Letters from Lighthouse Cottage

by McNamara, Ali

  Isn’t it funny how we tell things to perfect strangers we meet on trains and buses, I think as I look out of the train window at Newcastle station. Sometimes it’s so much easier to share with a stranger than with the people we’re close to.

  As new passengers get on to the train, another lady sits down in the seat that’s just been vacated opposite me. She’s elderly, and she’s carrying a small wicker basket. Once she’s got herself settled, she opens up the leather catch on the basket and produces a tiny Yorkshire terrier, who immediately snuggles down into her lap.

  ‘Are you OK with dogs?’ she asks, noticing me watching. ‘Dotty is quite friendly.’

  ‘Oh yes, absolutely fine,’ I tell her. ‘I have one of my own at home, Wilson. He’s a lot bigger than yours though, I’d never be able to bring him on a train – he wouldn’t sit still long enough.’

  Wilson hadn’t taken too well to me leaving to go to university. Mum told me he pined terribly to begin with. But now he’s grown used to the fact that I occasionally return home to see him, he isn’t quite so bad and only sulks for the first day after I’ve gone.

  ‘I prefer a little dog,’ the elderly lady says. ‘So much easier for me to deal with.’

  ‘Yes, Wilson can be a bit of a handful.’

  Mum had also told me how much help Charlie had been in looking after Wilson. Apparently, since I’ve been away, he’s come around every day to walk him.

  When Charlie had been recovering from his accident, I would push him along in his hospital wheelchair whenever I took Wilson for a walk, so he wouldn’t feel he was missing out on our regular excursions. We couldn’t quite manage the beach with the chair, but we could walk along the promenade, and then back through the town where the pavements were kind to Charlie’s wheels. Then, when Charlie progressed on to crutches, he would hobble along next to us, pausing occasionally to have a rest while Wilson ran around doing his thing. When finally he was able to walk alongside us like he used to, and we could at last return to our beloved sand, it was the best day – for all of us.

  The lady and her dog change at York, and no one else takes the vacant seat as the train fills and the doors close.

  We stop at York a bit too long for my liking, but nothing is said as to why. I look at my watch and realise we’re now running late. Damn, I have a connection to make at Peterborough that was going to be tight even without this delay. But there’s nothing I can do, except sit tight and hope we’ll make up some time. As I gaze out of the window at the passing scenery my thoughts turn to Charlie; I’ve been so looking forward to seeing him again. Charlie still lives in Sandybridge with his parents. Unlike me, he’d chosen not to continue his education. He could have if he’d opted to retake his exams, but after the accident he seemed even more content than he had been before to stay in our hometown, helping his parents in their little coffee shop, which was still doing well, and was always filled with customers whenever I was there.

  I still felt guilty about what had happened. If only I’d gone after him that night he wouldn’t have got hit by a car, then his life would have turned out as he’d planned. Charlie would be doing what I was now: having a great time at a uni somewhere; partying, meeting new people, and generally enjoying himself while he studied and got a good education. But however much I fretted, Charlie seemed very happy doing what he was doing, and if Charlie was happy, then so was I.

  Eventually we reach Peterborough and my earlier concerns prove correct: I’m too late to make my original connection, so I have to hang around at the busy station waiting for the next Norwich-bound train. Luckily it’s not too long before one arrives, and I manage to squeeze on to it and find a seat before the whole train fills up. I close my eyes and lean my head back against my headrest as the train pulls out of the station; at last I feel as though I’m almost there, home again for Christmas.

  Christmas in Sandybridge, I daydream happily, as memories of past Christmases there pleasantly fill my head. Like most seaside towns so reliant on holidaymakers, Sandybridge is always quiet in the winter months, and with the tourists gone, it’s down to the locals to fill the void they leave behind.

  Personally, I prefer it like that. I’m able to take Wilson for long walks on the beach without having to worry about him stealing picnickers’ sandwiches, or running off with a beach ball. And even when the town’s bereft of its holidaymakers, it’s never drab or dreary – far from it. People come from all the surrounding towns to see Sandybridge’s Christmas lights, we’re famous for them, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing what the town has in store for Santa this year.

