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.
It was a horse. There could be no doubt of it. Tamzin saw its mane tossing in the wind, the smooth, sleek shape of its neck, the gleam of its eyes. Fear hit her. She drew a huge breath to scream for Nan – and the dark shape wasn't there any more.
Shocked, Tamzin stood staring at the place where the horse had been. It hadn't galloped away. It couldn't have done in such a short time. It had simply vanished into thin air.
Slowly she let the curtain drop. Her heart was thumping and she didn't know what to think. Had the horse really been there? She was so wound up that she could easily have imagined the whole thing. Or maybe she'd been half asleep, and the sound and the dark shape had been a sort of waking dream.
With a shiver she turned back to her bed. As she did so, Nan's painting caught her eye. The blue horse, galloping out of a sea under a full moon… In the dim, flickering glow of the nightlight the picture looked so real and alive. And as Tamzin looked at it, it seemed to her that it really did come to life. She saw the waves surging, saw the horse racing towards her, as if it would burst out of the picture frame and into the room.
The illusion only lasted for a moment, then it was gone and the painting was still again. Tamzin stared. She should have been frightened but she wasn't. Instead, she felt a strange sense of peace washing over her; the complete opposite of the feeling she had had from the Grey Horse's statue. It was silly, it was crazy, but she could almost believe that the horse in the painting had been galloping towards her to protect her.
Without knowing why, she whispered, ‘ Blue Horse …?’ There was no answer, of course. The horse in the painting did not move again. But Tamzin felt comforted.
She went back to bed, and lay gazing steadily at the picture until she fell asleep.
B y morning the storm was gone. The wind was still blustery and flurries of rain blew up the valley, but by the time Tamzin and Nan sat down to breakfast the sun was breaking through.
The electricity had come on again and Nan chatted cheerfully about everyday things, almost as if their talk last night had never happened. But it had happened and Tamzin
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.
It was a horse. There could be no doubt of it. Tamzin saw its mane tossing in the wind, the smooth, sleek shape of its neck, the gleam of its eyes. Fear hit her. She drew a huge breath to scream for Nan – and the dark shape wasn't there any more.
Shocked, Tamzin stood staring at the place where the horse had been. It hadn't galloped away. It couldn't have done in such a short time. It had simply vanished into thin air.
Slowly she let the curtain drop. Her heart was thumping and she didn't know what to think. Had the horse really been there? She was so wound up that she could easily have imagined the whole thing. Or maybe she'd been half asleep, and the sound and the dark shape had been a sort of waking dream.
With a shiver she turned back to her bed. As she did so, Nan's painting caught her eye. The blue horse, galloping out of a sea under a full moon… In the dim, flickering glow of the nightlight the picture looked so real and alive. And as Tamzin looked at it, it seemed to her that it really did come to life. She saw the waves surging, saw the horse racing towards her, as if it would burst out of the picture frame and into the room.
The illusion only lasted for a moment, then it was gone and the painting was still again. Tamzin stared. She should have been frightened but she wasn't. Instead, she felt a strange sense of peace washing over her; the complete opposite of the feeling she had had from the Grey Horse's statue. It was silly, it was crazy, but she could almost believe that the horse in the painting had been galloping towards her to protect her.
Without knowing why, she whispered, ‘ Blue Horse …?’ There was no answer, of course. The horse in the painting did not move again. But Tamzin felt comforted.
She went back to bed, and lay gazing steadily at the picture until she fell asleep.
B y morning the storm was gone. The wind was still blustery and flurries of rain blew up the valley, but by the time Tamzin and Nan sat down to breakfast the sun was breaking through.
The electricity had come on again and Nan chatted cheerfully about everyday things, almost as if their talk last night had never happened. But it had happened and Tamzin
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