Sea Horses (8 page)

‘There's one, Mrs Beck.’ Lisa grinned mischievously. ‘Lion Rock!’

Everyone groaned, and when the noise subsided Mrs Beck said, ‘I get the joke! Very good. But I think we'll stick to real animals, all right? Come on, let's have some more ideas, and we'll make a list.’

As the rest of the class started to call out their suggestions, Lisa looked sidelong at Tamzin. ‘Have you seen Lion Rock yet?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Tamzin. ‘From the beach.’

‘I've been right to it. In my uncle's boat. He took me out last summer, when the sea was calm. It's really creepy when you get close up, and much bigger than it looks from the shore.’ Lisa smiled. ‘He's going to take me again next year, with some friends. You can come, if you like.’

Before Tamzin could reply, Mrs Beck said, ‘Lisa, there'll be plenty of time for that later, whatever it is. Come on, or you'll be the only one without an idea – and we want to win the prize for the most sales, don't we!’

Tamzin meant to talk to Nan about Mrs Beck's suggestion when she got home. But Nan was busy in her studio, and then it was tea time, and then Baggins bolted his food and was sick on the sitting-room carpet, and then there was a good programme on TV. So, with one thing and another, she hadn't got round to asking by bedtime.

She had an awful dream that night. She was running through the dark in a howling gale that roared and beat around her. Great gusts buffeted her from side to side, and the ground underfoot was rough and uneven, so that she stumbled and staggered and could hardly stay on her feet. She wanted to find somewhere to shelter and hide. But there was nowhere to hide, for the sea was rising up behind her, and she knew that if she did not run then it would come rushing over her and she would drown!

The wind screamed and roared, sounding like galloping hooves. Tamzin cried for help, but there was no one to help her. Then she heard a new sound, far behind but coming closer with every moment. Another kind of roar, deeper and steadier than the wind. The sea – it was overtaking her! She couldn't run fast enough, she couldn't escape! And the noise of the sea was like a deep, ugly voice, calling out over the wind's howl: ‘
GREY
…
GREY
…
GREY
…’

‘Tamzin!’ Someone was shaking her shoulder. ‘Tamzin, wake up!’

The dream flashed away into nothing, and Tamzin jolted awake to find the light on and Nan at her bedside.

‘You were having a bad dream, love,’ said Nan. ‘I heard you calling out, and you were thrashing around in bed. But the dream's gone now. You're awake and safe. Are you all right?’

Tamzin nodded. She felt shocked and breathless.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Nan asked.

Tamzin hesitated, then shook her head. ‘N… no thanks, Nan. I'd rather not.’ She paused. ‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly two o'clock.’

Nan was still fully dressed. ‘Hadn't you gone to bed?’ Tamzin asked.

‘No.’ Nan sighed. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I was trying to get that new horse painting right. I still can't make it work.’

‘Mrs Beck was talking about your horse paintings at school today,’ said Tamzin. ‘We're having a Christmas art and craft sale for charity, and she asked if I could do a picture.’

‘Did she?’

‘Yes. But I can't draw. So Mrs Beck said to ask, would you help?’

Nan looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Can't you draw?’ she said. ‘Have you ever really tried?’

Tamzin hadn't shown Nan the drawings she had tried to do of Moonlight. They weren't
that
bad… ‘I suppose I haven't,’ she admitted.

‘Well, then.’ Nan sat down on the bed. ‘You wouldn't like to use my new picture to start you off, would you?’ She gave a strange little laugh. ‘I'm not getting anywhere; it doesn't seem to like me. Maybe it'll like you better.’

Tamzin's eyes widened. ‘I couldn't, Nan! Your pictures are brilliant – I'd spoil it! Anyway, it'd be cheating.’

‘No, it wouldn't. Mrs Beck did ask, after all. And you can tell her what you're doing.’

‘But it's
yours
.’ Tamzin couldn't explain, but the thought of painting on one of Nan's pictures, even if Nan encouraged it, felt all wrong and even a little bit frightening.

