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‘Ernie?’ Rick whistled and clucked his tongue in his best impression of donkey talk — he was not going to heehaw in front of Yvette! — and grinned when the little donkey stuck his head into the barn. ‘C’mere, boy. I’ve got someone who wants to meet you.’

Ernie, displaying typical donkey stubbornness, stomped his hooves and snorted loudly, but didn’t move any further.

‘C’mon, mate.’ Rick whistled again. ‘I’ve got an apple for a well-behaved donkey. Do you know any well-behaved, polite donkeys who might like an apple?’ He grinned when Ernie trotted happily towards him, his ears pricked forwards. ‘Here you go, mate.’ He handed the apple over, rubbing his fuzzy ears while Ernie chomped happily and messily.

‘It smells funny.’ Yvette wrinkled her perfect, purchased nose in distaste.

‘He probably thinks you smell pretty odd too,’ he replied without thinking.

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ She snapped, glaring at him.

‘Just that he probably hasn’t ever smelt couture perfume before,’ he tried to recover.

‘True enough round here.’ Yvette laughed. ‘And I bet they don’t even know what caviar crème is.’

Rick wasn’t sure that he knew what it was either, but so long as she was distracted and happy, he wasn’t going to argue. It was just easier for everyone that way. Instead he petted Ernie, scratching the bridge of his nose the way he liked best. Ernie whuffed at him, shuffling his feet and edging closer.

‘Hello, smelly donkey.’ Yvette stuck her hand on his mane then yanked away. ‘Ugh, he’s not very soft, is he? Maybe they need more conditioner.’

‘I don’t think they use conditioner.’

‘That’d be the problem then.’ Yvette rolled her eyes and looked around. After a few seconds of fiddling with Ernie, she turned and boosted herself onto the fence, her heels scrabbling against the floor. ‘Take some footage for me, babe.’ She shoved her phone at him, already attached to a mini-tripod.

Whatever made her happy. He stepped back and took a few stills while Yvette posed and pouted. ‘Ernie!’ He whistled and the little donkey turned to look at him. Perfect. ‘OK, reel in three, two, one . . .’ He was pretty sure Angela was watching them from across the yard, but he didn’t want to turn to look at her. He wasn’t at all sure how Angela would react to even more videos of Ernie — particularly ones not featuring him. He wasn’t worried about Ernie at all, not when the donkey so happily posed and showed off whenever he had a camera pointed at him.

At first, Rick had felt silly trying to explain things to Ernie — but after the success of the first video he’d felt like he owed the donkey that much. So he’d shown him some reels and some of the comments he’d gotten, politely asking if he’d liked to do more — in exchange for bellyfuls of carrots and apples and plenty of itches. He’d been worried trying to talk to the animal like he was human would make him feel like the ass, but Ernie had appeared to listen, before hamming it up on camera even more than before.

Yvette preened in front of the camera, hitting all her best angles like the pro she was. After a few more photos, Rick balanced the tripod at the right height, hit record and leaned back against the wall, watching.

She tossed her hair, flicking her extensions around. Irritated by the hair in his face, Ernie tossed his own head back and forth. Ignoring the donkey’s discomfort, Yvette wrapped her arm around his neck, squashing herself against him, her hair swinging back and forth across Ernie’s eyes and irritating his sensitive ears.

‘Yvette, maybe we should stop.’ He didn’t like the way Ernie was starting to shift back and forth, and the way he was rolling his eyes.

‘Why? This is brilliant.’

Ernie disagreed — tossing his head to shake off Yvette’s enforced affections — but because Yvette was who she was, and not good at taking hints, she automatically tightened her grip, ignoring Ernie’s grumbly huff.

‘Yvette, that’s enough.’ He didn’t get more than two steps forward before Ernie, agreeing with him, stepped firmly back. If Yvette hadn’t been balanced so precariously, or holding on so tightly, or if — for the first time in as long as he’d known her — she’d being paying attention to another being’s feelings, it might not have been so bad.

* * *

Angela jumped up at the squeal that echoed from the courtyard. The action sent shards of pain screaming up her leg, but she grabbed for her crutches and hobbled outside to see which animal was in pain. What she didn’t expect to find was a screeching blonde sitting in the donkey pen, howling and squealing while Ernie stomped and huffed, stuck in the corner between the fence and Yvette, his eyes rolling and sides heaving. Rick was between them, trying to calm the scared donkey while Yvette clawed at his legs.

‘Ernie!’ Angela sent an ear-piercing whistle across the courtyard, hoping it would cut through the racket and panic. Thankfully, Ernie at least had the sense to listen, his heavy grey head swinging to look at her, pleading in his eyes. ‘C’mon boy,’ she flung the crutches down and leaned against the fence, placing one hand along the side of his muzzle, pulling him towards her as she stroked up and down the bony length of his nose, making soothing noises. She really hoped it would work, because her balance was still dodgy — if Ernie pushed in the wrong direction, she’d probably end up on the floor, likely injuring herself further.

‘Sort her out, would you?’ She forced herself to keep her tone calm and even, despite feeling anything but. She knew she should have felt some level of sympathy for Yvette, but she was making a ridiculous fuss and — worse — she was terrifying one of Angela’s animals, and potentially undoing years of work.

She kept her whole focus on Ernie, petting and soothing and trying to reassure the terrified animal, while Rick tried to reason with his girlfriend, before giving up and manhandling her out of the pen, depositing her none-too-gently on the floor.

‘Is he all right?’

‘I think so.’ Angela coaxed the donkey closer to her, so she could run a soothing hand along his sweat-soaked withers. The poor little thing was shaking. ‘It’s just bad memories, isn’t it Ernie? You know you’re safe here, don’t you?’

‘You’re worried about him?’ Yvette screeched, breaking what seemed to be Ernie’s last nerve and sending him bolting out of the barn. As much as Angela wanted to run after him, she knew he’d be all right with his jennets, and it was more than likely that he’d had enough of people right now. Especially as Yvette clearly hadn’t finished her histrionics. She tried to find some sympathy for the woman who — despite being only a few years younger than Angela, according to her online profile at least — was behaving a lot like a child having a tantrum.

She clung to Rick, who had sunk to his knees, and sobbed against his shoulder, meaning Angela struggled to make out more than the odd word as she fumbled to pick up her crutches.

‘He didn’t mean to scare you,’ Rick soothed, stroking Yvette’s hair and trying to calm her.