‘Hi,’ he said when she arrived with Barney at her heels. ‘Rosie’s coming along well, isn’t she?’
‘She looks brilliant.’ Tamzin was still watching the mare. ‘Has anyone been on her back yet?’
‘Mum has a couple of times, but no one else. She’s still quite a handful and very strong. Even when she’s fully schooled she’ll only be used for really experienced riders, Mum says.’
Tamzin laughed. ‘Not me, then! Though I wouldn’t want to swap Moonlight for another horse anyway.’
They walked back towards the stables, and Tamzin told Joel about Marga’s plan to ride over on Lossie.
‘Great,’ Joel said. ‘Then we can all get down to some planning. What’s Marga like?’
‘She’s…’ Tamzin hesitated, frowning. ‘Well, I think she’s a bit lonely and not all that happy at home.’ She explained the thoughts she had had about Marga’s situation, adding, ‘I think she needs to make some real friends. If she’s allowed to.’
Joel grimaced. ‘That’s rough. Well, we’ll have to see what we can to do help.’
They reached the stables and Tamzin went straight to Moonlight’s stall. The dapple-grey pony greeted her affectionately, whickering and slobbering on her hand as she gave him the carrot and apple chunks she always brought for him. With Marga coming there would be no ride this morning, so Joel suggested that they clean tack while they waited for Marga to arrive.
He was rubbing at a saddle and Tamzin polishing stirrup-irons when they both heard the sound of approaching hooves. Tamzin reached the tack-room door first and looked out in time to see a chestnut horse clattering into the yard, with Marga on its back.
Lossie was not what she had expected at all. He was much taller than Moonlight, long-legged and high-shouldered, with a bright chestnut coat and a long, flowing mane and tail that streamed in the wind. Against the disturbed and gloomy sky he presented such a striking picture that Tamzin drew in her breath in an involuntary gasp.
Lossie snorted, tossing his head, and his iron shoe made a bell-like ringing as he pawed the ground. Then Marga’s voice broke the thrall that held Tamzin. ‘Hi. We’ve found the right place, then!’
She grinned, swung one leg over the saddle and jumped lightly to the ground. ‘What a day! I hope you’re not planning any clifftop rides?’
‘No.’ Tamzin grinned back, but she was still staring at the chestnut horse. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she added.
‘Who, old Lossie? Not bad, I suppose.’
‘I thought he was just a pony, but…’
‘Well, he is part-Arab.’ Marga tried to sound modest but a hint of pride had crept into her tone. ‘And I suppose, strictly speaking, he’s a horse rather than a pony. He’s nearly fifteen hands. Is there somewhere I can tie him up?’
Tamzin snapped properly back to earth. ‘Oh – yes, of course. Bring him over to the stables; there are rings in the wall.’
For all his dramatic looks Lossie seemed very placid, and followed meekly as Marga led him across the yard. Some of the Richards’ horses were looking at the stranger with great interest over their loose-box doors; one whinnied, and Lossie answered with a piercing neigh that made Tamzin jump.
Joel had emerged from the tack room and as they came up to him he said, ‘Hi – you must be Marga. That’s some horse you’ve got!’
Tamzin made proper introductions and Joel patted Lossie’s neck admiringly, asking questions about his breeding, paces, and a lot of other things that Tamzin was too inexperienced to understand. In less than a minute he and Marga were talking horse jargon and, though she knew it was silly of her, Tamzin felt a little left out. She pushed the feeling down. Marga, like Joel, had obviously been riding for years so it was only natural that they should have something in common. She stroked Lossie’s nose where the white blaze ended, and Lossie blissfully lowered his eyelashes, nudging at her to see if she had any titbits for him to eat. Hoping that Moonlight wouldn’t feel jealous, Tamzin gave him a carrot chunk that she still had left in her pocket, and while he crunched it she looked carefully, sidelong, at Marga.
Whatever kind of home life Marga had, her family certainly wasn’t short of money. For one thing, Lossie himself must have cost a fortune to buy and keep; and Marga’s riding clothes looked expensive too. No jeans and fleeces and borrowed hard helmets for her; she was wearing proper jodhpurs and a tailored jacket, and her helmet was almost brand new. She even had leather gloves with string palms to help her grip the reins. Tamzin couldn’t help a small pang of envy.
