It took me half an hour to get home, leading Bridie and supporting Loki with my other arm. There were bruises forming down his back where his very loose t-shirt had slipped down. I wondered who had whacked him about like that and felt a flash of anger. I'd seen horses with similar marks – they were always uncalled for.

I was cross anyway, more with myself than with my mysterious charge. I don't let people into my home. I make clients coffee in the 'Yardhouse' (my name for the side nearest the house, containing the tack room, feed room and my office). And for the first time, I was apprehensive when the red-brick buildings came into view over the hill, contrasted against the deep blue of the sea, lightened at the shore by springtime haze.

Home. East Cliff Farm.

My sister Edina and I were often banished here during the summer, usually with mother and our aunt. Edina's older than me and spent more time with my stiff-upper-lip aunt and our mother than I did. So when it passed to me, I made my farm – my farm. My haven, me and my horses.

And now it was me, my horses and a stranger I had pulled out of a ditch.

(He's not staying. All I have to do is call the police and report him found. After that, he's not my issue any more.)

I deposited Loki in the Yardhouse, the only place on the yard with seating (I sure as hell wasn't leaving him alone in the house, thank you) while I untacked Bridie and apologised for the short outing. She snorted into my hand, showing no hard feelings.

The yard is built in a rectangle with two wide archways instead of a wall at the south end, which looks out over the sea. It's red brick with traditional half-doors, a window, and a rug rail for each stable. Most stables stand empty, sad and cold. I could easily fill them all. I have a reputation with horses, one I've worked hard for. However, it's only me, so I have to keep the numbers down and keep to some kind of schedule, or I'd never sleep.

My thoughts turned again to Loki as I walked Bridie out to her field. I was breaking every rule in the book for him, and I knew nothing about him. He knew nothing about him. Perhaps he'd been in an accident, whacked over the head, and had wandered until…I dismissed that thought. We were well off the road, away from civilisation and he was barefoot. Anyway, all the drivers around here would stop (unless it was tourist season and a complete stranger had hit him while driving their bloody great cars too fast. But that's weeks away.)

Unless he really had fallen out of the sky, but that was impossible. He would have been killed.

Distractedly I opened the gate and let Bridie out of her headcollar. She nipped at my pockets, looking for treats – finding none, she trotted away towards Hatty in the next field, a fleabitten grey with a sweet nature and a lethal bucking problem. I barely noticed her go, only snapping out of my trance when I got zapped by the electric fence.

(That's worrying) I mused, sucking my tingly fingers as I walked back to the yard. I'd never paid less attention to my horses in my life. And all because of some strange man with a stranger name.

That same strange man was leaning against my desk flipping through one of my Monty Roberts books when I returned to the office.

"Don't touch my things, it's rude," I said sharply.

He looked at me, green eyes contrite. "My apologies," he said, sliding the book back into place. "I was…curious."

"Ask next time you get curious."

We fell into an awkward silence.

I have conversations with clients about horses and the grocers in the village for measurements of fruit and veg. I don't entertain friends because I don't have any. I didn't know what to say.

I live alone. Loki can't stay here.

He was now reading one of my business cards. "N – i – a – m – h…this is how you spell your name?"

"Yes. It's Irish Gaelic, I think. Means 'radiance' or something."

"And yet you say, 'Neave'?"

"The pronunciation? Oh, I don't know, I've never given it much thought. 'What's in a name?'"

"What does that mean?"

(He's doing a really good job of getting rid of the public schoolboy image.) "Like…it's…your name doesn't define who you are…or something. What's with the twenty flippin' questions anyway?"

"I have many more than twenty questions."

This was starting to get on my nerves. "You've lost your memory, not your brain," I snapped. "Speaking of which, have you remembered where you come from yet?"

Loki's face fell a little, but for a change, the answer wasn't 'I don't know.' "I've been thinking. I believe it is a long way away."

"Are we talking Edinburg long distance or Canada long distance?"

He smiled wanly. "Further."

"Do you have family there?" (Please say yes…)

"I can recall…a mother and father. And…a brother."

"So how far is further?"

Loki's face clouded. "I think…no, it sounds like madness, even to me."

"You're talking to the woman known locally to kids as 'The Batty Horse Lady.' Try me"

"I think we're talking different world long distance."

(Men in Black territory.) I was silent.

"I said it was madness."

"You'd be right."

"But think." He crossed the small room and sat beside me on the sofa. I had to remind myself he'd been closer to me than this when I tensed. "You've said yourself, we're miles from civilisation and you found me in a ditch. You use words that I don't understand. And you are right – my memories have been taken, not my mind."

All of which was true (but other planets?)

"I remember a city. A city of golden spires and silver trim. Not a city, I think, you'd find here. Also your reaction to my name…I don't think 'Loki' is much used on this world for naming offspring."

"Not in this country certainly," I murmured. (Maybe, maybe he has a point…no, it can't be…)

But what had I been thinking about him falling out of the sky? And the bruises on his back from a hard impact…

It occurred to me that I was in over my head. I tucked a stray strand of fringe behind my ear. This was a whole new level of weirdness.

"This is…look, I need coffee, and you need a shower and to put some shoes on."

And for the first time in about five years, I let a stranger into my house.

