The foal was curled up in the straw with her legs tucked in like a cat. She was looking back at them, her head up, although it was wobbling. Her ears weren’t as limp now, either. They were only at half-mast but that just made her look even more adorable.
Fi touched the foal’s face with gentle fingers. ‘She needs a name.’
‘What would you like to call her?’
‘Will she be able to go out in the olive grove with Marguerite and Coquelicot when she’s older? She’ll need role models so that she can learn she’s a donkey. Or will Alain want her back in his herd?’
Christophe’s lips tilted. ‘She’s your donkey now, Fiona, if you want her.’
Fi nodded. She had to clear the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Then she needs a flower name,’ she said. ‘A French flower name.’
‘I agree.’
Christophe reached to stroke the tiny donkey’s neck. Fi was rubbing the gorgeous ear with its black hair on the outside and long white fluff on the inside. Their hands brushed and Fi felt the electric current of the touch run up her arm and become a warmth that filled her chest.
‘Daisies and poppies are wildflowers, aren’t they?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘So we need a wildflower name. Which ones do you know?’
‘Ah…Bluet? I don’t know the name in English.’
Fi looked it up online on her phone. ‘It’s a cornflower.’ She tilted her head. ‘What else?’
‘Pissenlit?’
It was a dandelion, Fi discovered. She read more and then her jaw dropped. ‘It translates as pissing in the bed? It’s a diuretic?’
Christophe laughed. ‘Yes. Adiurétique. It makes you lose water.’
Fi was laughing too and the aftermath of the horrific scene in the forest was fading. ‘We’re sonotgoing to call herPissenlit.’
‘What aboutBouton d’or?Boutonis a button andoris the word for gold.’
Fi didn’t need to look for a translation. ‘That must be a buttercup. Oh… I love that. And a button is exactly what she is at the moment because she’s so little and cute.’
* * *
Despite the warmth of the late afternoon, they could see a shiver ripple Bouton’s body. Fi was coming back downstairs with a blanket when she saw Ellie out on the terrace. She opened the French doors for her.
‘Cou cou, Christophe.’ If Ellie thought there was any significance in finding him alone in La Maisonette with Fi, she hid it well. Or perhaps she was totally distracted by what else she could see.
‘Aww… is that a babydonkey?’
‘Her name is Bouton,’ Fi said. ‘Short for Buttercup.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Just a few hours, I think,’ Christophe said. ‘Her mother was killed by asanglier.’
‘We’re going to bottle-feed her,’ Fi added. ‘She can live with Marguerite and Coquelicot when she’s a little older. If that’s okay with you?’
‘Of course it is.’ Ellie was crouched beside the straw nest, stroking Bouton’s head. The baby was lying flat again but her eyes were bright and she didn’t seem to mind the amount of attention she was getting.
‘Do you want some nappies to put on her while she’s inside?’
‘That’s a great idea. It’ll make the straw stay clean for much longer. We’ll just need to cut a hole for her tail.’