They were interrupted by a noise of hooves as Mrs Richards returned leading Briar Rose from her lesson. Marga was introduced again, Briar Rose and Lossie were admired, and Mrs Richards suggested that they should put both horses in the stables and then go into the house for hot chocolate and biscuits.
In the sitting room they all made themselves comfortable and started to talk about the Pony Fun Day. Marga had some new ideas that she had not mentioned to Tamzin, and both Joel and his mother seemed very impressed by her suggestions. Mrs Richards was particularly keen on a musical ride.
‘I did one of those once before, when I’d just qualified as a riding instructor,’ she recalled. ‘But we’ll need at least six people to make it look impressive.’
‘Well, there are four of us right here,’ said Joel. ‘And what about those twins who come every Saturday? They’re pretty good. Then there’s –’
‘All right, I get the idea!’ Mrs Richards held up her hands. ‘In fact, if we can get the numbers up to ten, it’ll look really good.’ She turned to Tamzin. ‘What about you, Tamzin? Do you think you’re up to it?’
Tamzin felt herself flushing. ‘Well…’ she said, then decided that she had better be honest. ‘I don’t know what a musical ride is,’ she admitted sheepishly.
The other three all looked surprised, which only made her feel worse. ‘It’s a kind of display,’ said Marga. ‘Lots of riders parading in line and doing things in a kind of formation.’
‘What kind of things?’ Tamzin sounded dubious.
‘Oh… tricks, mainly; like turning right round in the saddle, or bending down and touching your toes.’ Marga smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not too difficult.’
Tamzin flushed again, more deeply. Mrs Richards saw and said, ‘Of course it isn’t – and anyway, Tamzin, you’re a good rider now. So, a musical ride goes on the programme. Now, let’s start making a list of some of those other ideas…’
By lunchtime the programme for the Fun Day was pretty well planned out. Mrs Richards had made some sandwiches and when they had all finished eating she said, ‘I’ve got a couple of people coming for a lesson in the paddock at two o’clock so I can’t do any more planning today. Why don’t you three go for a ride? Moonlight’s free, Tamzin; and Joel, you can take Jester, he hasn’t been out for a couple of days. But don’t go anywhere near the cliff edges, will you? That wind’s tricky. It could be dangerous.’
‘We’ll keep inland,’ Joel promised. He glanced at Marga. ‘Is that OK with you or will Lossie be too tired?’
‘No, he’ll be fine,’ said Marga. ‘I’d love to ride with you.’
Tamzin felt a little bit piqued. There was something about the way Marga had said you, as if she meant Joel and no one else. Now Marga and Joel were leaving the room together, chatting and laughing. They didn’t bother to look back and see if Tamzin was following, and the pang Tamzin had felt earlier came back like a small, sharp pain under her ribs. It wasn’t just envy this time; it was jealousy. She was ashamed of herself but she couldn’t help it. She had thought Marga was her friend but it was obvious that Marga found Joel much more interesting, and Joel clearly liked her too.
Then, as he reached the door, Joel looked back. ‘Coming, Tam?’ he asked.
Tamzin swallowed, and squashed her thoughts down hard. Maybe she was imagining things, and the arrival of Marga on the scene wouldn’t spoil her own friendship with Joel. She hoped with all her heart that it wouldn’t.
But seeing the way Marga
was smiling at Joel, she wasn’t very convinced.
They set off up the inland valley track, Joel in the lead on Jester, Tamzin and Moonlight following and Marga and Lossie bringing up the rear. Conscious that Marga could see all her mistakes, Tamzin concentrated hard on doing everything exactly right, and Moonlight seemed to understand, for he behaved perfectly, carrying his head high and moving with his own special grace. Tamzin was grateful to him and gradually began to feel a little less tense and ruffled.
At the top of the valley the track widened, and Marga urged Lossie up level with Tamzin. ‘Moonlight really is lovely,’ she said. ‘I’ve been watching him; the way he moves. He’s beautiful. And I thought you said you were a beginner? You don’t look like one to me!’
‘Don’t I?’ Tamzin blinked. ‘Oh… well, thanks.’ Then she added honestly, ‘Though I can’t jump yet. Joel says he’ll start teaching me when the days get a bit longer and there’s more time.’
