The Lighthouse

by Amy Cross

  “I really just wanted to help Colin out.”

  “Yeah, well...” He grabs the headset and places it over my ears. “To be honest, I'd be glad if someone else started doing calls to the company. I've been trying to get Colin to do them for months, but he always insists it has to be me.”

  “He does?” I ask, surprised by that claim.

  “Get on with it,” he adds, patting my shoulder before heading to the kitchen at the far side of the room. “Go on, you'll be fine. I'll get the kettle on while you're at it. Just don't expect them to be too chatty. The people in the mainland office tend to view us as an unnecessary complication.”

  Turning to the radio, I study the dials for a moment longer before flicking a switch and raising the microphone to my lips.

  “This is Culthorpe lighthouse,” I say cautiously, “calling... the mainland? Yeah, calling the mainland. Can anyone hear me?”

  I wait, and after a moment I hear a clicking sound in the static. “Hello Culthorpe,” a Scottish woman's voice says finally. “This is Laura at the office, what can I help you with?”

  I glance at Matthew and he gives me a thumbs up as he makes tea.

  “I'm just calling in an order,” I continue, turning back to the radio. It's hard to believe this is actually working, but I figure I need to sound like I know what I'm doing. “Um, there are a few things we need on the next supply boat, just some items for repairing parts of the generator.”

  “Are you the new girl?” the woman asks.

  “Penny,” I reply. “I arrived yesterday.”

  “And you've stuck it out for a whole day? Wonders'll never cease.” I hear the sound of her bumping around. “Alright,” she adds with a sigh, “I can't promise anything, but we'll try to get what you need. You got a list ready?”

  “Sure,” I tell her, feeling a flash of relief that I'm actually being useful. “I'll read it out to you, okay?”

  ***

  “Colin's a classic case of someone disappearing up his own backside,” Matthew says a few minutes later, once I've finished with the radio and I've joined him in the kitchen. “Nice enough guy, wouldn't hurt a fly, but day by day, hour by hour he just fades away a little bit more.”

  I raise the cup to my lips and blow to get rid of some steam. “Is he not suited to life out here?”

  He laughs. “Suited? Who the hell is suited to living on a little rock at the edge of the Atlantic, spending all day trying to make a bloody great big lamp keep running?” He takes a sip of tea. “It takes a special kind of nutter to come out here but, like I told you last night, you can make it work if you really knuckle down. The thing with Colin is that he's been here a long time now, almost as long as me, and sometimes I think he's just waiting to fade away completely. Have you seen all those journals he keeps?”

  I nod. “He seems to be maintaining a pretty meticulous set of notes.”

  “Bloody hell,” Matthew continues, rolling his eyes. “Who wants to record every boring detail of every boring day around this place? Come on, let me show you something...” Stepping past me, he grabs my arm and pulls me past the counter, almost making me spill my tea in the process. “You're gonna love this,” he adds as he leads me up away from the makeshift kitchen area. “I reckon it'll serve as a warning to you, so you know not to end up like him.”

  He lets go of my arm when we reach the other side of the living area, and I watch as he hurries to Colin's section.

  “Doesn't he mind you going through his stuff?” I ask cautiously, watching as Matthew climbs over Colin's bed, stepping on the clean sheets with his chunky black boots, and starts checking the journals on the shelves.

  “Don't worry, he doesn't know. He'll be down at the generator all day.”

  “Still, you shouldn't -”

  “Come and look at this one,” he continues, interrupting me. Opening one of the journals, he steps onto the bed once more with his muddy boots and then jumps back down to the floor, leaving crumbs of dirt all over Colin's sheets. “This one blows my bloody mind, it's where he just records every boring little detail about the weather. I mean, for God's sake, the weather! What the hell goes through that guy's mind, eh?”

