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“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Still no.”

I let go of his arm and put both hands on my hips, fixing him with what I hope is my most intimidating teacher glare. “I’m not leaving until you say yes.”

“Then you’ll be here a long time.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got nowhere else to be.” I plonk myself back down and fold my arms.

Robbie holds out for nearly half a minute before letting out a resigned sigh and shaking his head. “Fine. One ride. But if I break something, it’s on you.”

I smile, victorious. “Deal!”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we’re at Bannock Stables. Janice waves from behind a wheelbarrow piled high with straw, then her mouth forms a perfect “o” when she catches sight of Robbie trailing behind me. Just like everyone else in Bannock, she’s no doubt heard about the arrest.

“Cat!” She schools her features. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Thought I’d introduce my friend to the joys of horse riding,” I reply cheerfully.

She shoots another glance at Robbie then, to my relief, smiles. Maybe the repair job he did on her fence has put him in her good graces. “Well, you know where everything is. Bracken’s free if you want her.”

“Perfect! And maybe Thor for Robbie?”

Robbie throws me a look. “Thor?”

I grin. “Don’t worry, he’s a gentle giant.”

We head to the tack room, where I grab my trusty helmet then peer at the shelves for something that might fit Robbie. I pluck a large one and plonk it on him, but it barely covers his ears. After a bit of rummaging, and coughing through a cloud of dust, I finally spot a gigantic one lurking right at the back. It looks like it hasn’t seen daylight for years. I brush off a few cobwebs and offer it to Robbie with a flourish.

“This should fit your massive noggin,” I tease.

He manages to wrestle it on, muttering that his head isn’t that big.

We head to the stalls, where Bracken is dozing contentedly. Three doors down, Thor is impossible to miss: his massive head pokes out over the stable door. He’s doing his best statue impression, the only giveaway the gentle twitch of one ear.

“Wait, that’s Thor?” Robbie says. “Christ almighty. That’s not a horse, that’s a double-decker bus on legs. Can’t I start with something smaller?”

“You’re six foot five, Robbie. If we tried putting you on Bracken, she’d lodge a health and safety complaint.” I pat Thor’s shoulder fondly. “Besides, this guy is as lazy as a Sunday morning. Perfect for a beginner.”

I demonstrate how to approach Thor then gesture for Robbie to give it a try. “Go on, hold your hand out flat so he can smell you.”

Robbie edges forwards with the same enthusiasm most folk save for tax returns or dental work. When Thor leans forwards to snuffle at his palm, Robbie stiffens, but he doesn’t bolt.

“You see? He likes you. Trust me, tough guy, if you can handle a motorcycle, you can handle Thor.”

After saddling both horses, I walk Robbie through the basics of mounting. “Take it step by step: reins in your left hand, foot in the stirrup, then swing your leg over, nice and smooth.”

Robbie huffs but manages it without major incident, though up on Thor, he looks about as relaxed as someone sitting on a time bomb.

“Piece of cake,” he deadpans. Even Thor seems unconvinced.

I show Robbie how to hold the reins, then I get up on Bracken and we set off round the paddock at a walk. Soon I notice Robbie shifting in the saddle like he’s sitting on a hedgehog.

“Is this supposed to be quite so sore on my balls?” he asks bluntly.