‘Mmm.’ Marga paused. ‘Joel’s nice, isn’t he? From what you said, I thought he would be. I like Mrs Richards too; she’s very kind.’ Then her face clouded. ‘That reminds me – you know you said I could come for tea at your house later? Well, I asked Mum but she said no, because I’ve got to be home early. I’m really sorry. I would have loved to, but…’ She shrugged. ‘Mum can be a bit funny like that.’
‘Oh, what a shame.’ Tamzin’s jealous feelings turned suddenly to sympathy. It sounded as if Marga’s mother didn’t want Marga to make new friends. If she did have lots of money perhaps it had gone to her head and she thought she was too good for ‘ordinary’ people in the village? If that was true, then Tamzin could hardly blame Marga for trying to grab friendships wherever she could. ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she added aloud. ‘Maybe another day?’
‘Maybe.’ But Marga had turned her head away.
They reached the road, crossed it and cantered for a while over a stretch of heathery ground where some old tin-mine workings had once been. The tall chimneys and broken stone walls of the abandoned mine buildings – called engine houses, Tamzin had learned from Nan – rose starkly ahead of them against the sky and, as they drew closer, they could hear the wind whistling and hooting through the gaping door and window spaces. There was a spatter of fine rain in the wind, and Joel halted Jester and stared towards the south-west.
‘I think we might be in for some heavy squalls later,’ he said. ‘Better not stay out too long or we could get soaked.’
‘I ought to start home anyway,’ said Marga. She looked at her watch. ‘It’ll take me at least half an hour and it’s nearly three o’clock now.’
‘OK. How about one good gallop then call it quits?’ Joel pointed to a fairly straight path that led away from the engine houses. ‘That track comes out by Place Farm, and it’s easy to get back to the road from there.’ He shortened his reins and Jester danced eagerly as he felt it. ‘Race you!’
Jester sprang away and a second later Marga and Lossie were off in pursuit. But Tamzin held back. Jester and Lossie were both bigger and faster than Moonlight. She couldn’t keep up with them and she didn’t want to try. She watched the two horses racing along the track. Marga certainly was a good rider; every bit as good as Joel. She had nearly caught up with him already, and Tamzin could hear their laughter above the noise of the wind and their mounts’ drumming hooves.
‘Oh, Moonlight.’ She reached down and stroked the white pony’s neck. ‘I’m being stupid, aren’t I? Why shouldn’t Joel and Marga get on? I just feel…’ But she didn’t quite know what she felt so the words tailed off in a sigh.
Moonlight turned to look at her and let out a long snort. Then he raised his head and tugged gently against the reins.
‘Do you want to go after them? All right. I suppose we should. Come on, then. But I’m not even going to try to race.’
Moonlight snorted again then gave a low, gentle whicker, as if he was trying to tell her that he understood. Tamzin shortened her reins, touched her heels to the pony’s sides, and they set off at a canter after Joel and Marga.
As Tamzin and Joel rode back to the stables Joel was full of admiration for Lossie. ‘He’s a fantastic horse,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I mean, Jester’s fast, but Lossie – he beat me easily! Of course, having a really good rider helps.’
‘So Marga’s better than you, then?’ Tamzin was feeling ruffled again, despite her efforts not to.
‘I didn’t say that. But she’s very good. And a nice person too. With her around, I think the Fun Day’s going to live up to its name!’
Tamzin blinked and stared between Moonlight’s ears at the track ahead. Dusk was gathering and as the stables came in sight she said, ‘Do you mind if I go straight home? Nan might be wondering where I’ve got to.’
‘What?’ Joel wasn’t really listening. ‘Oh – oh, sure.’ He frowned at her. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Of course I am. I just don’t want to worry Nan, that’s all.’
‘All right. We’ll ride on to Chapel Cottage and I can lead Moonlight home.’
They didn’t say much more as the ponies walked on down the track. Lights were shining from Chapel Cottage’s windows, and at the garden gate Tamzin slid from Moonlight’s back and handed Joel the reins.
‘Coming up tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘Yes. If that’s OK.’
‘Of course it is. We can make some more plans for the Fun Day. Marga said she might be able to ride over again. She’ll phone from a call box and let me know.’
‘Oh,’ said Tamzin, and thought: So you gave her your number, did you?
