Sea Horses (4 page)

As Nan stumbled over the threshold the wind vanished. One instant it was howling over them; the next, they were gasping in complete stillness and eerie silence. Tamzin shook her head dizzily; then Nan's voice broke through her confusion.

‘Close the door! And lock it.’ Nan went quickly to the window and jerked it shut. ‘We must close them all. Windows, doors, everything!’

Tamzin's voice trembled. ‘Wh-why, Nan? What's happening? That wind –’

‘It's nothing to be frightened of,’ said Nan. ‘But there's a storm coming and it's going to be a bad one. It's safer to lock up the house.’

Tamzin knew she wasn't telling the whole truth. There was something else going on; something that Nan didn't want to tell her.
That statue
.

‘Nan!’ Tamzin began pleadingly. ‘What does it
mean
?’

But Nan hurried out of the kitchen, and pretended she hadn't heard.

By late afternoon the wind had risen to a full gale. The clouds darkened until the whole sky was a bruised, angry purplish-black, and soon afterwards the rain came driving in from the sea. Rain squalls hurled themselves up the valley, as if someone had turned on a gigantic fire-hose. The outside world was blotted out by a wall of water, and the whole house shook and rattled to the stormy wind's rampaging.

Tamzin went to her room straight after dinner. She switched on the lights, closed the curtains against the wild evening, and tried to read a book. But she couldn't concentrate. The noise of the storm was far louder upstairs and the lights kept dipping, as if they would go out at any moment. Tamzin could have gone down to the warmth and cosiness of the sitting room but Nan was there, and she felt a strong urge to stay out of Nan's way.

She was jumpy and unhappy. Dad had phoned earlier, to say he was home safely, and she had talked to him and to Mum. She had wanted to tell them about the statue. But what was there to tell? She had disobeyed Nan, Nan had been cross with her, and she was frightened of a piece of stone? It would sound silly, so she had said nothing. Anyway, if she had blurted the story out Mum and Dad would have started worrying, and there was nothing they could actually do. It wouldn't have been fair to trouble them.

Tamzin picked up her book again, trying not to listen to the noises of the storm. But it was impossible to ignore them. Eerily, the sounds made her think of horses. The screaming wind was like wild neighing and the rain hammering on the roof tiles seemed to echo the sound of drumming, galloping hooves.
Go away, go away!
Tamzin said silently and fiercely.
I don't want to listen! Oh, go aw
–

She yelped, and jumped like a startled rabbit as suddenly the lights went out. Darkness engulfed the room. In panic Tamzin fumbled for the bedside lamp but when she worked the switch nothing happened.

Fear set her heart thumping as she scrambled to her feet and tried to find the door. She bumped into a chair and knocked it over with a crash. At last her hand closed round the doorknob. The landing was dark too. She started to grope her way along, then to her enormous relief a light flickered on the stairs and Nan's voice called from below. ‘Tamzin? Are you all right?’

Nan was at the foot of the stairs, a torch in her hand. ‘It's a power cut,’ she said. ‘The wind must have damaged the electricity lines. It often happens in gales and storms. You'd better come down.’

Nan's company was better than the thought of staying alone upstairs in the dark. With the torch beam to help her, Tamzin hastened down the staircase and into the sitting room. There was a fire there, and Nan lit candles in two sconces that stood on the mantelpiece.

‘That's better,’ she said as the candle flames danced and brightened.

Tamzin looked around. The firelight was welcoming, but beyond it the shadows seemed to crowd in.

‘How long will the power cut last, do you think?’ she asked. Her voice was shaky.

‘Oh, it probably won't come back on till tomorrow,’ Nan told her. She smiled. ‘Don't worry, you'll get used to it. And at least the cooker's gas, so we can still make hot drinks!’

She was trying to cheer Tamzin along, and Tamzin suspected she was trying to cheer herself too. That made her feel even more uneasy, and she sat down in a chair close to the fire, suppressing a shiver.

‘Would you like to play a game?’ Nan asked. ‘I've got Scrabble and Monopoly. Or perhaps cards are easier in this light.’

