still be here?"

"No reason," he said, smiling. "Just…"

"Just what?" I asked with some determination.

"Just that Mrs. Kauri doesn't seem to like guests staying overnight. Most go home after dinner."

"This is my home," I said.

"Oh," he said. "I suppose it is."

He seemed slightly flustered, as if he had already said too much to the son of his employer. He was right. He had.

"And how is Pharmacist this morning?" I asked, half hoping for some more indiscretion.

"Fine," he said rather dismissively.

"How fine?" I persisted.

"He's a bit tired after yesterday," he said. "But otherwise, he's OK."

"No diarrhea?" I asked.

He gave me a look that I took to imply that he wished he hadn't mentioned anything about diarrhea to me yesterday.

"No," he said.

"Does he look well in his eyes?" I asked.

"Like I said, he's just tired." He picked up a bucket and began to fill it under a tap. "Sorry, I have to get on." It was my cue that the conversation was over.

"Yes, of course," I said. I started to walk on, but I stopped and turned around. "Which stall is Pharmacist in?"

"Mrs. Kauri wouldn't want anyone seeing him," Ian said. "Not just now."

"Why on earth not?" I said, sounding aggrieved.

"She just wouldn't," he repeated. "Mrs. Kauri doesn't like anyone snooping round the yard. Won't even allow the owners to see their own horses without her there to escort them."

"Nonsense," I said in my best voice-of-command. "I'm not just anyone, you know. I'm her son."

He wavered, and I thought he was about to tell me when he was saved by the arrival of his employer.

"Morning, Ian," my mother called, striding around the corner towards us. She had swapped the light-blue dressing gown and white slippers for a full-length waxed Barbour coat and green Wellington boots.

"Ah, morning, ma'am," Ian replied with some relief. "I was just talking to your son."

"So I see," she said in a disapproving tone. "Well, don't. You've talked to him too much already."

Ian blushed bright pink, and he stole a glance of displeasure at me.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said.

She nodded firmly at him as if to close the matter. Ian's rebuke may have been short, but I had the distinct impression that his indiscretion would be remembered for much longer. But for now she turned her attention to me. "And what are you doing out here, exactly?" she asked accusingly.

"I was just having a look round," I said as innocently as I could.

I was thirty-two years old and still a serving captain in Her Majesty's British Army. Until recently, I had been commanding a platoon of thirty men fighting and killing Her enemies with zest and gusto, but here I was feeling like a naughty ninth grader caught having a smoke behind the bike sheds by the school principal.

"Well, don't," she said to me in the same tone that she had used towards Ian.

"Why not?" I said belligerently. "Have you something to hide?"

Ian almost choked. It hadn't been the most tactful of comments, and I could see the irritation level rise in my mother's eyes. However, she managed to remain in control of her emotions. There were staff about.

One didn't fight with family in front of staff.

"Of course not," she said with a forced smile. "I just don't want anyone upsetting the horses."

I couldn't actually see how wandering around the stable blocks would upset the horses, but I decided not to say so.

"And how is Pharmacist this morning?" I asked her.

"I was on my way to see him right now," my mother replied, ignoring the implication in my voice. "Come on, Ian," she said, and set off briskly with him in tow.

"Good," I said, walking behind them. "I'll come with you."

My mother said nothing but simply increased her already break-neck pace, with Ian almost running behind her to keep up. Perhaps she thought that with my false foot, I wouldn't be able to. Maybe she was right.

I followed as quickly as I could along the line of stalls and through the corridor into the next stable rectangle. If my mother thought she could go fast enough so that I wouldn't see where she had gone, she was mistaken. I watched as she slid the bolts and went into a stall on the far side, almost pushing Ian through the gap and pulling the door shut behind them. As if that would make them unreachable. Even I knew that stable doors are bolted only from the outside. Perhaps I should lock them in and wait. Now, that would be fun.

Instead, I opened the top half of the door, leaned on the lower portion and looked in.

My mother was bent over, away from me, with her sizeable bottom facing the door. I did not take this as any particular gesture of disapproval, as she was simply running her hands down the backs of Pharmacist's legs, feeling for heat that would imply a soreness of the tendon. Ian was holding the horse's head-collar so that it couldn't move.

"Nothing," my mother said, standing up straight. "Not even a twinge."

"That must be good," I said.

"How would you know?" my mother said caustically.

"Surely it's good if there's no heat in his tendons," I said.

"Not really," she replied. "It means there must be another reason for him finishing so badly yesterday."

That's true, I thought.

"Does he look all right?" I asked.

"No, he's got two heads." My mother's attempts at humor rarely came off. "Of course he looks all right."

"Has he got diarrhea?" I asked.

Ian gave me a pained look.

"And why, pray, would he have diarrhea?" my mother asked haughtily, with strong accusation in her tone.

Ian stood quite still, looking at me. His jaw set as in stone.

"I just wondered," I said, letting him off this particular hook. "I know horses can't vomit, so I just wondered if he had a stomach upset that might show itself as diarrhea."

"Nonsense," my mother said. "Horses only get diarrhea with dirty or moldy feed, and we are very careful to keep our feed clean and fresh. Isn't that right, Ian?"

"Oh yes, ma'am," he said immediately.

I thought, perhaps unfairly, that Ian would have said "Yes, ma'am" to any request at that precise moment, even if she'd asked him to jump off the stable roof.

The inspection of Pharmacist was over, and my mother came out through the door followed by Ian, who slid home the door bolts.

Personally, if it had been my best horse that had inexplicably run so badly, I would have had a vet out here last night drawing blood and giving him the full once-over, testing his heart, his lungs and everything else, for that matter. Strangely, my mother seemed satisfied with a quick look and a cursory feel of his legs.

"How long before the dope-test results are out?" I said, somewhat unwisely.

"What dope test?" my mother asked sharply.

"The one that was ordered by the stewards."

"And how do you know they ordered a dope test?" she demanded.

"It says so in today's Racing Post."

"I told you not to read that paper," she said crossly.

"I don't always do what I'm told," I said.

"No," my mother said. "That's the problem. You never did."

She turned abruptly and strode away, leaving Ian and me standing alone.

"So what do you think?" I asked him.

"Don't involve me," he said. "I'm in enough trouble already."

He turned to walk away.

"But wouldn't you have had a vet in last night?" I said to his retreating back.

"I told you," he said over his shoulder without stopping, "don't involve me. I need this job."

I called after him, "You do realize there won't be a job if someone has been nobbling the horses. There won't be any jobs here. The yard will be closed down."