Sea Horses Read online

  Born in Hertfordshire, England, on 29 May 1952, Louise Cooper describes herself as ‘a typical scatter-brained Gemini’. She spent most of her school years writing stories when she should have been concentrating on lessons, and her first fantasy novel, The Book of Paradox, was published in 1973, when she was just twenty years old. Since then she has published more than sixty books for adults and children.

  Louise now lives in Cornwall with her husband, Cas Sandall, and their deaf white cat. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys singing (and playing various instruments), cooking, gardening, ‘messing about on the beach’ and – just to make sure she keeps busy – is also treasurer of her local Royal National Lifeboat Institution branch.

  Visit Louise at her own web site at

  www.louisecooper.com.

  In the same series

  1. Sea Horses

  2. Sea Horses: The Talisman

  3. Sea Horses: Gathering Storm

  4. Sea Horses: The Last Secret

  Louise Cooper

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  First Published 2003

  9

  Copyright © Louise Cooper, 2003

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-0-14-193152-4

  This book is dedicated to all the staff and pupils of St Agnes School in Cornwall, who eagerly encouraged me to write it – and will doubtless find the setting familiar!

  Dad said, ‘Nearly there,’ and Tamzin Weston’s heart sank into her shoes. She looked out of the car window at the little Cornish village they were driving through, and thought how bleak everything looked – as bleak as she felt.

  She desperately wanted to say, ‘Please, Dad, please, I don’t want to be here!’ but she bit the words back. She knew that Dad and Mum had to go abroad because of work. She also knew why she couldn’t go with them. They would be travelling all over Canada, living mostly in hotels, which would make things like school impossible. Tamzin was trying to understand, but it would be a whole year before her parents came home again. And meanwhile she must stay with her nan – Dad’s mother – in an isolated house in a place that she had never seen before. It made her feel very dismal and more than a little scared.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if she really knew Nan. But they hadn’t met since Tamzin was about five, and Tamzin could hardly remember her. They sent each other Christmas and birthday cards and presents, but Nan hadn’t been to visit them for years. She was an artist, and Dad joked that she was a bit eccentric. She looked nice in photographs but what sort of person was she really? Tamzin couldn’t help wondering if maybe Nan didn’t like children. It would explain why she had hardly ever come to visit, and the thought worried Tamzin. If it was true, how on earth were they going to get on?

  Well, she would soon find out. They had left the village behind, and now they were driving along a narrow lane with rough, plant-covered stone walls – Dad said they were called Cornish hedges – on either side. Then the lane turned, and ahead of them was a deep valley that led towards the sea, with cliffs rising on either side. Down a steep hill, then Dad turned the car on to a rough track that led off the road, and a minute later Tamzin saw Chapel Cottage for the first time.

  The house stood on its own in a small garden surrounded by scrub and gorse. It was built of grey stone, and in the dull October afternoon it looked chilly and unwelcoming. They bumped down the last stretch of track and stopped next to a little yellow car that was parked outside the house. As Dad switched the engine off, the house’s front door opened and Nan appeared.

  She was tall, with black hair piled up on her head, and she was wearing baggy old trousers and a loose top that was splashed with paint stains. Her skin was very tanned, and she was smiling. They got out of the car and Nan kissed Dad. ‘Peter!’ she said, then turned to Tamzin. ‘Hello, Tamzin, dear. It’s a long time since we last met, isn’t it?’

  Tamzin nodded. ‘Yes… Nan.’

  ‘You must be tired after the journey,’ Nan continued, ‘so come and have some tea before we see about your luggage.’

  She led Dad into the house, still talking, and Tamzin trailed after them. They entered the kitchen, which was enormous and very old-fashioned, with a low ceiling that made it dark and gloomy. A fluffy black cat was curled on a chair. Tamzin held out a hand but the cat jumped down and walked away, which didn’t make her feel any better.

  She sat at the big wooden table while Nan poured tea. Dad was talking about Canada, and Tamzin tried not to listen. She was on the verge of tears already and the conversation only made her feel worse. So to distract herself, she looked around the kitchen – and had a pleasant surprise.

  There was a painting of a horse on the wall, several china horses on the shelves, and a row of polished horse brasses hanging from one of the beams. Tamzin’s spirits lifted a little. Her biggest dream was to learn to ride and, maybe, have a pony of her own one day.

  Nan saw her looking. ‘Do you like horses?’ she asked.

  ‘I love them!’ said Tamzin.

  ‘She certainly does,’ Dad agreed. ‘She’s always wanted to have riding lessons but there aren’t any riding schools near us.’

  ‘Oh, it’s very different here,’ said Nan. ‘In fact there’s a riding stable just up the valley.’ She smiled at Tamzin. ‘I’ll show you in a day or two, when you’ve settled in.’

  ‘There,’ said Dad, teasing. ‘Before you know where you are, you won’t be missing Mum and me at all!’

  That wasn’t true, of course. Tamzin was going to miss them dreadfully, and her friends, and everything she knew. But maybe life at Chapel Cottage wouldn’t be so bad. For Dad’s sake, anyway, she was determined to put on a brave face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ she said, and managed to smile back at him. ‘I’m going to be fine. Really I am.’

  Tamzin’s new bedroom overlooked the valley. It was a nice room with a comfortable bed, wardrobe, dressing table and even a washbasin of her own. She couldn’t glimpse the sea from the window but Nan said that the beach was only a short walk away, down the valley path.

  There was another horse picture in her room. It was in a similar style to the one in the kitchen, and when she looked at it closely Tamzin saw Nan’s name signed in the corner. These paintings were hers, then. They were very good, Tamzin thought. And all very blue: blue skies, blue light – this one was a moonlit picture of a horse with a flying mane and tail, galloping out of a blue sea. T
he horse was white, but its coat had a blue tinge… Nan must have a thing about blue, Tamzin told herself, and smiled.

  Nan came in behind her, carrying one of her cases. ‘What do you think of my pictures?’ she asked.

  Tamzin turned round. ‘They’re lovely! Especially this one – I think I like it the best.’ She looked at the picture again. ‘Do you always paint horses?’

  ‘Nearly always,’ said Nan. ‘Though I sometimes do other things to sell. I used to ride, you know, but I wasn’t very good at it. So now I just do horse pictures and collect a few horsy things.’

  Tamzin smiled shyly at her. ‘Thank you for putting this one in my room. It’ll be the first thing I see when I wake up every morning.’

  Nan’s expression changed. ‘The first thing you see…’ she mused. ‘Mmm… that’s probably just as well.’

  Whatever did she mean? Tamzin wondered. Nan’s face was thoughtful, and there was a peculiar little downward curve to her mouth, as if she was worried about something. But before Tamzin could ask any questions, she seemed to shake her thoughts off and was suddenly brisk and cheerful.

  ‘Dinner’s nearly ready, so hurry and unpack, then come down. I’ll see you in a few minutes, all right?’

  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.

  Tamzin 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 k
issed 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.