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down with heavy rainfall. Sheltering under the jutted-out roof of the office, Jeannie and I stood with our backs to the wall, trying to shield ourselves from the rain while we waited for Tom to reappear after lunch.
    â€˜Those ballet shoes would have been ruined in no time in this weather.’
    â€˜How did you know my shoe size for the wellington boots?’ I asked, intrigued.
    â€˜That would be a very good guess on my part. Many moons ago I worked a Saturday job in the local shoe shop. I could spot a pair of size-six feet anywhere – oh and the fact you looked about the same size as me, so I brought you a pair from home.’ She grinned.
    We heard the door of the cottage slam and saw Tom hurrying over towards us. Pulling his raincoat over his head, he was trying to keep the drenching to a minimum whilst splashing through the puddles that had quickly appeared on the ground.
    â€˜OK, which one of you pair has been singing this lunchtime?’
    â€˜Ha ha, not me, I’m tone-deaf and I wouldn’t subject anyone to my appalling voice, not even myself,’ I replied.
    â€˜Must be you then, Jeannie,’ he said, laughing.
    Just at that moment, we saw a flash of lightning strike across the dense black clouds, and we all froze to the spot. A boom rolled out across the valley and the trees began to sway in the strengthening gust. The rain became even heavier, sounding like bullets firing onto the roofs of the barns. Another jagged bolt of white split across the sky again; this time the clap of thunder was only a few seconds behind.
    â€˜Jeannie, can you return to barn two and start preparing the egg orders that are due for delivery in the morning and remember to take the trays from the back. The orders for tomorrow are pinned on the main board in the office. Also, separate any eggs that are over three days old, pile them up and I can take them to market.’
    â€˜No problem.’ Jeannie was off straightaway, making a run for barn two.
    â€˜You come with me, Kit.’
    There he was calling me Kit again. My heart began to flutter and my cheeks flushed instantly. Hoping it wasn’t obvious, I enquired what our mission was for this afternoon.
    â€˜Mission Conker.’
    â€˜Mission Conker, what does that entail?’
    â€˜We’re going to run in the rain and rescue Conker from the field. He’s aging fast now, and even though he’s a hardy Shetland, I removed his rug yesterday, and I don’t like the thought of him enduring these weather conditions. He’ll be getting drenched in this downpour. We can stable him until the storm passes over. Are you ready to make a run for it?’ Tom asked.
    â€˜Ready as I’ll ever be.’
    Tom took off up the yard but not before grabbing my hand, his firm grip pulling my flailing legs behind him. Halfway up the path it separated into two. I could make out a black shadow sheltering under the skeleton-like branches of an old oak tree in the field to the right of the path.
    The huge drops of water were attacking my body and my clothes were sodden. Focussing on the stable ahead, my wellingtons pounded heavily across the ground, causing the mud to splash up the legs of my overalls. Almost instantly the torrential rain turned the ground to mud, making it slippery, but Tom kept a strong hold of my hand to stop me from sliding.
    Finally arriving at the wooden stable, Tom let go of my hand and unbolted the door. Hanging from the hooks inside the stable were all types of pony paraphernalia: a head collar, reins and a saddle. He grabbed the head collar just as another clap of thunder sounded. I squealed, clutching Tom in panic. He smiled down at me, holding my gaze for a split second. All of a sudden I felt very coy, until I looked away.
    â€˜Gosh, that was a loud clatter. It’ll pass shortly,’ Tom said and he headed off straightaway.
    I watched Tom stride into the field and lead Conker out of the storm; they began trotting