  Although I'm reluctant to join Matthew in snooping through Colin's possessions, I peer at the journal as he comes over to join me. Sure enough, the pages have been neatly divided into various columns, detailing changes in the island's weather on an hour-by-hour basis, seemingly stretching back for years. As Matthew turns through a few more of the pages, I can't help but wonder what would make anyone keep such detailed records. To be honest, with behavior like this, it's almost as if Colin is somewhere pretty far along the autism scale.

  “And this is just the one about weather,” he continues. “Some of those other journals are about food, like what we eat and drink, and he's got more about clothes and other stuff. Wouldn't surprise me if he's got one about the loo as well.”

  “Clothes?” I ask.

  “Probably even down to what pants we're wearing,” he replies, turning and climbing over the bed again. He sets the first journal back and then pulls out another, before opening it to find one of the pages around the middle. “Alright,” he continues, “listen to this. It's from last night. He's noted down that when he first met you, you were wearing a red sweater and blue jeans, with light brown boots, and you had a little silver necklace on. Your hair was tied back, and you didn't have any make-up.”

  “He wrote all that about me?” I ask, genuinely a little creeped out.

  “I didn't even notice any of that stuff,” he continues. “Don't worry, he's done it about me too. Apparently I was wearing a brown shirt and black trousers. Was I?” He frowns, turning to me. “God, I don't pay attention to any of that stuff at all. You wanna be careful when you're in the shower, just in case he decides to start keeping records about that.”

  “I guess he has nothing else to do with his time,” I mutter.

  “He's not dangerous,” Matthew adds, slipping the journal back into place and then clambering over the bed again, this time knocking the pillow to the floor. “He's not creepy or anything like that, you won't actually catch him watching you while you're on the loo or anything like that. It's just like I said earlier, he's going inward, he's disappearing into all the boring stuff and that is something you need to avoid. Treat him as a cautionary example. Trust me, it's hard enough dealing with one Colin round here, I really don't want you going the same way.”

  “Don't worry about that,” I reply. “I want to work.”

  “Yeah, well... Not every day'll be as full on as today,” he continues. “Sometimes a week goes by without us needing to do anything. As long as that big old lamp keeps turning above us, no-one gives a damn what we do with the rest of our time. Not even the company. Hell, they don't even keep proper records of who's here and who's not, not as far as I can tell, anyway. They just take grants from the council to maintain the place, and as long as they make a hefty profit they don't give a damn. There's not even -”

  Before he can finish, there's a loud bump from above and we both look up toward the ceiling.

  “What was that?” I ask cautiously.

  “Probably just -”

  Suddenly the bump comes again, this time followed by what sounds like several footsteps making their way up the stairs near the top of the lighthouse.

  I turn to Matthew. “Who's up there?”

  “No-one,” he replies, although I can tell he's a little worried. “Colin's still at the generator.”

  We wait, and sure enough there's the sound of more footsteps, this time leading further up as if they're heading toward the lamp-room at the very top.

  “There's someone in here,” I whisper, turning to Matthew. “I told you I saw a woman last night, out there in one of the clearings!” Pausing, I realize that my feel feels like it's spinning. I honestly can't work out whether I'm losing my mind or not, but if Matthew heard the bumps just now, that means they have to be real.

  “There's no-one
else on the island,” he replies, stepping past me and heading to the bottom of the stairs. He looks up for a moment, and finally we both hear a faint, distant creaking sound, as if someone just opened the door that leads into the lamp-room. After a moment, he turns to me. “Wait here. I'll go and take a look, just to make sure. It's probably the wind or something.”

  He starts making his way up the stairs, but when I hurry after him he turns and puts his hands out to stop me. I can't help noticing that in doing so, he brushes his fingers lightly against my chest. I pull back slightly, to break contact.

  “Wait here,” he says firmly.

  “I'm coming with you.”

  “Best to just let me look, yeah?”

  “There's only one way up or down, isn't there?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but -”

  “So if there is someone up there,” I continue, “it might not be safe. With two of us blocking the way, we can corner whoever it is.”

