Sea Horses Read online

  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.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Nan sighed. ‘Look, I think it would be best if you went out for a little while. Walk down to the beach for an hour and leave me to finish clearing up. We’ll both feel better by then.’

  Tamzin didn’t want to go anywhere but she was too shaken and ashamed of herself to argue. She hadn’t seen the beach yet, and maybe some sea air would help to calm her down. Certainly it seemed like a good idea to stay out of Nan’s way for a while.

  Nan was still on her knees, searching the floor as if she didn’t trust Tamzin to have found all the broken pieces. At the door Tamzin opened her mouth to try to apologize again. But Nan didn’t even look up. Unhappily, Tamzin retreated to the hall, took her coat from the peg and went quietly out of the house.

  From the garden gate a path led down the valley towards the beach. Tamzin tramped along, watching the cliffs rising higher to either side. She smelled the sea before she saw it; a sharp, fresh, tangy smell that tingled in her nostrils and helped to clear her head. Then, a little way on, the valley suddenly opened out and there in front of her was the beach.

  The tide was low and a huge, deserted expanse of smooth, pale sand stretched away in a great sweep to two massive and craggy headlands. Way out past the headlands were the white lines of the surf. Tamzin could hear it roaring, and even from this distance she could feel the strong wind blowing fine spray in her face. It was an awe-inspiring scene and it unnerved her just a little. But she ignored the feeling and walked down the slope of rocks and pebbles to the sand.

  Beyond the headlands the beach stretched away and away in both directions. There were caves and rocks and pools at the foot of the cliffs, and off to the right a ruined stone building with a tall chimney teetered on the clifftop. The ruin looked brooding and unfriendly so Tamzin turned left and walked slowly along near the tideline, scuffing her feet in the sand. She was still badly shaken by what had happened, and Nan’s fury made her feel even worse. Why hadn’t she listened to Nan’s warning? It was as if someone – or something – else had got into her mind and made her disobey. Then when she held the statue, it had seemed to move by itself. As if it had wanted her to break it.

  She shivered and stopped walking, turning to gaze out at the sea. It looked grey and cold, and the waves rolled in ferociously, tumbling and clashing against each other. A long way out, a huge rock crag jutted up from the water. Its shape was vague in the low cloud and spray, but she could see white-topped breakers surging around it. It looked menacing and dangerous, and Tamzin turned away, shoving her cold hands into her jeans pockets.

  Her fingers felt a small, hard object in one of the pockets. Puzzled, she pulled it out and stared at it. At first she couldn’t work out what it could be; it simply looked like a piece of stone with rough edges. But then she turned it over and saw the glittering red chip set into the grey. It was a piece of the broken statue; part of the horse’s head. She must have found it during the hunt for the last fragments, put it into her pocket, then forgotten all about it.

  The last thing Tamzin wanted was a reminder of the statue, and for a moment she was tempted to fling the piece of stone into the sea. But then she remembered what Nan had said about finding all the pieces. Maybe she wanted to try to mend the statue? Tamzin thought that she ought to take it back before Nan discovered it was missing.

  She slipped the fragment into her pocket again and turned to walk back the way she had come. As she rounded the headland she saw that she was no longer alone on the beach. Four ponies were coming towards her. One was being ridden, while the other three followed behind on leading reins. Nan had said there was a riding stable in the valley. The ponies must have come from there, and Tamzin watched with quickening interest as they came towards her. The rider was a dark-haired boy of about her own age. As they drew level he saw her staring and pulled his mount to a halt.

  ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hello.’ Tamzin pushed windblown hair out of her face and smiled uncertainly. Then she nodded at the
ponies. ‘Are they all yours?’

  ‘Yes. Well, my mum and dad’s, anyway. Like horses, do you?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Tamzin thought of the statue and added wryly, ‘Real ones, anyway.’

  ‘Do you ride?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve never learned. But I’d love to.’

  The boy grinned. ‘Then you’ve come to the right place! We own the stables up the valley. Are you here on holiday?’

  Tamzin shook her head. ‘I’ve come to live with my nan while my parents are in Canada,’ she told him. ‘Her house is in the valley too. It’s called Chapel Cottage.’

  ‘Oh! Then your nan must be Mrs Weston, the artist.’ The boy looked surprised. ‘We’re neighbours, then.’ He jumped down from his saddle with an ease that Tamzin wistfully envied. ‘My name’s Joel Richards. What’s yours?’

  ‘Tamzin Weston.’ One of the ponies, which was almost pure white with just a hint of dapple grey, pushed its muzzle towards her, and she reached out and stroked it. The pony whickered; she felt his breath on her hand, and his warm, friendly, animal smell tickled her nostrils.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ she said. ‘What’s he called?’

  ‘Moonlight,’ Joel told her. He pointed to the others one by one. ‘And that’s Pippin, that’s Jester, and the one I’m riding is Sally-Ann.’ Moonlight was nuzzling Tamzin’s coat now, hoping for titbits. ‘He’s a greedyguts too!’ Joel added. Then: ‘What did you mean about only liking real horses? Your nan paints them, doesn’t she? Don’t you like her pictures?’

  ‘Oh, they’re brilliant! It isn’t that, it’s…’ Tamzin stopped as she realized that she had been just about to blurt out the tale of the grey stone statue to a complete stranger. She shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I’ve got plenty of time.’ He saw her doubtful expression. ‘No, really. You look as if you want to talk about it. So tell me.’

  To her own surprise, and almost before she realized what she was doing, Tamzin did tell him. Joel listened as she described how she had broken the statue, and how Nan had reacted. As she finished she pulled out the fragment she had found in her pocket, saying, ‘I’m supposed to have picked up every piece. So I’ll have to take this back to Nan before she finds out it’s missing, or I’ll be in trouble all over again.’