  When I reach Norwich I make my final change, and as always I find the train from Norwich to Sandybridge is not only much smaller, but much quieter than my previous two mainline trains. The man opposite me smiles as I sit down, then returns to his book. So, pleased I’m not going to have to make conversation with anyone this time, I relax back into my seat for the last part of my journey. I pull my new Take That CD from my bag and place it into my portable CD player to keep me company. I smile to myself as I put the Tamsin Archer case that had held the boys’ CD back into my bag. Now I’m on my way home to Sandybridge I don’t have to pretend to be the type of person that listens to cool music. I can be myself again.

  ‘Gracie Harper?’ I hear a voice behind my headrest say, just as Gary Barlow is about to croon the first line to ‘A Million Love Songs’.

  I turn around and look up.

  ‘Danny Lucas!’ I say, a little dazed to see him standing above me. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘On my way home for Christmas; I just changed at Norwich from the London train to this one; you must be doing the same?’

  I pull off my headphones to look at him properly, and see his familiar chiselled jawline – but now with a hint of dark stubble across it. His thick, dark mane of hair, but longer and more tousled than I was used to seeing it, and the same disarming smile – that was one thing that hadn’t changed.

  ‘Yes… yes I am.’

  ‘I barely recognised you with your new hair!’ Danny says, gesturing to my elfin crop. ‘What happened to all your lovely tresses? What did I used to call you?’

  ‘Rapunzel,’ I murmur, slightly embarrassed.

  ‘That’s it! So why the short hair – you trying to be all cool and trendy at your fancy uni?’

  ‘I fancied a change, that’s all,’ I tell him. This is a slight fib; what had actually happened was that one of my flatmates and I had tried to cut each other’s hair to save money. Julia’s hadn’t looked at all bad when I’d finished with it, but my hair looked like a drunk Edward Scissorhands had got hold of it. So I was forced to go to a real hairdresser, who offered me the option of a bob to tidy it up, but I decided to go the whole hog and have it all chopped off, something I’d been toying with doing for a while, since I’d seen Demi Moore at the cinema in Ghost.

  The man in the seat opposite me has set down his book and is watching our exchange with interest. ‘Would you two like to sit together?’ he offers. ‘If you like, I can move to those free seats over there.’

  ‘Yes, that would be great!’ Danny says, before I can respond. ‘Cheers, mate.’

  The man collects up his book – according to the cover, it’s The Pelican Brief by John Grisham, but earlier I’d caught sight of a page and discovered he’d wrapped the thriller’s cover around a copy of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus to hide what he was really reading.

  Obviously I wasn’t the only one trying to look cool. Maybe one day someone would invent a device that would prevent anyone knowing what you were reading or listening to. Then you could be uncool to your heart’s content.

  Danny sits down opposite me now the man has vacated his seat.

  ‘So how are you?’ he asks. ‘It’s been a while.’

  It was actually the exact same length of time as I’d spent in Edinburgh. In all the times I’d been home to visit Mum and Dad, I’d never once bumped into Danny while I’d been back in Sandybridge.
I was beginning to think he never came home to visit his family, but I knew that he did. Mrs Lucas had mentioned it to my mother, and Mum had relayed the fact to me when I’d casually enquired about Danny’s movements.

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say, looking across the train table at him, but at the same time trying not to catch his eyes, which seem an even deeper shade of blue today than they were the last time I looked into them.

  ‘Uni going well?’ Danny asks.

  ‘Yes, very well. I’m in my final year now – degrees in Scotland are four years.’

  Danny nods. ‘Yeah, I know, couldn’t be doing with all that extra study. Mine is just the three, I’m down in London.’

  I knew that, but I don’t let on. ‘I’m surprised you wanted to tie yourself down with study at all. I would have thought that once you got out into the world, you’d want to keep on travelling.’

