Sea Horses (2 page)

She went out, leaving Tamzin mystified.

After dinner the three of them settled in the sitting room, but before long Tamzin began to feel miserable again. Dad was staying overnight but in the morning he would drive back home, then the day after that he and Mum would board their plane and fly away to Canada. It was all looming horribly close. Tamzin hated being weak, but if she wasn't careful she would start to cry.

Nan saw her blinking and looked kindly at her. ‘This must be very dull for you, Tamzin,’ she said. ‘Why don't you go and explore the house, and leave your dad and me to chat?’

She understood without the need to be told, and Tamzin accepted gratefully. If nothing else, it would take her mind off her troubles.

Chapel Cottage wasn't that big but it was certainly interesting. There seemed to be lots of little rooms, with twisty passages and steps leading to and from them. You couldn't exactly get lost but it was easy to pretend you could. And in every room Tamzin found, there were more of Nan's horse paintings. Most of them were quite small but a few were as large as the one in her bedroom. Again, the paintings and the horses in them were all very blue.

The last room she came to was Nan's studio. It was at one end of the house and it had huge picture windows on three sides, almost like a conservatory. It was dark now, and long curtains were drawn over the windows, but there must be a marvellous view in the daytime.

The room was full of canvases, tubes of paint, rags and bottles; all the clutter of an artist's workplace. There were two half-finished paintings on easels, one a portrait of two children, the other a blue sea-and-sky scene. Blue again… Was Nan going to add a horse to that picture? Tamzin wondered.

She moved slowly round the room, looking at everything but being careful not to touch. In one corner stood a tall cupboard with a glass door. She paused in front of it, to see what was inside – and stopped.

On a shelf in the cupboard, roughly level with her eyes, was a little statue of a horse. It seemed to be made of a kind of rough stone, and in the shadows away from the ceiling light its colour looked granite-grey. The horse was rearing high and, though it was quite crudely carved, it somehow seemed so realistic that Tamzin shuddered. Everything about it was
angry
, from its stiff mane and tail to its teeth, which were bared in a ferocious challenge. Chips of red stone had been set into the skull to make its eyes, and they glittered in the gloom with a strange, cruel light of their own.

Tamzin stood motionless, staring. The statue fascinated her, yet at the same time there was something frightening and horrible about it. Part of her wanted to run out of the room and never look at it again. Another part, though, was urging her to open the cupboard door, reach in and pick the statue up. It was as if the angry little horse was calling to her, hypnotizing her.

‘Tamzin?’

Tamzin spun round as the spell shattered. She felt strangely guilty when she saw Nan standing in the doorway and, confused, she babbled, ‘I'm sorry! I was only looking, I wasn't going to touch it!’

‘Touch what?’ said Nan.

Tamzin gulped. ‘The statue. The one of the rearing horse.’

‘Oh,’ said Nan. ‘You've seen that, have you?’

Tamzin nodded. ‘It's… creepy,’ she said.

‘It's that, all right.’ Nan's face was suddenly grim. ‘And it's very old. It's been in the family for centuries. I keep it there out of the way because…’

Nan hesitated, and Tamzin ventured, ‘Because it's so valuable?’

‘Yes,’ Nan agreed quickly. ‘Yes, that's it. It's very valuable and it mustn't get broken. So I want you to promise me that you won't touch it.’

Tamzin nodded. ‘I promise.’

‘Cross your heart?’

Tamzin was surprised. Adults didn't usually say things like that, but from the look on Nan's face it was clear that a simple promise wasn't enough. She was waiting, and uneasily Tamzin nodded again. ‘Cross my heart,’ she repeated solemnly.

‘Good.’ Nan looked relieved. ‘Well, it's getting late; time you were in bed. Would you like some hot milk before you go?’

