The Lighthouse

by Amy Cross

  “I'm not sure -” Feeling a little embarrassed, I look down at my bottle of beer, and I swear I think I'm blushing. Damn it, if Mel could see me now...

  “Relax,” Matthew adds, patting my shoulder as he sets his bottle down and heads to the stairs. “I'm off to use the men's room. Or I suppose we should call it the bathroom now, on account of you being a girl. Gonna have to make some changes. I promise I'll always put the toilet seat down, yeah? If you ever find it up, blame Colin. Same with splashes.”

  As he stomps down the stairs, I take a look at the books on the kitchen counter and find that they're mostly just old recipe books. I flip through a couple of them, before glancing across the room and seeing that Colin is still writing in the journal. We were introduced when he came inside a few hours ago, and he was polite, but I could tell that he didn't really have any interest in a big conversation. Matthew has been trying to get the party started, setting up music and fetching extra supplies from the storeroom, but Colin has resolutely failed to respond, seemingly preferring to sit on his bed and work on the journal. I'm far from the most outgoing person in the world, but after a moment I realize that maybe it'd be good to try talking to him again now that Matthew is out of the room.

  After all, Matthew is very... loud. He definitely dominates any conversation he's a part of.

  I take another sip of beer as I make my way across the room. Colin hasn't looked up yet; either he hasn't noticed me approaching, or he's hoping I won't actually try to talk to him. As I reach the end of his bed, I watch as he adds more lines of spidery handwriting to the journal, and then suddenly he looks up at me with a cautious, almost worried expression in his eyes. He seems a little older than me, perhaps even a few years old than Matthew, and he has dark shadows under his eyes, giving him an expression of perpetual worry.

  “Hey,” I say with a smile, “I just... I guess I just wondered what you were up to.”

  He stares at me for a moment, as if he doesn't know what to say, and then he looks down at the journal.

  “Sorry,” I continue, “I didn't mean to disturb you.” Damn it, this was a mistake. I should have stayed on the other side of the room.

  “It's fine,” he mutters, his voice barely rising above the sound of the music. “I was just... I like to keep a record of everything and...” He continues for a moment, but his voice has become little more than a faint mumble now.

  “Like technical things?” I ask.

  He shrugs, still staring down at the journal. “Other stuff too.”

  “It looks very detailed,” I continue, glancing over at a nearby set of shelves and seeing twenty or thirty other volumes neatly stacked up, along with assorted other notebooks and scraps of paper. “Have you been doing this ever since you first came to the lighthouse?”

  “I like to keep a record,” he says again, with a hint of confusion in his voice, as if he himself isn't quite sure what he's saying or why. After a moment, he looks up at me again. “It's so easy to forget things, and you never know when something might turn out to be important. It might seem like nothing at the time, but...”

  His voice trails off for a moment.

  “I'm sorry,” he adds, “what did you say your name was again?”

  “Penny,” I reply. “Penny Lewis.”

  He turns back a page in the journal, as if he's looking for something. “Oh yeah,” he mutters. “I put it in here already. I'll have to add you to the index.”

  “You have an index?”

  “I have to keep track of everything,” he explains, his voice a little blank and flat. “I never know when I might need to refer back to something, so everyone and everything has a place in the index. That way, I can find them in the journal if...” He pauses, as if he's finding it hard to talk to me. “You don't mind, do you?”

  “Of course not,” I reply, feeling a little sorry for him. He seems so desperately keen to keep everything recorded in these books, as if it's the most important thing in the world. “I'd like to read them some time.”

  “They're not very interesting.”

  “Still -”

  “I like to keep them in order,” he adds, interrupting me. “I don't like them being opened too much, in case the pages fall out.”

  “Okay,” I reply, realizing that he really doesn't want me to take a look. “That's fine. I understand.” I try to think of something else to say, before deciding that maybe retreat would be the best option. I turn to walk away.

  “Why are you here?” he asks suddenly.

