Anger, impatience, fear . . . virtually any human emotion undermines effective communication with a horse.’ Xenophon, On Horsemanship Despite the rain, she was already outside the office, awkward in her smart suit and heels, pacing the pavement with small, impatient steps. As soon as she saw his car, she ran to it, briefcase and handbag thrust under her arm. He felt relieved: there was still some part of Natasha that he understood. He smiled as he leant over to open the passenger door, and she climbed in, disregarding the horns sounding from the traffic behind them. ‘I thought you—’ ‘Don’t say anything,’ she interrupted, jaw set, hair slick with rain. ‘And as soon as we’ve found her you and I don’t have to deal with each other again. Okay?’ Mac’s smile died on his lips. He had been about to pull into the stream of traffic, but he paused. ‘Thanks, Mac, for swinging all the way across town to pick me up.’ ‘You want me to thank you? Okay. Thanks, Mac. Can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this little outing.