I deposited Loki in the upstairs bathroom and assumed (correctly, judging by the noises) that he knew what one was and how to use it. Alien or not, he must keep clean. I tried not to think about him using my shampoo.

Or my soap. That idea was worse.

In the relative safety of my kitchen, I put the kettle on and stood basking in the sunlight streaming through the large windows while I tried to calm my breathing. The last person I had in this house was Edina, delivering wedding invitations and trying to insist I threw a housewarming party once I'd finished redecorating. That had been five years ago. Since then I'd lived apart. Now I had a man in my bathroom. Using my soap.

The simplest thing to do was, to call the police and turn him over to them. They could give him psychiatric care, maybe, or help him find his real family, but that image of him didn't sit right with me. He was too…with-it, somehow, to be a maniac, not that I knew a lot about maniacal people.

Horses have their dark sides; Hatty's bucking was, I was certain, born from lack of confidence; Cavalier was a top class showjumper with no manners; Quickie, my two-year-old, has a vicious bite on him when he's scared or in a bad mood. It was entirely possible Loki was manipulating something out of me, despite his innocent looks.

But I knew genuine panic when I saw it. I saw it every day in the eyes of my long-term resident.

I wondered what Loki had done to deserve such a fate.

As the kettle finished I put instant coffee granules into two mugs and added the freshly boiled water. I let my thoughts swirl into the bitter brown depths as I stirred.

(Do aliens drink coffee?)

Well, this one would have to. It's my fuel. I added a dash of milk to one mug and took a sip. Perfect.

The guy had also thrown out my schedule for today. Perhaps my annoyance was misguided, but I take my work very seriously. I needed to do some final work with Cavalier, reinforce the good habits I'd been fostering for the past three weeks or so. I also needed to start on Winter. It would probably have to wait until this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.

(Stupid man…he had to be in that ditch on this day, didn't he?)

"What are you thinking about?"

I jumped, and almost dropped my coffee, swivelled to see Loki standing in the doorway towel-drying his hair. He was still wearing his pyjama-esque clothing, which was smeared with greenery and ditch water but he himself looked cleaner and healthier.

"Dammit, you move quietly," I said.

"You seemed preoccupied," he responded in his musical accent. "What with?"

The truth blurted out before I could think of anything tactful to say. "I don't like having you here. It's my corner of the world."

His face fell a little in confusion. Too late I remembered where I had found this man.

In an attempt to diffuse the awkward situation I pushed the second mug of cooling coffee towards him. "Have a go at that. It's coffee."

Loki looked suspiciously at the mug. I didn't blame him. It was covered in neon pink polka dots. To him it must have looked like it had some rare disease. Nevertheless he raised it to his lips and took a sip.

I watched him roll it over his tongue, trying to gauge his reaction.

He furrowed his brow a little. "Do you have anything to sweeten it with?"

"Um…yeah." I opened the top cupboard and found the tin of sugar.

Loki smiled. "Now I do know what that is."

"That's a relief," I muttered as he added a heaped spoonful and tried the drink again.

"Better."

"Good. I can't live without this stuff." I put the sugar away again.

Once again, silence descended. This one made less awkward by coffee, but awkward nonetheless.

I tried not to think about how domestic we looked. Or how well he fit here. In MY kitchen, in MY house.

Loki spoke first.

"Niamh, I…apologise if I'm intruding. I have no wish to cause trouble. You've been very good to me thus far…"

"No…look, I…I'm sorry if I was a little abrupt. I don't get visitors very much. I'm not exactly…I've been something of a recluse for five years."

Loki smiled. "Dysfunctional families are something I know about."

"That brother you mentioned?"

He nodded. "We are, I think, very much opposites – he relies much on physical strength while I am better with words. But the memories I have of him currently are…pleasant, in their way…"

Something in his tone caught my attention. "You think that something happened between you?"

"I…" He screwed up his face as though in pain and set down his mug. "When I try and remember it's as though something physically pushes me away. And it hurts."

"Maybe…they'll come back when they're ready to…" I offered. Scant advice, but I do horses, not people.

"Perhaps." He did not look mollified. I drained my coffee cup and considered my next move.

(Imagine you're dealing with a scared horse. Imagine he's Mirage.)

"What happens to me now?" he asked eventually.

I hesitated.

(Oh shit, Niamh, what are you doing?)

But I couldn't quite bring myself to get rid of him. Not tonight. Not when he was convinced he was from another planet, and making sense while saying it. "I suppose you'd better stay here for tonight."

For a moment all he could do was stare at me. "I…I don't know what to say. Thank you?" And he clearly meant it.

"That'll do just fine." I tried to squash my internal uneasiness. "I'll decide what to do with you in the morning. You can't stay here long-term, you do realise that? I'm not…I'm not the best person for dealing with memory issues."

"But still…I think it is preferable to sleeping in a ditch."

"Fair point."

Loki glanced into his (now empty) mug. He gave me a slightly sheepish look from under his long lashes (and when did you notice that?)

"Do you have any more coffee?"

I couldn't stop myself smiling at him. (Damn you green eyed hypnotist. I could actually start liking you if I'm not careful.) "Plenty more."

Tack - the umbrella term for the saddle and bridle, and anything else the horse might wear while being ridden

Monty Roberts is a world - famous horse whisperer and a major inspiration of mine. I've seen him in action, it's beautiful.

Reveiws are love, people =D