  “Well, I...” Pausing, I can't shake the feeling that he phrased that question strangely, almost as if it was a challenge. Then again, I always find it hard to work out what people really mean, so I guess I'm just misinterpreting again. “I needed a job,” I tell him, “and I wanted to get away for a while, and I've never minded being in quiet places, so I thought this sounded like it might be fun.”

  He stares at me, his face bathed in colors from the fairy lights.

  “Well,” I add, “I mean -”

  Suddenly I hear the sound of Matthew running back up the stairs, and a wave of relief washes over me. I'm sure Colin is perfectly nice, but he definitely seems intense and almost abrasive. Turning, I see that Matthew has brought up a new stack of CDs, and he's already spreading them out on one of the tables so he can sort through them. The jewel cases clatter against one another, and I can't help but notice that everything Matthew does seems so loud, as if he feels the need to dominate every room he enters. At the same time, I think he simply has a kind of childish enthusiasm for everything, and he definitely reminds me of some of the guys I knew back at uni, even if he's a good decade older than any of them.

  “Now some of these are pretty ancient,” he explains excitedly as I head over to join him, “they're just a few that I brought with me when I came here.” He holds up a couple of cases so I can see the covers. “Stereophonics, yeah? And Morrissey? Are they still the biggest bands?”

  “There might have been a few changes over the years,” I point out.

  “Did you bring any with you?”

  “Sorry. I brought a lot of books, though.”

  As he hurries to the CD player and starts changing the music, I find myself smiling at his enthusiasm. He turns the volume up as the next song starts playing, and even though it's still only 7pm, he clearly wants to use my arrival as an excuse for a night of celebrations. I watch as he starts dancing over to the far side of the room, where he's already set out some food so we can start cooking, and it's almost as if he's still stuck in the old days of student life. I always thought I'd have moved on by this point in my life, that I'd be living more sensibly, but I guess life out here in the lighthouse might not be quite how I'd expected.

  It's like being back in the house again.

  Chapter Six

  One months ago

  Opening my eyes in the dark bedroom, I realize I can hear the sound of Mel throwing up in the bathroom. I roll onto my back and listen for a moment, but I know from the past three years that she doesn't appreciate anyone offering to help.

  Hearing a faint creaking sound outside my door, I turn and wait. I guess one of the guys must be out there, probably waiting to use the bathroom once Mel's finished.

  “I think she'll be a while,” I call out.

  I wait for a reply, but there's nothing. A moment later, I hear the floorboards creak again.

  Climbing out of bed, I make my way across the room and pull the door open.

  “I think she'll be a -”

  Stopping, I find that there's no-one on the landing. From downstairs, there's the sound of our two male housemates arguing over the Playstation game. I wait for a moment, wondering if maybe someone else came back from the club, but finally I figure the creak must just have been a freak noise and I head back to bed. Just as I'm climbing back under the duvet, however, my phone buzzes, and when I tilt the screen I see that I've received an email about my latest job application.

  When I open the message, I'm immed
iately shocked by what it says.

  Chapter Seven

  Today

  “Think about it,” Matthew continues, his breath visible in the cold night air as we sit outside the lamp-room at the top of the lighthouse, staring out at the dark sea. “There are boats out there. Not many, but occasionally one'll come close enough to see our light and they all rely on us to keep us safe. We're actually doing a pretty important job, you know.”

  Leaning forward and trying not to shiver, I peer through the metal railing and look down at the rocks far below, glistening in the moonlight. As I do so, the lamp comes around, briefly illuminating the scene as a beam of light is blasted out into the darkness. The rocks look so dark and deadly, like jagged edges waiting for some unsuspecting boat to run aground. As the lamp continues to turn, darkness returns to this side of the island and the rocks fade out of view.

  “Are you cold?” Matthew asks.

  “I'm fine.”

