Letters from Lighthouse Cottage

by McNamara, Ali

  ‘No, it’s not, but not everyone’s cut out for city living. Some people like a quieter life. Like Charlie, for instance.’ I gesture towards Charlie, returning with our drinks.

  ‘What am I getting blamed for now?’ he says amiably, putting the refilled glasses on the table and sitting down again.

  ‘Gracie says you’re happy living a sheltered existence here in Sandybridge, and that you don’t want to get out into the big, bad world and live life.’

  ‘I did not say that!’ I protest as Charlie looks in astonishment at me. ‘I said some people like a quiet life, that’s all. They’re not cut out for fast-pace living.’

  ‘Is that what you really think?’ Charlie asks, looking hurt. ‘That the fact I like living in Sandybridge means I don’t have any ambition, any goals in life?’

  ‘Sounds like it to me,’ Danny pipes up.

  And there was me thinking they were getting on well now.

  ‘Shut up, Danny!’ I tell him. ‘No, that’s not what I think, Charlie, you know I don’t. But you have to admit you’ve always been happy here.’

  Charlie nods. ‘Yes, I can’t deny it, but what’s wrong with that? Just because I’m not flitting off to a capital city to study at university doesn’t mean I can’t be successful.’

  ‘I never said you couldn’t, did I?’ I respond, feeling hurt that Charlie should take this the wrong way.

  Silence falls around the table as Charlie and I both take long gulps of our drinks while an amused Danny watches us.

  ‘You two are like an old married couple sometimes,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘No wonder I thought the two of you were together when I first met you.’

  I glance over the top of my glass at Charlie, who I find is doing the same.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, lowering my glass and smiling apologetically at him.

  ‘Me too,’ Charlie replies, reaching out his hand and squeezing mine.

  ‘Right, now that little tiff is over, let’s talk parties!’ Danny says, banging the table with his hand. ‘Who’s going to the New Year’s Eve bash at the hall?’

  ‘Sandybridge Hall?’ I ask cautiously.

  ‘Yeah, I hear there’s going to be a big party to bring in the New Year. The dude that owns it now wants to start using it as a party venue, so my mum said. Make some money from the old place. So he’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party for the residents of Sandybridge as a sort of test run.’

  Charlie pulls a face. ‘Yeah, I heard that too. But Sandybridge Hall isn’t a venue for raucous parties any more, it’s a beautiful old Tudor manor. It’s a shame it can’t be preserved for future generations to enjoy instead of being desecrated by drunken yobs. Don’t you agree, Gracie?’

  Could this be what Remy had been talking about? On New Year’s Eve tragedy will befall Sandybridge… was it going to be at this party? ‘I have to agree with Charlie,’ I say hurriedly. ‘I’m not sure I’d like to see the hall trashed.’

  ‘And even if we did want to go, I heard the tickets are really expensive,’ Charlie adds.

  ‘I’ll pay for us,’ Danny says, not taking the hint. ‘Come on, Gracie, it’ll be a laugh, and there’s not much of that in Sandybridge in the winter.’

  ‘But surely you can’t afford it – we’re students, remember?’

  ‘I got a nice payout from the folks for Christmas,’ Danny says. ‘I’m feeling flush right now. I’ll pay for you too, Charlie, if you like.’

  ‘If I was to go, I’d pay my own way, thanks,’ Charlie says proudly.

  Danny shrugs.

  ‘No, no one is going!’ I say it so sharply they both look at me in surprise. ‘I mean… I don’t think these fancy parties are worth it. Wouldn’t we all be better off having a drink here to see in the New Year?’

  I’m still not sure if this party was what Remy was talking about, but if it was, I don’t want to take a chance on any of my friends being there in case he was right.

  ‘Here is dull,’ Danny says, looking around him at the few people in the bar tonight. ‘The most excitement we’ll have if we stay here on New Year’s Eve is waiting to see if Cyril runs out of salt-and-vinegar crisps!’

  ‘Gracie, I’ll be happy doing whatever you want to do,’ Charlie says softly. ‘If you want to go to Sandybridge Hall we can, if not, then we won’t.’

  I nod gratefully at him.