  Danny had decided after his A-levels, which he didn’t do as well in as he’d hoped, that he would take a year out and travel the world, which of course I was insanely jealous of. Partly because his parents were funding most of his trip, but mostly because he was going to leave me behind to do it.

  After his disastrous birthday party at Sandybridge Hall, I’d not wanted anything to do with Danny and I’d deliberately kept my distance from him. Even though he tried desperately to apologise for his actions, saying it was the drink talking, not him, and could we try again, I would have nothing to do with him. Instead I devoted myself to helping Charlie get better. To begin with I would visit him at the hospital every day; when he was discharged, I would go over to his house to help Maggie look after him; and then, once we were allowed out on our own, came our walks with Wilson. I didn’t know who I blamed more for Charlie’s accident: me, Danny or the stupid typewriter – which still sat in my bedroom at home, though it hadn’t been loaded with paper since that fateful day.

  As Charlie got better, my annoyance with Danny began to wane, so much so that when Danny asked me out again just before we started sixth form together, I gave in and agreed to one date. But that one date ended up lasting for the next two years, with our relationship progressing slightly further this time than a quick fumble in a kitchen. Danny Lucas was my first, and I’d always remember him for that.

  ‘I don’t see it as tying myself down. I had a fantastic time travelling, but now it’s time to get an education,’ Danny says with the smile that used to send shivers of excitement down my spine when I was fifteen. Some six years later, to my annoyance, it’s still having the same effect.

  ‘Good for you,’ I reply, trying not to sound bitter. Even though I’m living hundreds of miles away from Sandybridge, my longing to travel has not diminished. I’m determined to begin seeing the world as soon as my time at university is over.

  Danny tips his head to one side. ‘Not still bitter, are you, Gracie?’ he asks. ‘About me leaving you behind?’

  ‘Ha!’ I pretend to laugh. ‘As if! I’m having a fantastic time in Edinburgh. Plus I only have a while left, then I’ll be the one free to do as she likes!’

  Danny grins. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. Met anyone?’

  I know he means anyone male.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I have,’ I lie. There have been guys, but none who’ve lasted more than a few dates. They only ever seemed to want one thing; I was prepared to oblige a few of them on that score, but only for as long as it suited me. I was very firmly single these days, and I liked it that way.

  ‘Oh.’ Did Danny look a little put out? ‘That’s cool, what’s his… or her name?’

  ‘His name is…’ I glance across at our friend with the book to gain a few seconds. ‘John… ny. It’s John, but he likes to be called Johnny,’ I add hurriedly.

  Danny nods. ‘Cool. Is he a history student too?’

  ‘Zoology,’ I reply, trying not to look at the book jacket again. ‘He wants to work with endangered birds.’

  Danny looks at me questioningly. ‘Really?’

  I nod with conviction.

  ‘Well, I’m single,’ he tells me with a hint of pride. ‘Have been for a while.’

  Knowing Danny, his idea of a while is probably a few days.

  ‘Congratulations, what do you want – a medal?’

  Danny laughs. ‘Ah, you always did have a sharp tongue, Gracie. You know, it’s a shame you’re seeing someone – we could have hooked up while we’re both back in Sandybridge.’

  The audacity of him!

  ‘I don’t think so, Danny,’ I tell him firmly, trying to ignore the excited butterflies dancing in my stomach. ‘Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t just drop everything for you. I have plans while I’m home.’

  Danny doesn’t look in the least bit annoyed by my rejection.

  ‘Plans with Charlie?’ he asks, his eyebrows high in his forehead.

  ‘Yes, amongst other things. It’s Christmas, I have a lot of people to catch up with.’

  ‘Fair enough!’ Danny says, holding his hand up. ‘I know when I’m not wanted.’

  I’m about to respond when I realise the train is pulling into Sandybridge station.

  ‘It’s our stop!’ I cry, leaping to my feet. ‘I need to get my case down from the luggage rack.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you,’ Danny says, standing up opposite me. We make our way along the carriage to the baggage area, and I point to my red case, which Danny pulls from under another two cases, then he reaches for a large rucksack stashed over the other side of the luggage compartment.