  I lean back and take another sip from my beer. It's the same bottle I've been nursing all night; after all, the last thing I want is to get drunk, especially on my first night. My student days are over, and I don't miss the endless nights of beer and clubs. With music still blaring up from deeper inside the lighthouse, I'm struck by how remote we are, how far from any other sign of civilization.

  “Are you ever not fine?” Matthew asks suddenly.

  I turn to him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you always say you're fine, it's your answer to pretty much every question. Don't you wanna be more than fine? Don't you wanna be good, or great, or fantastic or wonderful or ecstatic?”

  “I'm fine,” I reply, before realizing that I've done it again. “I'm just getting along.”

  “Colin's fine,” he mutters. “Boring old...” He pauses, eying me with a hint of a smile. “I'm glad you came, Penny. It's good to have someone else here, some fresh blood. If I'm completely honest, Colin was starting to get on my nerves a bit. It's exhausting trying to get him talking all the time. The man tends to utter one word for every hundred of mine. To be honest, living around him has turned me into a bit of a chatterbox.”

  “Has he let you read his journals?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “It's kind of cool that he writes them,” I point out. “I guess he -” Pausing, I realize that there's a new intensity to Matthew's gaze. “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “Well...” I take a deep breath. “I mean, I guess living out here can make you kind of -”

  Suddenly Matthew leans toward me and pushes his lips against mine, while placing a hand on my waist. It takes a moment before I realize that he's trying to kiss me, and I pull back, shocked. He stares at me for a moment, before trying again, and this time I turn my head and then shuffle away slightly, trying not to let him see that I'm trembling. That was by far the last thing I expected.

  “Sorry,” he says, with a startled look in his eyes, “I didn't...” He sighs. “Oh God, I'm really, really sorry.”

  “It's fine,” I tell him, although I have to stare down at my shoes. Eye contact would be way too embarrassing right now.

  “I didn't mean to do that,” he continues. “Please, you have to believe me, it was just a stupid, spur-of-the-moment thing, I'm not like that at all.”

  “It's fine.” My heart is pounding and I just want to go inside and get to bed, but I guess that'd just make things more awkward in the morning. Better to stay up a little longer and make a joke of it. Damn it, no-one's ever made a move on me before, not like that.

  “It's just that I've been out here so long,” he explains, with a hint of desperation in his voice, “and you're the first girl I've seen in ages, and... I mean, it's nothing personal, I think I'd try to kiss anything female right now, even a fish, I'm -” He pauses. “Oh God, no, that sounded all wrong. You're really pretty, Penny, you don't look anything like a fish, I just -”

  “It's fine,” I say again, hoping he'll just up. I must be blushing like a tomato by now.

  “Oh, I've screwed up,” Matthew says with a sigh. “I thought... I don't know what I thought, maybe I didn't think at all.”

  I force myself to glance at him as the light comes around again, and I see that he's leaning back with his head resting against the curved wall and with his eyes closed.

  “It's fine,” I tell him.

  He opens his eyes, and I immediately look down at my bottle of beer. I need to finish this and then just go inside.

  We sit in silence for a moment. The only sound is the music from down below and the noise from the lamp's gears, as well as the faint rustle of waves washing over the rocks directly below us.

  “Have you ever had a proper boyfriend?” Matthew asks finally.

  “Yeah,” I reply, starting to peel the label off my bottle. “No. I don't know. Sort of.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn't ask stuff like that.”

  More silence. I swear, this is now quite possibly the most embarrassing situation of my entire life. It's even worse than the time my friend Laura tried to touch my boob and it turned out she'd misinterpreted a bunch of signals. Sometimes I think human communication is so complicated and prone to confusion, it's better to avoid it as much as possible. The subtle stuff, at least. Better to communicate in big, broad gestures that get the basic message across.

  “Do you hate me now?” Matthew asks.

  Turning to him, I'm finally able to look him in the eye again. “No,” I reply, forcing a smile, “I don't hate you, I just... I came out here to get away from things, you know?”