  ‘Danny,’ I try to say in my best sexy-sounding voice, ‘we could have much more fun if we stayed here.’ I lean in towards him so that he has the chance to glance down my shirt at my cleavage. ‘It could be just like old times…’ I whisper softly.

  ‘Like old times, hmm?’ Danny says, looking up with a knowing smile. Then he remembers Charlie. ‘What, the three of us? Well, that will be different!’

  ‘Yeah, the three of us,’ I reply, pretty sure my idea of how we’re going to spend New Year’s Eve is not the same as Danny has in mind. ‘OK with that, Charlie?’

  Charlie pulls a What are you up to now? expression. ‘Whatever you want, Gracie,’ he says, looking puzzled. ‘Whatever you want.’

  What I wanted was for Remy to be wrong. What I wanted was for everyone I cared about to stay safe on New Year’s Eve.

  Remy had warned of a ‘tragedy’ – and it had to be something really awful if he felt the need to tell me about it – but how was I supposed to prevent people from being involved when I didn’t know what was going to happen myself?

  Seventeen

  ‘What are you doing tonight, Grace?’ Mum asks me over breakfast at the beginning of the last day of 1992.

  ‘Charlie, Danny and I are meeting up at the pub for a few drinks, nothing special,’ I reply as I reach across the table for another slice of toast. I’ve not stopped eating since I got back; the sea air is definitely giving me a huge appetite.

  ‘That’s nice,’ Mum says, taking a sip of her tea. ‘It’s good you keep up with Charlie, he’s a lovely boy, always has been.’

  ‘Charlie is my best friend, of course I keep up with him, that will never change wherever we both are.’

  Mum smiles knowingly at Dad.

  ‘What?’ I demand. ‘Why are you looking like that?’

  ‘I’m glad you feel that way, Grace, but life has a way of changing as we get older. New people come into our lives, boyfriends, girlfriends, we get married, have children. People that once were important to us often become distant memories.’

  ‘Well that won’t happen to me and Charlie,’ I reply, wondering how they could even think that. I couldn’t comprehend a life without Charlie in it somewhere. Obviously things have changed now I’m in Edinburgh, but we still keep in touch with letters and regular phone calls, and I’m always extremely happy when I know I’ll be seeing him again. ‘We’ll always stay in touch whatever happens.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Dad says, nodding his head over the top of his newspaper. ‘Stay true to who you are, love, and keep those around you that know you best.’

  Mum and I both stare at Dad. He doesn’t usually say much, so to make a little speech like that is quite profound for him.

  ‘And what about Danny?’ Mum asks, looking away from Dad. ‘Are you two back together? I know you’ve been seeing him while you’ve been home. Such a handsome young man now.’

  ‘Mum!’ I almost choke on my toast. ‘No, I haven’t been seeing him. Not in the way you mean, anyway. We’ve been out a couple of times for a drink, that’s all, and one of those times Charlie was there, so it was hardly a date!’

  Mum purses her lips and looks at Dad for support, but he continues reading his paper.

  ‘Well, I was talking to Kathleen the other day and we were both saying what a shame it was when you two split up. You were a lovely-looking couple, you were. Still are, actually.’

  ‘I can’t believe you were talking to Danny’s mum about me!’

  ‘Not about you as such, just about our children in general and how they’re getting on.’

  I shake my head, and take another bite of my toast.

  ‘Ther
e is nothing going on between Danny and me,’ I insist after I’ve chewed and swallowed. ‘Nothing like that anyway.’

  Although Danny had made it pretty apparent he’d like there to be. Not only in the pub with Charlie, but on a subsequent occasion too, when we’d met up for a coffee, and sat on the seawall together drinking from polystyrene cups in the sunshine. It took all my willpower to resist Danny when he was on full charm offensive. But I’d felt quite proud, and strangely a little sad, that I had resisted.

  ‘So what are you two doing tonight then?’ I ask, trying to steer the subject away from Danny. I spread more jam on to my toast and take another bite. I expect them to say they’ll be staying in watching the TV, reading, or something equally quiet – that’s what they usually do at New Year. My parents have never been the greatest of party animals, particularly on the biggest party night of the year.