‘Bye, then,’ Joel added cheerfully. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yes. Bye.’
She didn’t stay to watch Joel and the ponies disappear into the gathering gloom, but hurried to the house. Nan was in the kitchen, and looked up with a smile. ‘Hello, love. Had a nice day?’
Tamzin very much wanted to say no, she hadn’t, and tell Nan why. But even as she opened her mouth, something made her stop. What did she really have to be jealous about? Joel had a perfect right to be friends with Marga if he wanted to. If Tamzin sulked about it, then she might end up losing both their friendships and she would only have herself to blame. She was being silly and she must stop it right now, and cheer up.
She smiled back at Nan and said, really trying to mean it, ‘Lovely, thanks.’
‘Good.’ Nan’s eyes were very shrewd and there was a faint twinkle in them, as if she had guessed a little of what was going on in Tamzin’s mind. But she didn’t say any more and Tamzin headed for the stairs to have a shower before tea.
‘And now the shipping forecast, issued by the Met. Office at oh-seven-one-five today, the twenty-fourth of December. There are warnings of gales in Biscay, Fitzroy, Sole, Lundy, Fastnet…’
Tamzin was eating breakfast cereal at the kitchen table when she heard what the radio announcer was saying. She glanced up quickly and looked out at the windy garden. ‘Nan… That’s our area, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, love,’ said Nan. ‘But gales aren’t unusual at this time of year.’
‘I know. All the same…’ Tamzin shivered. ‘I’ve just got a funny feeling about it. Sort of churning, inside.’ A sudden violent gust of wind made the back door rattle. ‘I could hear the sea from my bedroom when I woke up. It sounds so wild.’
‘Mmm.’ Nan’s face was thoughtful. ‘Well, my best advice is try to think about something else.’ She smiled. ‘It’s Christmas Eve and there’s lots to do before tomorrow. We’re going to decorate the tree later, aren’t we? And then I’ve got certain things to wrap up that you don’t know about!’
Tamzin grinned back, relaxing a little. ‘Me too!’ She scraped the last spoonful of cereal from her bowl. ‘I can hardly believe it’s already a week since school broke up. Christmas has come so fast!’
‘You wait till you get to my age,’ said Nan sagely. ‘Time really flies then. Finished your breakfast? Right, come on. Let’s go and find the box of tree decorations.’
&nbs
p; As the morning went on Tamzin gradually began to forget her disquiet in the fun of preparing for Christmas Day. Earlier in the week she and Nan had spent a day shopping in Truro and, as well as all the festive food, they had bought a two-metre tall tree, which they had brought home strapped to the little car’s roof rack. The tree was now set up in a corner of the sitting room. It looked splendid even without any decorations, and the room was filled with its heady scent.
Nan arranged the fairy lights and Tamzin sorted through the baubles while Baggins ‘killed’ strands of tinsel. Outside the wind was getting stronger. Tamzin remembered the shipping forecast and tried not to listen to the increasing noise. But by the time the tree was half finished, the wind was booming up the valley in a full gale, battering the garden and pushing against the cottage with terrific force. She glanced nervously towards the window and saw that rain had turned the whole outside world to a threatening grey blur.
Grey… Tamzin shivered as if someone had pressed a piece of ice against the back of her neck. She met Nan’s gaze. Nan didn’t say anything but went to switch the radio on. Carols were playing. The sound masked the wind’s booming but still Tamzin could feel her nerves becoming tighter with every minute. Even Baggins seemed disturbed. He had stopped chasing tinsel and gone to his basket near the fireplace, curling up in a circle with his tail over his eyes.
Then the lamps dimmed suddenly and the radio blanked out for a moment.
‘Oh-oh,’ said Nan. ‘Looks as if we might be in for a power cut. Tamzin, love, get some candles out of the sideboard, would you? Just –’
She had been about to say ‘just in case’, but before she could finish there was a colossal flash of light. Tamzin screamed with shock, and Baggins shot out of his basket and hid behind the sofa. Seconds later came the crash and roll of thunder, so loud that Tamzin’s second scream was completely blotted out.
‘Oh, Nan!’ she wailed as the thunder rumbled away into the distance.
‘It’s all right, love, it’s all right.’ Nan came to her and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Are you scared of thunder?’
Sea Horses: the Talisman Page 3