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He and I step outside a few minutes later, pulling on our thick gloves, hats and scarves.

‘There was rain last night, so it would be a good time to dig up the rooted trees,’ I say, hearing Paddy’s voice as I pass on the information to Horse. It’s like handing on a baton. ‘And we can label the trees, too. Different colours for different prices.’ I’m holding some ribbons that I found in my craft room and cut up to tie onto the tree trunks. I push them into my coat pocket and feel something in there: it’s Horse’s bandana, from the day I scratched my hand. I must have put it in here to give back to him after it went through the wash. I tuck my hand around it, feeling the softness of the cotton. We head across the yard.

Louie, Dewey and Huey are there, quacking with Gloria. She stretches above them, flapping her wings, as they follow us towards the forest. Horse holds the gate open for me, making me smile as we pass through and into the trees.

‘So once someone picks out a tree, we fell it for them and load it into their car,’ I tell Horse. ‘Then they take the ribbon from the tree to the payment table and pay accordingly.’

I pull out the ribbons from my pocket.

‘I’ll go round now and put coloured labels on the trees.’

As I go to label the first tree by height, Horse takes it from me and reaches over me, tying the ribbon securely. I can smell woodsmoke from the bonfire on his checked jacket and beneath that, another smell that’s just Horse himself. It’s a smell that I’m coming to like more and more. It smells a lot like home.

‘How about you tell me which coloured ribbon to tie, and I’ll do the tying?’ he says.

By early afternoon, ribbons are fluttering off countless trees in the forest and there are pots of trees, about as tall as Will, lined up by the black barn doors. It really makes the place look alive again – like it used to look but even brighter, with all the decorations in and around the barn.

I find Horse and Will in the kitchen, stripping off their aprons.

‘Ready to go?’ I say, looking at them both.

Will nods. He picks up a plastic box from the worktop.

‘I read the recipe to Horse,’ he says. ‘Well, a lot of it.’

‘You did brilliantly!’ says Horse, beaming and rubbing Will’s head, making his tousled hair stand up even more. I love his hair; it makes Will, Will.

‘It was Lara really,’ says Will kindly.

I bend down to look him in the eye.

‘Will, you learnt how to do it. You had already taught yourself how to read. It was just a matter of practising. I’m really proud of you.’

My voice cracks. I think of how terrified he must have been at the idea of going to that boarding school. Not only feeling like a fish out of water, but not confident reading or writing; relying only on the bag of tricks he’d developed to help him get by. I don’t think I could care about this boy more if I tried. I say care – it’s not just care. I’ve come to love everything about him, I realize. He has the biggest, kindest heart and such determination to learn and grow.

Only I can’t let myself love him. I have to hold something back. He won’t be with me forever, and I can’t let myself think he will be. I have to be content to just let him know how proud I am.

The care home is warm, like a huge hug, enveloping us against the cold November day outside.

‘Well, hello,’ says a cheerful voice behind us.

We turn around. It’s Nadiya.

‘Nadiya,’ says Horse. He looks surprised and pleased. ‘I didn’t expect to see you today.’

‘Well, I was off, like I told you, but someone was ill, so here I am,’ she says cheerfully.

‘Aren’t we the lucky ones,’ he says, and I can see a moment of fondness pass between the two of them.

‘Hi, Nadiya,’ I smile. ‘We all loved the curry you helped Will make.’

‘I’m delighted. I was going to make one and send it over with Horse, but he suggested I come over and show Will. It was a lovely afternoon, wasn’t it Will?’

Will nods happily. ‘I’m still using the tin that Ayesha gave me. I remember what you told me, about what each of the spices brings to the food.’

‘We’ve loved learning to cook more recipes,’ I tell her. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ she says. ‘I’m delighted to pass on my family recipes.’