  ‘We’re going to the do at Sandybridge Hall,’ Mum says.

  This time I really do choke on my toast.

  Mum leaps up and begins patting me ferociously on the back.

  ‘I… I’m fine, Mum,’ I cough, taking a swig of my orange juice. ‘Honestly.’

  Mum sits down again.

  ‘Why are you going there?’ I demand, as I recover from my choking and my shock.

  ‘We thought it would be nice,’ Mum says. ‘Didn’t we, Bob?’

  Dad tips his paper forward and nods.

  ‘We never go out, so when we heard there was going to be a big party at the hall we thought, why not?’ Mum says, looking quite pleased with herself.

  ‘Dad?’ I ask, hoping to appeal to his more stagnant nature.

  ‘It was your mum’s idea,’ he says, looking up again. ‘She wanted to go out for a change.’

  ‘And so we should, Bob! We work hard at that shop, we deserve to let our hair down a bit.’

  I look at Dad again; if he let any more hair down he’d be as bald as that guy from the band Right Said Fred.

  ‘Well maybe not your dad!’ Mum smiles at her joke.

  ‘Thanks, Janet,’ Dad says, rolling his eyes. ‘I love you too.’

  Oh God, what am I going to do? I can’t stop them going – what am I supposed to say: ‘Mum, Dad, a typewriter warned me there would be a tragedy in Sandybridge tonight and I think it might be at your party’? And what if they did take heed and nothing happened; how silly would I look then?

  ‘Be careful,’ I tell them. ‘At the party,’ I add, when they look bemused.

  ‘Are you telling us to be careful now?’ Dad laughs. ‘I thought it was supposed to be the other way around!’

  ‘Please, just do,’ I say, as I stand up and begin clearing the table. ‘You never know what might happen.’

  But I knew someone that did…

  After I’ve cleared the breakfast things, I head upstairs to my bedroom with every intention of asking Remy for more advice. But when I get there I’m surprised to find a typed note already waiting for me in his spool.

  Dear Grace,

  I know you doubt me sometimes, but there will be danger in Sandybridge tonight I promise you.

  I wish I could tell you what, but you know I’m not allowed specifics, only general guidance.

  Please prevent as many people as possible from being harmed.

  Love, Me x

  *

  ‘You want me to do what?’ Charlie asks when I find him working in the café later that morning.

  ‘I need you to help me stop anyone going to the party at Sandybridge Hall tonight.’

  After reading the last letter from Remy I’d sat on the edge of my old single bed and stared silently up at the posters on my wall.

  Michael J. Fox and A-Ha had made way for Tom Hanks and Moonlighting’s Cybill Shepherd and Bruce Willis before I’d left for university, but they were turning out to be no help whatsoever with my current dilemma.

  ‘Tom, what would you do if this was one of your movies? How would you stop the party from going ahead?’

  Probably with the help of a mermaid, a giant piano, or a slobbery dog! None of which I had. Well, there was Wilson, but I couldn’t see him being much use. I looked up at Cybill Shepherd; I needed a wise-cracking sidekick like she had in Bruce Willis to help me, but where was I going to find one of those?

  ‘Why?’ Charlie is busy clearing a table, so I help him carry some of the dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  Charlie finishes emptying his crockery into the dishwasher, then he stands up to face me. ‘So I’ll ask you the same thing again, Grace – why?’

  I fold my arms. ‘Can’t you help me without knowing why?’

  ‘No.’ Charlie pulls a piece of paper from the small pile of orders on the counter. ‘Tea for two,’ he says, reading it, and begins filling a tray with cups and saucers. ‘It may be New Year’s Eve but we are quite busy, Grace. The mild weather seems to have brought a few people to the coast for a day out.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where else to turn.’

  Charlie pauses for a moment and looks at me.

  ‘You sound serious.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And you’re not going to tell me why?’

  I shake my head. ‘Please, Charlie,’ I plead. ‘I know it sounds mad, but I really need your help with this.’

  Charlie sighs. ‘I’m not sure, Grace. It’s a big thing you’re asking me to do, especially when you won’t tell me why we need to do it in the first place.’