Nan, though, was looking at her keenly. ‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘I don't think it is mine. It's just a feeling I've got, but… I think you're the one who
should
finish it.’

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Tamzin asked.

‘Remember when you came home from riding and found me having trouble with the painting? I first had the feeling then. I told you, didn't I, how I started painting blue horses because I hoped they were a… a sort of protecting influence. Well, maybe they are, or could be. But I don't believe it works for me; not any more. I've had my time, Tamzin. Now I think it might be your turn.’

Tamzin couldn't answer. She just stared, wide-eyed, and after a few seconds Nan smiled sadly. ‘It was just an idea,’ she said. ‘I'm Probably being silly. But think about it, and if you want to complete the picture…’ She stood up. ‘I suppose I ought to go to bed as it's so late. Will you be all right now, love?’

‘Yes,’ said Tamzin. ‘I'm fine. Honestly.’

‘Well, goodnight then.’ Nan kissed Tamzin's cheek and left the room.

For a few minutes there were sounds from the bathroom, then came the click of Nan's bedroom door closing. Tamzin knew she should try to go back to sleep. But she was afraid of having another nightmare, and she was thinking about what Nan had said. Nan
wanted
her to take over the trouble-some picture. She truly believed it was the right thing to do. So why was Tamzin afraid to try?

She couldn't answer the question – or perhaps she didn't want to. She turned over in bed, picked up a book, and tried to concentrate on reading.

That week at school Tamzin was in a dilemma about Nan's picture. Mrs Beck had asked again if Nan might help and Tamzin had told a white lie, saying yes, well, maybe, and she would ask. By Thursday, though, she was still no nearer to making a decision.

Thursday was a blustery day, and by the time Nan came to pick Tamzin up from school it was raining too.

‘Typical October weather!’ said Nan as Tamzin scrambled into the car out of the squally downpour. ‘Never mind, the forecast says it'll clear up tomorrow so it shouldn't spoil your weekend for riding. The sea's huge; I walked to the beach to look. Full moon tomorrow too. There'll be big spring tides.’

Tamzin had learned about the spring tides, which happened at new and full moons. The sea came in and went out much further than at the neap tides in between. With any luck, she and Joel could canter all the way along the beach this weekend.

The wind boomed and the rain lashed round Chapel Cottage all evening, and Tamzin went to sleep with the noises in her ears. When she woke up it was nearly dawn, and she wondered what was different. Then she realized that the squalls had gone and the world outside was quiet and still.

She felt wide awake. And she was thinking, again, about Nan's picture.

She got up, pulled on a sweatshirt and padded quietly downstairs. The first dim light was creeping in at the windows, and Baggins greeted her with a sleepy meow from his favourite chair in the kitchen.

Tamzin went into Nan's studio. It was still too dark to see much, but the unfinished painting was just visible on its easel. She went up to it and peered.

The painting showed nothing but sea and sky. The horse Nan had begun to draw wasn't there any more.

Tamzin's heart bumped painfully. What had happened? Where was the horse? She ran to switch on the light, and as brightness flooded the room she hurried back to view the picture again.

One look, and she realized what an idiot she was. The horse's outline hadn't been spirited away by some awful, supernatural power.

Nan had simply painted over it; Tamzin could see the new paint shining wetly where it had been.

Suddenly she had an overwhelming impulse to do what Nan had suggested and draw a horse of her own on the painting. Nan used charcoal, she knew, and there were some sticks of it in a box on a nearby table. Tamzin picked up a stick and stood squarely in front of the picture. She imagined Moonlight standing sideways on to the sea, his head high and his mane and tail blowing in the wind. If she could just capture that…

She reached out and made a bold, sweeping stroke with the charcoal, as she had seen Nan do. But she had forgotten about the wet paint. Instead of the clear line she wanted, the charcoal smeared in a huge, ugly grey smudge over the picture.

Tamzin stared, horrified, at what she had done.
Grey
, over the blue. In a single moment all the terrors that she had tried to put out of her mind came rushing and tumbling back. She had to clean the grey off! She mustn't leave it like this!