  “Absolutely. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again.”

  “Thanks. It's not that I'm not flattered, I just...” I pause, trying to work out how much I can tell him. After all, he probably thinks I'm some kind of frigid freak now, but I really don't think I can explain everything about myself and why I'm this way.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  Above us, the lamp swings around again, casting its beam of light way out to sea.

  “Tomorrow's a new day,” I say finally. “It's been fun this evening, but I guess tomorrow we have to get to work. I'm assuming life out here isn't always just about drinking, eating and partying?”

  He smiles. “Definitely not. We run a lean, mean operation at Culthorpe. Tonight was a one-off. Well, maybe not a complete one-off, we like to have a good time but generally...” He sighs. “I'm not a dick. I swear, I'll prove it eventually but for now you just have to believe me.”

  “I believe you,” I tell him with a smile, before turning and crawling along the curved walkway until I can see out over part of the moonlit island. I feel as if I want to change the subject, and a moment later the lamp turns and swings its beam over me, bringing just enough light to allow me to see the dark shape of the island against the night sea. All I can make out are trees and bushes, and maybe a vague rectangular shape at the far end which I guess is the generator building.

  A moment later, the lamp turns away, shrouding everything in darkness again. The moonlight catches just the tips of the trees, but nothing more.

  “It looks really beautiful here,” I say after a moment, just about able to see my own breath in the cold air. “I'm really looking forward to exploring.”

  “I guess,” Matthew replies, still sitting over by the door. “The weather can get pretty bad, though.”

  “I don't mind that.” I wait for the lamp to come around again, and a moment later I get another glimpse of the island. I know I'm probably being overly romantic, but there's a part of me that really likes the idea of exploring such a rugged, unspoiled landscape and -

  Suddenly I spot a dark figure down there, standing in a clearing several hundred feet away, seemingly staring up at me.

  I open my mouth to say something, but the lamp has already swung around, plunging the scene back into darkness. I wait, telling myself that I just imagined the whole thing and that the last thing I want is to make Matthew think I'm an idiot. My
heart is racing, however, as I wait for the lamp to come around to this side again. Any second now...

  “Hey,” I say after a moment, trying to sound casual, “Colin's still downstairs, isn't he?”

  “Sadly,” Matthew mutters.

  “But he's still inside?”

  “I guess. Why?”

  I wait a few more seconds, and finally the light comes back around. At first I'm relieved when I realize that the figure has disappeared, but then I spot it in another clearing, close to the lighthouse. To my shock, I realize it's walking this way, but the light fades again before I have a chance to see any of its features. I pause for a moment, telling myself that it's just another hallucination, but it seems different.

  “There's someone out there,” I stammer, turning to Matthew.

  He takes a sip of beer and smiles. “Oh yeah?”

  “I saw someone! I think it was a woman!”

  He stares at me for a moment, before chuckling at something. “Nice try, Penny. You'll have to -”

  “I saw someone!” I tell him again, before setting my beer down and hurrying to the door. Without waiting for Matthew to reply, I run down the steps as fast as I can manage, and when I get to the main room I'm shocked to see that Colin is still sitting on his bed, still writing in the journal.

  After a moment, he turns to me.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to reply, but my heart is pounding. There's no way anyone could have got into the lighthouse and up here in the time it's taken me to get down from the top, which means the person outside can't possibly have been Colin. Hearing footsteps on the stairs behind me, I turn to see Matthew coming down.

  “I saw someone,” I tell him, even though I know there's no way he'll believe me. “Out there on the island, I swear to God there was a woman. She's walking toward us.”

  He frowns. “Penny...”

  “I saw her!” Turning, I head to the next set of stairs and start making my way down through the gloom. I can hear Matthew hurrying after me, but I know full well that there's no point trying to persuade him. When I get to the entrance area at the bottom, I make my way to the door and start pulling the bolt across, and finally I get the door open and step out into the cold night air.