  ‘Is that all you have?’ I ask as we wait for the train to come to a stop.

  ‘Yep. Travel light, me – backpacking taught me that. Unlike some…’ He smirks at my large suitcase.

  ‘I have gifts inside that too!’ I protest.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Danny says, grabbing hold of my case as well as his own bag and alighting from the train now the doors are open. ‘Come on, Gracie, or you’ll end up in Cromer, and no one wants to be there at Christmas!’

  I reprimand him as we both get off the train, partly for the Cromer comment – our two towns have always had a slight rivalry – and partly for carrying my case, which I quickly take hold of myself as we head into the little ticket office.

  ‘How are you getting home?’ Danny asks as we exit the station.

  ‘Walk, probably.’

  ‘But your house is a long way from here.’

  ‘So? I like walking.’

  ‘We could get a cab,’ Danny says, glancing at a lone taxi driver in front of us waiting hopefully for a fare.

  ‘I don’t know about students in London, but us guys up north don’t have the money for taxis!’

  ‘Neither do us London boys.’ Danny sighs and looks up at the sky.

  ‘At least the weather is dry,’ I say, doing the same. ‘We shouldn’t get wet.’

  ‘I wasn’t looking at that,’ Danny says, still staring up above our heads. ‘Do you believe in Christmas traditions, Gracie?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, looking at him.

  ‘Look what’s hanging up above us!’ Danny grins at me.

  I look up at the station doorway and see a bunch of mistletoe hanging high above our heads.

  Oh Christ!

  I try and look with loathing at Danny, but I can’t, he just seems to have the wrong effect on me – or was it the right one? Before I can debate that any further I see him leaning in towards me.

  ‘Anyone want a lift?’ a familiar voice asks, interrupting us before we can resurrect any old traditions, Christmas or otherwise.

  I shriek with pleasure when I see who it is.

  ‘Charlie!’

  Twelve

  ‘Hey, you!’ Charlie says, hugging me. ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Hey, yourself!’ I reply, delighted to see him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Your mum told me what time you were due in, so I thought I’d come and give you a lift.’

  ‘But I’m really late, I thought I’d be on the
earlier train, only I missed my first connection at Peterborough cos the train was delayed.’

  ‘I know, I’ve been waiting,’ Charlie says, as if it was ever in doubt that he would stay put until I arrived. He glances at Danny. ‘All right, Dan?’

  ‘Good, thanks, Charlie,’ Danny says, and they both look questioningly at each other.

  ‘I bumped into Danny on the train from Norwich,’ I hurriedly explain. ‘He’s back for Christmas too. Quite a coincidence.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Charlie doesn’t seem too impressed. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘So what have you come to pick me up in?’ I ask, looking around. ‘The café’s van?’

  Charlie and his parents had made such a success of the café that they had expanded into lunchtime deliveries, supplying sandwiches and salads to companies in Sandybridge and the surrounding area.

  ‘Nope, I have my own car now,’ Charlie says proudly.

  ‘You do! Where is it?’

  Charlie points to a metallic blue Nova. ‘She’s tiny, but she goes when she needs to, and most importantly she’s all mine!’ He glances at Danny as he says this.

  ‘Good for you!’ Danny replies amiably. ‘I’ll probably wait until I finish my degree before I buy a car. Then I’ll be earning enough to buy a decent one.’

  Were these two digging at each other on purpose?

  Of course they were.

  I roll my eyes. Men!

  And that’s what the two of them are now. They’re no longer gangly youths, struggling to find a way of fitting into their adult bodies properly. Both are tall (even Charlie is taller than me now), handsome young men.

  Danny still has a mischievous look about him, so you can never quite be sure what he’s thinking, but you get the feeling his thoughts are leaning towards the naughty side. As I’d noticed earlier on the train, he’s sporting what is most likely an almost permanent dark shadow covering his chin, and his physique – which was already showing signs of becoming muscly at school – is now well toned and broad. He has the healthy glow of a person who spends a lot of time outside.