13 APRIL 1991, Page 29

After the X-ray

If he had stayed in the four white walls or alone in his patch, the untidy hedge strewing its roses through empty hours he would never have met the dark mare whose neck he licked by the elderflower whose kick snapped his straight cannonbone.

For sixteen weeks he must stand in the straw watching the light wash and ebb. All warmth will have flowed past when he stumbles out, November's wind raw on his leg.

Was it worth it? He shuffles, he cranes to the lane, calls her, and calls her again.

Alison Brackenbury