  ‘Do you trust me?’ I ask suddenly.

  ‘Of course I do. I’d trust you with my life.’

  ‘Then help me. Please…’

  Charlie sighs heavily again. ‘I must be mad,’ he says, shaking his head, ‘but OK, I’ll help you. And heaven help me if anyone finds out what we’re up to: that party has been planned by the owner for months. This better be good, Gracie!’

  ‘Thank you!’ I give Charlie a huge bear hug. ‘You won’t regret it, I promise!’

  ‘I’d better not. So now you’ve got me to agree, just how do you plan on preventing this party from taking place?’

  I screw my nose up. ‘Ah, that’s the thing… I don’t really know. I was kind of hoping you might be able to come up with some ideas…’

  Eighteen

  ‘Just going, Mum!’ I call from the hallway as I pull on my coat ready to head off to the Sandybridge Arms that night.

  ‘Grace, have you seen our tickets for the party?’ Mum calls back. ‘Dad and I have looked everywhere for them.’

  I poke my head around the kitchen door and see my parents in full party attire, desperately searching the kitchen.

  ‘Nope. When did you last see them?’ I ask innocently, knowing full well their missing tickets are safely hidden at the bottom of the bag I currently have slung over my shoulder.

  ‘I’m sure I left them on the top of the bread bin,’ Mum says, anxiously looking around the kitchen again. ‘Are you sure you haven’t moved them?’

  I shake my head. I didn’t like lying to my parents, but this was for their own good.

  Mum sighs. ‘We won’t get in without them. Diane Lewis says it’s all very formal and proper. They certainly won’t let us in without a ticket.’

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ Dad says, removing his suit jacket and sitting down at the kitchen table.

  ‘You never really wanted to go, did you?’ Mum snaps, desperately sliding things forward on the kitchen counters, so she can look behind them. ‘This suits you just fine. Maybe it’s you who’s hidden our tickets!’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Janet. Why would I do that? It would only be a waste of money if we’ve paid for them.’

  Mum makes a sort of harrumphing noise.

  ‘Gotta go!’ I call hurriedly before I get dragged into their argument, or worse, searching for the errant tickets. ‘Hope you find them!’

  ‘At least someone will have a good evening,’ I hear Mum say to Dad as I close the front door.

&nbs
p; I skip happily along the street, tapping my bag. Part one of the plan complete; now I just have to hope part two goes as smoothly…

  Not surprisingly, the pub is packed when I get there, but I soon find Charlie sitting at a table in the corner waiting with an orange juice for me, and a Coke for him. We’ve agreed not to drink tonight; we want to keep our wits about us.

  ‘Everything go to plan?’ Charlie asks as I sit down next to him.

  I nod. ‘Yup! Got their tickets right here.’ I tap my bag again.

  ‘Good, now will you tell me what it is we’re actually trying to prevent happening at Sandybridge Hall tonight?’

  I take a sip of my juice and look at Charlie. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know!’ he exclaims, his eyes opening wide in astonishment. ‘Then what are we doing all this for?’

  ‘Shush,’ I whisper. ‘We don’t want everyone to know what we got up to earlier, do we?’

  After much thought Charlie had come up with the idea that we cause a power cut at the hall. He’d spoken to his brother, who these days was working as an electrician in Manchester, and asked him a few choice questions about electrics and old houses. Then, having found our way into the grounds in the same way we did when we were fifteen, we’d snuck inside the house in amongst all the staff busily preparing for the party.

  I was quite astonished how much the hall had changed since I was last there. When Charlie and I had wandered through here with Wilson six years ago, the interiors had been quite worn and dishevelled, though much of the original décor remained. Now the house seemed completely transformed. Although the new décor wasn’t modern in a way that detracted from the age of the house, it was fresh and new. There were new wallpapers and floor coverings, new light fittings, and new pictures that hung from wooden rails. It looked more like a chic hotel than a stately home.

  Luckily for us, there had been so many hired helpers getting everything ready for the party that we were able to sneak in unchallenged. We’d quickly found our way down on to the lower floors of the house, where domestic staff would once have dwelled, waiting for one of the many service bells to ring, to summon them to do the bidding of their employers.