Sea Horses by Louise Cooper Page B

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