It was better than nothing, so they played Rummy and Chase the Ace for an hour. Then Nan taught Tamzin Clock Patience and left her to it while she went to make some hot chocolate. But Tamzin didn't play Patience. Instead, she sat listening to the storm sounds outside; the ramp and shriek of the wind, the rush and hiss of the rain. It
was
like horses: mad, wild, dangerous horses, stampeding out of control. Like the cruel little stone horse now buried in pieces in the garden…

Suddenly she couldn't bear the tension inside her any more. She jumped up from her chair and ran to the kitchen.

‘Nan!’ She faced Nan where she stood by the cooker, in the dim light of more candles. ‘Nan, I'm frightened! I know there's something going on, and it's all to do with the statue I broke!’

‘Tamzin –’ Nan began.

‘Please, Nan!’ Tamzin cried. ‘Don't pretend! You see, I saw the words carved on the statue. What do they mean? Are they a curse?’ Tears spilled suddenly down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Nan, what have I
done
?’

For a moment Nan's face tightened angrily… then abruptly the anger collapsed. Putting a hand to her own face, she said, ‘Very well. I'll tell you. I didn't want to, but I suppose you've got a right to know.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘I'll finish making these hot drinks, then we'll go back to the sitting room and talk.’

Outside, the wind screamed an echo that made Tamzin shudder.

‘
I
t's a very old tale,’ said Nan quietly. ‘My grandmother told it to me when I was young, and she learned it from her grandmother long before that.’

They were sitting together on the sofa. Their mugs of chocolate stood on a low table nearby, but neither of them had had so much as a sip yet. Wind rocked the house; rain battered the windows. On the sofa arm, Baggins lay asleep. Tamzin listened as Nan continued.

‘That statue has been in our family for hundreds of years,’ Nan said. ‘The words you saw carved on the base are in the ancient Cornish language and they mean “Guard This Stone”. But they're only the first words of the rhyme.’

She got up and went over to the bookshelves, where she took out a large, heavy book with a black cover.

‘This is our family Bible,’ she said as she laid it on the table. ‘The whole rhyme is here, in English. One of our ancestors must have translated it into English years later, and written it down.’ She turned pages, which rustled with a strange, secretive sound. ‘Here it is.’

Tamzin leaned forward, and read:

Guard this stone that prisons me,

For if it should be cast away
,

Then I shall come from surging sea,

And turn your world to stormy grey
.

The words sent a chill through her. ‘It's a curse,’ she whispered and looked fearfully at Nan. ‘Isn't it?’

Nan sighed. ‘I don't know, and that's the truth. No one knows any more. All I can tell you is what my grandmother told me, and that was little enough.’

The flames of the fire dipped and flickered as wind roared in the chimney. The candles guttered and Baggins growled softly in his sleep. ‘Go on,’ said Tamzin. ‘Please, Nan.’

‘Well… there was an old legend about two spirits that haunted this coast long, long ago. They were known as the Blue Horse and the Grey Horse, and it was said that they came from the sea. The Blue Horse was a benevolent spirit. He brought fair winds and calm water, and protected the sailors and fishermen when they were at sea. But the Grey Horse was cruel. He brought storms and treacherous tides; he hated all humans, and took delight in wrecking ships and drowning the sailors on board.’

Nan paused, gazing into the fire. ‘My grandmother was very old when she told me this story, and she couldn't remember all of it. But a time came when the Grey Horse tried to overcome the Blue Horse and destroy him. The two spirits fought a terrible battle. There were storms and gales and huge, raging tides, and the people of the coast were terrified, for it seemed that the Grey Horse would win and destroy them all. But one fisherman's family were determined to help the Blue Horse. I don't know how they did it: the tale is so old that that part of it's long lost. But somehow that family joined forces with the Blue Horse, and between them they overcame the Grey Horse and defeated him.’

