I held my breath ready for the explosion. But no explosion came

Darcy was obviously listening to every word I said. After we got back from the ride from hell, in which she threw the mother of all tantrums, she was very subdued. She stood in her box all afternoon looking sheepish, according to the groom.

‘We haven’t had a peep out of her,’ she said, when I arrived the next day. ‘She looked like she was in a state of shock.’ She was in a state of shock? Holy Moses. What about us?

My friend Karl, as I explained last week, had agreed to swap horses with me mid-hack when Darcy starting playing up. I’m not easily scared but instead of going forwards as we started to canter she began rocking on the spot, as if threatening to unleash the most tremendous buck.

I lost my nerve and Karl, who once worked in a racing yard, got up on Darcy while I mounted his steady hunter. No sooner had his rear end touched the saddle than Darcy erupted into the most acrobatic equine display I’ve ever seen. One minute she was rearing up like a Lipizzaner, the next broncing like she was at the San Antonio Stock Show & Rodeo. Then it was the 3.30 at Epsom and around the track she went at full pelt, throwing her legs out the back to make sure the hunter couldn’t get near her. Afterwards Karl was bleeding from the mouth where she had socked him in the face with her head.

But it got worse once Darcy was safely tucked up in her stable. Karl rang me that night and declared himself to be sore at both ends. I was mortified. If she had knocked teeth out I would have had to pay for veneers. Karl is a very handsome man with a lovely set of gnashers.