Page 25 of The Magic of Provence

He liked the way she treated the animals and he could see the trust she was earning with her gentle but confident manner. Heidi had liked her instantly, as well, and that said a lot about what Fi was like as a person. Animals could sense far more than most humans. He really liked the care she was taking to get each hoof shaped as perfectly as possible, too, and he knew that wasn’t always easy. Some of these forest donkeys had been rescued from unfortunate situations to join the herds, and in some cases the lack of attention to their feet had left their hooves in very poor condition, but he’d never seen anything as bad as he did when he got close enough to the new arrival in the herd, a halter in his hand, and could see the gelding’s feet. Those hooves curled up like an exaggerated pair of Aladdin’s slippers. Was this why the little donkey was standing so still away from the group? Was it too hard for him to walk at all? Where would you even start to try and fix them?

‘Fiona?’ he called softly. ‘Could you come here, please?’

She was just as horrified as he was when she saw the state of this donkey’s feet.

‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. ‘You poor wee thing…’ She reached out to touch the donkey but it shied and then stumbled to try and avoid her hand.

The donkey tried to avoid Christophe as well, but the stony ground made it lose balance and it was Christophe’s body that prevented a possible fall. He wrapped his arms around the neck to support the animal.

‘Piano…piano…’ he murmured. ‘Doucement… we are not going to hurt you,caro…’

He kept talking, just holding the frightened animal, his heart breaking a little to think of what might have happened in the past to create fear like this. When he looked up, he wasn’t surprised to see Fi blinking as if she was trying not to shed tears. Just a heartbeat of eye contact was enough for that connection to feel very real. She had a big heart, this woman. She was capable of caring –loving– without limits.

Too much? Had she – like he had himself – given far too much, to the wrong person, perhaps, and been badly hurt?

Some things, once they were broken, could never be the same again, could they?

Like trust.

And hearts.

Was that why she was afraid? Hiding?

He could feel the donkey leaning harder against him now. As if it was letting out a sigh of relief because it knew that it didn’t need to be scared.

Christophe caught Fi’s gaze again. ‘Can you help him?’ he asked softly.

‘Aye,’ she said. ‘If he’ll let me.’

She came closer. Slowly. They took their time reassuring the donkey, who calmed down enough to stay still as Christophe put the halter on. He didn’t tie him to a tree. He would hold the lead rope himself, he decided. That way, perhaps the donkey would be able to feel the reassurance that they were both here to help him.

For more than an hour he watched a masterclass in hoof shaping. With the donkey standing on the ground, the first tool Fi used was a pair of large nippers to cut off the bulk of the curled, excess hoof.

‘How long do you think it’s been since someone looked after him?’ Christophe asked.

‘Too long.’ Fi’s tone was grim. She was out of breath and stood up only to stretch her back and wipe perspiration from her face. ‘I would guess more than two years. How old do you think he is?’

‘I’ll look at his teeth later but he seems quite old. And he knows you’re helping him, so he must have been cared for at some point in his life. He would never be this calm, otherwise.’

Fi picked up each leg and used a knife to peel and shape the underside of the hoof and then she studied the way it sat on the ground.

‘It will take a long time to look normal,’ she told Christophe. ‘Months and months. They might never be perfect but I want to get the pressure of the weight in the right place so it will start to grow properly – down and not straight out.’

She used the nippers again to adjust the shape and then finished with a rasp.

By the time all four hooves were done, he could see that Fi was hot and tired. He suspected her back was aching badly as well.

‘We are going to take a break now,’ he announced. ‘It’s time for lunch.’

He led Fi away from the donkey enclosure because he knew that nearby there was a clearing with a rustic wooden picnic table with benches attached.

‘It’s a place for the hunters,’ he told her. ‘They come together to share food and wine.’ He shook his head. ‘And then they go hunting again.’

‘Withguns? In this forest?’

‘Oui. Not now – the hunting season is finished until September, but they hunt thesangliers. Look… you can see the damage the pigs can do. They’ve been here, looking for acorns and tree roots to eat.’ He pointed out a large section of the forest floor, just off the wide track, that was ploughed up into a mess of soil, rocks and broken branches.

‘It looks like someone’s been digging with a pickaxe.’

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