Nan turned to the table again. ‘When the battle was over and the people were safe, the eldest woman of the fisherman's family - she was very wise and people believed she had second sight – carved a stone statue. The legend says that the evil power of the Grey Horse was imprisoned in the statue, and the family pledged to keep it for always.’ She turned a piercing, searching gaze on Tamzin. ‘You've guessed who they were, haven't you?’ Tamzin's expression gave everything away, and Nan nodded. ‘That's right. They were our ancestors. And the legend also says that if the statue should ever be broken, the dark spirit will be released again.’

Silence fell. Even the sounds of the storm seemed to have paused for a few moments, and Tamzin felt a tight, choking sensation in her chest. At last, in a tiny, quavering voice, she whispered, ‘And I broke it.’

Nan looked away. ‘How were you to know? Maybe I should have told you before. Maybe I should have explained from the start.’ She sighed. ‘I inherited the statue from my grandmother. She told me to take great care of it and never let it out of my keeping. It was our duty, she said, to keep faith with the Blue Horse, and keep the Grey Horse's evil power at bay. And in time, I was to pass that duty on to my eldest granddaughter, as our ancestors have done for centuries.’

‘Your eldest granddaughter is me…’ Tamzin whispered.

‘Yes. You're so young, though. I didn't want to tell you until you were older. I hoped you wouldn't visit me, so you wouldn't see the statue. But then your parents had to go to Canada, and there was no one else to look after you.’

Tamzin stared at the rhyme in the old Bible again.
Guard this stone that prisons me, For if it should be cast away
… The meaning was all too clear, and she began to shiver.

Nan took hold of her hand. ‘Don't be frightened, Tamzin. It's only a tale. In the old days people used to believe all kinds of foolish things, but we're more sensible now, aren't we? Maybe it isn't true. Maybe there's no such thing as the Grey Horse.’

‘But if there is,’ said Tamzin, ‘what will it do? What
can
it do?’

Nan sighed. ‘I don't know, love. We'll just have to wait and see.’

Tamzin desperately wanted to believe that the Grey Horse was just a legend. But she had felt the angry power in the statue. If that power had now been set free, what would it mean for her and Nan?

‘Nan,’ she asked, ‘what happened to the Blue Horse after the battle was over?’

‘The legend doesn't say,’ Nan replied. ‘He seems simply to have vanished.’ She smiled an odd little smile. ‘I know what you're thinking. Years ago I started painting blue horses because I hoped they might somehow call up the good spirit, to help me guard the statue. But I don't think they ever did. Even if the Blue Horse exists, no one knows how to reach him any more.’

They both fell silent. Tamzin looked at her still untouched mug, but she felt too queasy to drink. A sense of dread had lodged inside her like a tight, hard knot, and she was very frightened. Then Nan took her hand again.

‘It's getting late,’ she said. ‘You'd better go to bed now.’ Her fingers squeezed Tamzin's kindly. ‘Try not to think about the Grey Horse, mmm? The storm will be gone by morning, and all these dark things will seem much brighter.’

Tamzin didn't argue. Upstairs, with a reassuring nightlight, she snuggled deep under her duvet and tried to do as Nan had said. But how could she not think about the Grey Horse? A spirit of storms and treacherous tides, Nan had called it. Was tonight's storm an omen? Did it mean that the Grey Horse was coming back to wreak havoc, as the old rhyme warned?

And if the Grey Horse was coming back, what could anyone do to stop it?

Suddenly, mingling with the noises of the wind and rain outside, Tamzin heard something new. She tensed, listening, and after a few moments she heard it again.

It sounded like distant whinnying.

She sat bolt upright. It was the storm, it must be. All evening the screaming of the wind had been making her think of horses. There couldn't possibly be a real horse out there.

The sound came a third time, and she jumped violently. It
was
a horse's neigh – and now it was right outside in the garden.

Tamzin scrambled out of bed and rushed to the window. She didn't even think about being frightened; she had to know what was out there. Pulling back the curtain, she peered out into the wild night. For a few seconds she couldn't see anything. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she glimpsed a large, dark shape moving among the bushes.