She was deliberately changing the subject, and suddenly Tamzin knew that what she'd said about the statue wasn't the whole truth. There was another reason why the little horse was kept out of the way, and Nan didn't want Tamzin to know what that reason was. Suddenly Tamzin wanted to know. She
wanted
to very badly, and she started to say, ‘Nan, why is the statue –’

Nan interrupted. ‘Never mind that now, dear.’ Her words were kind enough but her voice was sharp. ‘I said it's bedtime. Come along.’ Then she hurried Tamzin out of the room and shut the door very firmly.

As they walked away, Tamzin looked back. She felt uneasy, and she didn't know why – but she didn't like the feeling at all.

T
amzin woke up in the dead of night. She had been dreaming about the little horse statue and, though she couldn't remember the dream clearly, she was sure that there had been something frightening about it.

She tried to go back to sleep. But she couldn't stop thinking about the little stone figure, and suddenly she felt angry. Why had Nan made her promise not to touch it? She wasn't going to drop the statue and break it; she was old enough to be responsible, and much too careful to do anything silly. It was
insulting
. What right did Nan have to tell her what she could and couldn't do? If she wanted to touch the statue, why shouldn't she?

It wasn't at all like Tamzin to get so angry about such a petty thing. But it didn't occur to her that there was anything strange about the feeling. Eventually she did manage to sleep again, but the last thought she had before her mind drifted away was:
I'll touch it if I want to. I will. I will
.

She woke in the morning to the sound of gulls screaming as they wheeled above the house and along the valley. The day was bright, with a brisk wind; the air smelled fresh and salty, and from the garden it was just possible to hear the sea. Even the black cat (who was called Baggins) was friendly and purred at her. But Tamzin hardly noticed all these things. She was thinking about the little stone horse.

At breakfast she was very quiet. Dad was leaving soon, and he and Nan thought that her silence was due to misery. They would have been surprised if they'd known the truth. For Tamzin was hardly thinking about Dad at all.

She was still thinking about the little stone horse.

Dad hugged her before he drove away. ‘Cheer up, poppet,’ he said. ‘The time'll fly by, you wait and see. Be strong – and try to have some fun.’

‘Don't worry, Peter, I'll take good care of her,’ said Nan. ‘Phone us when you get home, won't you?’

‘Of course I will. And we'll ring again tomorrow, before we leave for the airport.’

Tamzin kissed Dad goodbye and watched until his car disappeared from sight along the track. Tears welled in her eyes, making the garden and the valley blurry. She rubbed them away then went back into the house.

‘All right?’ Nan, who was in the kitchen, asked kindly.

Tamzin nodded. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘I'm going to the village soon. Would you like to come?’

Tamzin's heart gave a strange, eager skip. ‘Um… do you mind if I don't?’ she said. ‘I'd rather go to my room for a bit.’

‘Of course. I understand. Tomorrow, maybe.’

Tamzin almost ran upstairs, and when she reached her room she shut the door and sat down on the bed. She felt breathless and excited. Nan was going out, which meant that she would have the house to herself for a while.

And down below in the studio, the little stone horse was luring her…

A few minutes later Nan called out to say goodbye. Tamzin heard the bang of the front door, then the sound of Nan's yellow car starting up and driving off. She waited until the noise of the engine had died away in the distance, then she stood up and ventured out on to the landing. Her heart was jumping like a grasshopper, and she had a strong urge to go on tiptoe down the stairs. How silly there was no one to hear her. Yet she couldn't shake off the feeling that another, unseen presence was in the house, following invisibly in her footsteps.

In the hall, the sense of being watched was so strong that she looked back over her shoulder. It was just her imagination, of course. There was no one there. Baggins was asleep on a kitchen chair and took no notice as Tamzin hurried to Nan's studio.

Nan had obviously been in here this morning, for the curtains at the picture windows were pulled back. The view was wonderful but Tamzin ignored it. She went to the corner cupboard and looked through the glass door.