  She held the fragment out to show him. Moonlight had been standing quietly, half dozing in the way that horses do, but as Tamzin’s hand passed close to his nose, his head suddenly jerked up. His ears went back, his nostrils flared and he shied away with a squealing noise that sounded partly like fear and partly like anger.

  ‘Moonlight!’ Hastily Joel grabbed at the reins as it seemed Moonlight might break free and bolt away. ‘Steady, boy, steady! What’s the matter?’

  Tamzin stared at the pony, then at the piece of the broken statue. ‘It was this,’ she said in a small voice. ‘He saw it, and he didn’t like it.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Joel had calmed Moonlight down and was stroking his nose. ‘It’s only a bit of stone. Here, give it to me.’ He took it and held it out towards Moonlight. ‘There you are, boy. That’s all it is, look.’

  Moonlight did look, and with a shudder he backed away, snorting.

  Joel was astonished. ‘You’re right; he doesn’t like it. All right, Moonlight, all right.’ He shoved the fragment at Tamzin. ‘You’d better put it away where he can’t see it again.’

  An unpleasant thought came to Tamzin. Animals had a sort of sixth sense, didn’t they? They knew when something was not good to have around. Suddenly she had a powerful urge to be rid of the fragment, not to have it near her any more.

  She heard her own voice say, ‘I’d rather throw it away.’

  Joel shrugged. ‘Well, throw it away, then.’

  ‘But Nan…’

  ‘She won’t know if you don’t tell her.’

  That was true. Tamzin tried to convince herself that she was being silly, that a mere piece of stone couldn’t possibly do her any harm. But there had to be a reason for the way Moonlight had behaved when he saw it. And she remembered how, in the moment before she dropped it, the little horse statue had squirmed in her hand.

  I don’t want anything to do with this! The thought rushed into her mind, and she turned away from Joel and ran towards the sea. She reached the water’s edge and stopped. The sound of the breakers seemed to swell and roar in her ears, and in the gloom the distant rock crag loomed like a threat.

  Tamzin drew her arm back and hurled the piece of the statue as far out into the sea as she could.

  She walked back to where Joel waited with the ponies. ‘Better?’ he asked.

  Tamzin nodded. She did feel relieved now that the fragment was gone. ‘I’d better go back to Nan’s,’ she said. ‘She’ll be wondering where I am.’

  ‘Come up to the stables if you’d like to,’ Joel invited. ‘Any time.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d like that.’

  He mounted Sally-Ann again, and Tamzin watched as he and all the ponies trotted away across the beach for their exercise. The sky was darkening ominously and in the distance veils of rain were sweeping across the sea. Tamzin shivered and hurried back towards the path. Once, she looked back. Joel and the ponies were some way off now, but she could see Moonlight more clearly than the rest. In the ominous light, his white coat seemed to be tinged with blue.

  Just like all the horses in Nan’s pictures.

  The wind was rising and Tamzin could feel rain in the air by the time she got back to Chapel Cottage. At first she thought Nan wasn’t in. But then she heard noises from the studio. Nan was there, still searching on the floor, and when she heard Tamzin’s footsteps she looked up.

  ‘There’s a piece of the statue missing!’ she said agitatedly. ‘I can’t find it anywhere!’

  Tamzin felt a terrible sense of guilt, and her face reddened. But she couldn’t pretend, so she told Nan what she had done.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nan,’ she finished. ‘I just had to get rid of it. I couldn’t bear having it around me.’

  She expected Nan to be furious – but Nan wasn’t. Instead she sighed heavily. ‘Oh, Tamzin. I can’t blame you for feeling that.’ She got to her feet, her eyes sad and, Tamzin thought uneasily, just a little frightened. ‘What’s done is done, and there’s no changing it,’ she added. ‘The statue can’t be mended now. I think the best thing I can do is bury it in the garden.’

  ‘Bury it?’ Tamzin echoed. ‘Why, Nan?’

  Nan only shook her head. ‘Never mind. We won’t talk about it any more. It’s better that way.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Tamzin.’ Nan’s voice became stern. ‘I said we won’t talk about it.’

  She picked up the bag of pieces and went into the kitchen. Tamzin followed, in time to see her opening the back door.

  ‘Can I help?’ she asked timidly.

  ‘No,’ said Nan. She picked up a trowel from the windowsill and took it and the bag outside. From the doorway Tamzin watched as Nan walked to the furthest flowerbed, crouched down and began to dig a hole. It seemed to take her a long time; she dug very deeply, and Tamzin wondered why she should take so much trouble. At last, though, Nan was satisfied. She dropped the bag into the hole and started to fill it in. As she worked, her lips moved. She was muttering something but Tamzin was too far away to hear what it was. She shuffled her feet on the doorstep, feeling uneasy. What was Nan doing? Why had she insisted that the statue must be buried? What was going on?

  Nan shovelled the last trowelful of earth into the hole and patted it down. As she started to get up, from the direction of the sea came a sudden deep roar. It sounded like an express train approaching. Tamzin turned towards it, frowning…

  An enormous blast of wind came screaming up the valley and across the garden. It hit Nan full on and almost bowled her over. Staggering, she tried to regain her balance, and Tamzin screamed out to her in terror.

  ‘Nan! Nan!’

  Her cry was torn from her and flung away, and she clung desperately to
the door frame as the great wind tried to snatch her off her feet. Through the tangle of hair that whipped stingingly across her face she glimpsed Nan struggling towards the house. Nan’s arm flailed towards Tamzin, and Tamzin reached out. Their fingers touched, they grasped each other, and Tamzin pulled with all her strength.

  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.