  “I told you,” he replies, sounding a little agitated, “there's no way anyone else is on the island. Do you seriously think Colin and I wouldn't have noticed, and that you spotted the bugger after a few hours? Come on, give me and him at least some credit. We're not complete idiots.”

  “Neither am I,” I point out, “and I know what I heard just now. Someone else is in here.”

  He pauses, before turning and making his way up the stairs. “Just keep behind me, then. And no screaming just 'cause a door creaks open. I hate screams.”

  Following him up, I can't help waiting for another bump or more footsteps. I keep telling myself that there could be another explanation, that maybe the wind just happened to create a series of noises in such a way as to make them sound like there's someone waiting for us, but at the same time I know deep down that the sound was too clear for it to be anything else. When Matthew reaches the hatch that leads into the lamp-room and climbs through, I genuinely tense a little as I wait for him to call out to whoever he's found.

  When I climb through and find that the room is empty, I immediately look toward the door that leads out to the walkway. The intruder has to be out there now, it's the only possibility.

  “See?” Matthew asks, turning to me with a hint of relief in his voice. “There's no-one here. Maybe a bird got in or something.”

  “What about out there?” I ask, nodding toward the door.

  “Penny...”

  “You heard that noise too,” I say firmly. “We have to check properly.”

  Sighing, he heads over and struggles for a moment with the handle, before finally getting the door open. “Jesus, it's cold out there,” he mutters.

  Joining him in the doorway, I can't help but shiver as misty air hits my body, easily slipping through my clothes. I take a step out onto the walkway, but the mist is too thick for me to really be able to see anything apart from the glow of the light beam as it rotates above us, cutting through the mist with ease. Looking along the curved walkway, I can barely see much more than a couple of feet, and it's almost like we're high up on this tower, looking out over the space where the rest of the world used to be. A moment later I actually jump slightly as Matthew comes up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “See?” he says with a nervous smile. “There's no-one.”

  “You go that way,” I tell him,” and I'll go this way, and if there's no-one out here we'll meet on the -”

  “Penny...”

  “We'll meet on the other side,” I continue. “Come on, if there was someone up here, they have to be nearby.”

  “And when we don't find anyone,” he replies, “then what? What do I win for being right?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter, before leaning past him and shutting the door. It's so cold out here, I have to start rubbing my arms to keep warm. “Come on, it'll take a minute at most. If you so sure you're right, what's the harm?”

  “Fine,” he replies, turning and heading along the walkway. “Hey, is someone up here? Come out, wherever you are, the game's up!”

  I watch as he follows the walkway around the curve of the lighthouse. Even before he's managed more than a few paces, he's already begun to fade into the mist, becoming little more than a blurry smudge and finally disappearing entirely. Turning, I glance the other way and listen to the sound of Matthew's footsteps clanging against the metal, and then I set off to go around and, in theory, meet him on the other side. Still, shivering as I walk, I feel certain that we heard the sound of an actual person up here, and I keep my eyes fixed on the mist ahead, waiting for a figure to come into view.

  “Found anything yet?” Matthew's voice calls out.

  “Not yet!”

  I can tell he's not taking this seriously, but a moment later I spot a dark shape up ahead and I realize that we've come all the way around and not found anyone. Sure enough, a few seconds later Matthew steps into view with his arms out wide, as if to emphasize the fact that we're alone up here.

  “Now what?” he asks. “Do you wanna climb right up onto the top of the lamp, just to make sure there's no bugger lurking up there?”

  “We both heard it,” I point out.

  “We both heard something,” he replies, “but as for what it was...” He shrugs. “Unless you wanna start believing in ghosts, you're gonna have to accept that it was just something mundane that sounded kinda freaky by accident.”