The stone horse was still there. She had been half afraid that Nan might have moved it, but it seemed Nan trusted her to keep her promise. Tamzin felt a pang of guilt. Deep down she knew it was wrong of her to break her word. Then the guilt faded. What harm could there be in just holding the stone horse for a minute? She would look at it more closely then put it carefully back, and Nan would never know that she had touched it.

The cupboard door wasn't locked but it was very stiff, as if it hadn't been opened for a long time. When Tamzin finally managed to jerk it open, the whole cupboard rocked. The little horse teetered too, then suddenly it tipped right over.

‘Oh, no!’ Tamzin made a desperate grab for the statue as it started to fall from its shelf. For one awful moment she thought it was going to slip through her fingers and crash to the floor, but at the last instant her hands seemed to close of their own accord, and the statue was safely caught. She breathed a vast sigh of relief then, as her pulse slowed down after the panic, she looked closely at her prize.

The horse
was
made of a granite-grey stone, and it wasn't at all beautiful. In fact, she thought, it was ugly, with its heavy head, ears laid flat back and savage expression. It looked… what? Tamzin fumbled for the word she wanted and found it at last. It looked
cruel
.

She turned the statue over and saw that some words had been carved on its base.

‘
Gweetho An Men Ma
…’ She murmured them to herself. Whatever did they mean? They were not like any language she had ever seen, and she could make no sense of them.

A cold shiver went through Tamzin. Something about the stone horse was making her skin crawl. Why had she been fascinated with it, so fascinated that she had been ready to break her promise to Nan? All those feelings had suddenly winked away into nothing, leaving a sense of dread in their place. She didn't want to touch the statue any more. She didn't want anything to do with it. She just wanted to put it back and try to forget that she had ever set eyes on it.

She turned quickly back to the cupboard, stretching up to the shelf – and the stone horse moved in her grasp.

Tamzin gave a cry of shock, and jerked her hands up. She didn't mean to fling the statue away from her but she couldn't help it. In an awful frozen moment she saw it spinning in the air, and she knew what was going to happen.

The statue hit the floor and shattered into pieces. As it broke, Tamzin had a second shock – for a chilly light flickered through the room and she seemed to hear an eerie, bell-like sound that was almost like a horse neighing shrilly. She stood frozen, staring down in horror at the smashed statue. The light and the sound had gone in an instant but she was certain she hadn't imagined them. What did they mean?
What had she done
?

Desperately she dropped to a crouch and started to scrabble for the broken fragments, trying to gather them all up. There were so many; she'd never find them all, she'd never –

‘Tamzin?’

The voice came from the doorway. Alarmed, Tamzin looked up. She hadn't heard the car returning, but Nan was there. She was standing very still and her face had turned pale.

‘I…’ Tamzin swallowed. ‘I didn't mean to… I was holding it and it seemed to
move
, and…’

Nan took a deep breath, then she exploded. ‘You stupid, disobedient girl!’ she shouted. ‘What did I tell you about the statue?’

‘I'm sorry!’ Tamzin pleaded.

‘What's the use of being sorry? It's broken! Oh, you fool, you wretched, meddling little
fool
!’ In two strides Nan was across the floor. Tamzin thought she was going to grab her arm and shake her, but she didn't. Instead she knelt down and started frantically to collect more fragments. ‘Help me!’ she snarled. ‘Pick them up! All of them. Make sure you get every single one!’

Almost in tears, Tamzin did as she was told. She was as frightened by Nan as she had been by the weird incident. But Nan didn't shout at her again. Instead, a stormy silence hung over the room as the two of them gathered up the pieces of the stone horse. Trying to make amends, Tamzin looked under furniture and crawled into corners until at last she was certain that every fragment must have been found.

‘All right,’ Nan replied curtly when Tamzin said she'd found them all. Then abruptly Nan's shoulders slumped. ‘Oh Tamzin, I'm sorry I shouted at you. I didn't mean to. It was just the shock.’

Tamzin bit her lip. ‘It was my fault, Nan. You told me not to touch it.’