Snatching up a cloth she rubbed frantically at the charcoal smudge. But though a lot of it came off, some stayed, and spread further across the painting. It almost looked like a horse's shape.

Tamzin came close to panicking. There was only one other thing she could try, and she rummaged among Nan's tubes of paint until she found a blue that was about the same colour as the area she had spoiled. It took her nearly half an hour to cover up the charcoal smudges. But at last the grey could no longer be seen. Blue over grey. She had blotted out the dark influence. Nothing bad would happen. It wouldn't. It
couldn't
.

Feeling sick and frightened and horribly alone, Tamzin put the paint away, switched off the light and ran back upstairs to her room.

D
espite Tamzin's fears, nothing dreadful happened that day. To her relief Mrs Beck didn't ask about the horse picture again, and she went home after school with the happier prospect of a weekend of riding ahead.

But that night, the bad dream came back. Again she was running through darkness with the wind raging around her and the sea roaring. This time, though, another sound was mingling with the racket of the storm – the sound of bells. They were ringing a wild peal, and to Tamzin's dream-locked mind the clanging tones seemed to be saying,
‘Blue, Blue! To you! Blue! Blue! To you!’

Suddenly she snapped out of the nightmare and woke with a gasp. Her bedroom was dark but the sound of the bells was still going on. ‘To…
you
… To…
you
…’ It was real, it was in the room…

Then Tamzin realized that her new mobile phone was ringing.

She grabbed the phone from her bedside table. ‘H-hello?’

‘Tamzin?’ It was Joel. ‘Sorry, but I had to call. There's something weird going on.’

Tamzin's heart started to beat faster. Joel's voice was strained, and all her nerve-ends tingled in response. ‘What is it?’ she whispered.

‘I woke up a few minutes ago,’ said Joel, ‘and there were noises in the stable yard. When I looked out, I saw Moonlight. He'd got out of his stall somehow and he was escaping out of the yard, towards the valley. I think he's heading for your place. But that's not all. As he went through the gate, I… I…’

The tingle in Tamzin's nerves became as sharp as needles. ‘What?’ she asked.

There was a pause. Then, ‘Tam, I know what I've said before. About the Blue and the Grey Horse being just a crazy old story. But I saw something in the yard. I didn't imagine it and I couldn't have mistaken it for anything else. It was another horse. A dark grey horse. It was as real as I am. It
looked
at me. But then suddenly it wasn't there any more.’

As he spoke the last words, Tamzin heard a rustle outside her window. She jumped violently and hissed into the phone, ‘Joel, there's something in the garden, I just heard it! Wait a moment…’

It took all her courage to slip out of bed, cross to the window and pull back the curtain just enough to peep cautiously through.

Moonlight was in the garden. He was wearing only a halter and she could clearly see the frayed end of its broken rope dangling. The pony raised his head, saw her and gave a low, urgent whicker, pawing the ground impatiently.

‘It's Moonlight!’ she hissed into the phone. ‘He's here!’

‘See if you can catch him,’ said Joel, sounding more strained than ever, ‘and wait for me. I'll be there in five minutes. And Tam… I think I believe you now.’

He broke the connection. Moonlight whickered again and stamped a forehoof impatiently. He looked as if he would take off at any moment, and hastily Tamzin dropped the curtain and started to scrabble for her clothes.

The house was dark and quiet as she felt her way carefully downstairs. She wondered if she should wake Nan, but instinct said no. Joel was on his way; between them they could cope with Moonlight.

Tamzin managed to ease the garden door open without the squeaky hinges making too much noise, and slipped outside. The night air was chilly, and she shivered. The moon was full and high in the sky, blotting out the stars and giving a strange, silvery cast to the garden and the valley beyond. It turned Moonlight's coat to silver, too. He saw Tamzin and came quickly towards her, pushing his muzzle against her outstretched hands.

‘Moonlight!’ Tamzin stroked him. ‘There now, it's all right! What are you doing here? What do you want?’