  “There's no -”

  “And there's a storm coming,” he adds, suddenly stepping closer until he's almost pressed against me, forcing me to edge back toward the railing, “and do you know what that means? It means there's gonna be wind and rain, and there's gonna be things banging about all over the place, and it's gonna get real tiring real fast if you're constantly acting like there's ghosts everywhere. 'Cause I've been here long enough, and Colin has too, to know that there's no such thing.” He pauses, as if he's waiting for me to admit that I'm wrong. “At least there's no such thing at Culthorpe,” he adds finally, before forcing a smile and patting my shoulder, “so let's get ready for the bad weather tonight and just chill, yeah? It's gonna be your first proper storm in a lighthouse. How many people can say they ever get to experience something like that, eh?”

  He squeezes my shoulder before turning and heading back along the walkway, quickly disappearing into the mist. A moment later, still a little startled by the sudden change in his demeanor, I hear the door being opened.

  “Come on!” he calls back to me. “We've got work to do before this storm hits! We can't spend the whole day fannying about!”

  “Sure,” I reply, a little feebly. Still shivering cold, I look over my shoulder, and I half expect to see some other figure loitering in the mist. At the same time, I'm starting to think that no matter how much I think I heard footsteps a few minutes ago, maybe I was wrong after all. It's not like someone could have been up here one moment, and then gone the next without passing us on the stairs. I guess maybe that time alone in the house, before I came to Culthorpe, left me extra jumpy. I just have to focus on the mental exercises I learned years ago at the treatment center, and remind myself that occasional small lapses are totally manageable.

  As I head back to the door, I look over the railing, hoping to see the island spread out below. Unfortunately, the mist is so thick I can't make out a thing. Sometimes, it feels as if the rest of the world really has disappeared.

  Chapter Twelve

  One month earlier

  As soon as I open my eyes, I hear it again.

  A faint creak outside my room, as if someone is walking very slowly along the landing.

  I stay completely still, on my side in the bed and in complete darkness. I've heard the creaking sound twice over the past few seconds, but I'm certain it must have started a little earlier and woke me up. My heart is pounding and I'm scared to make a move, but finally I roll onto my back and wait.

  The only light in the room comes from window, where a nearby streetlight is casting a faint orange glow across the far wall and the door, complete with the shadow of
a tree.

  Even Mel wouldn't wait this long to play a trick on me.

  All those little bumps I've been hearing this evening, they can't be her.

  Finally I realize I'm holding my breath. I inhale as quietly as I can, while waiting for any hint of movement in the house. If there's a burglar, I figure my best bet is to climb out the window and hope I don't break my ankles jumping down into the front garden, but then again any burglar probably knows I'm here already. I run through my bedtime routine in my mind, but I'm certain I locked and bolted all the windows and doors. Then again, maybe a window was broken and that's why I woke up a moment ago.

  Several minutes pass, but the sound doesn't return. I turn and look toward the door, but all I can see is the faintest rectangular outline. This is my third night alone in the house and although I've been finding it creepy, I haven't actually heard anything more than a few bumps now and again. The doctor always said that I might have periods when I relapsed slightly, that the pills could never be completely effective, so I guess that's all that has been happening. I just need to stay strong.

  After a few more minutes, I sit up in bed.

  This is ridiculous. There's no-one here.

  Getting to my feet, I head over to the door and listen for a moment longer. There's still a part of me that worries about burglars, but I'm starting to feel more and more convinced that I imagined those creaking sounds. Forcing myself to not be an idiot, I open the door and feel a flash of relief when I see that there's no-one on the dark landing, and that all the other doors are shut, just as I left them when I came to bed a few hours ago. All the doors in this house creak so much, there's no way any of them could have been opened without making a noise.

  Figuring that I need a glass of water, I pull my door shut and head downstairs, not even bothering to switch on any of the lights. I check all the doors and windows, of course, and I quickly find that there's no way anyone could have got inside. I feel kind of dumb now for letting myself get so easily spooked, and by the time I get to the kitchen I can't help but smile. I guess it's human nature for the mind to magnify any little sound, and I tell myself I should totally call Mel tomorrow and tell her all about how I got freaked out. She'd laugh her ass off if she could see me with -