The Lighthouse, page 1
THE LIGHTHOUSE
Fran Dorricott
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2022
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2022
Cover design by © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2022
Cover photograph © Lyn Randle / Trevillion Images
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008449339
Ebook Edition © February 2022 ISBN: 9780008449346
Version: 2021-11-11
Dedication
For my family, who all feigned surprise when I said ‘I’m going to write a creepy island book’
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Friday
Chapter 1: Kira
Chapter 2: Genevieve
Chapter 3: Moira
Chapter 4: Kira
Chapter 5: Genevieve
Chapter 6: Moira
Chapter 7: Kira
Saturday
Chapter 8: Genevieve
Chapter 9: Moira
Chapter 10: Kira
Chapter 11: Genevieve
Chapter 12: Moira
Chapter 13: Kira
Chapter 14: Genevieve
Chapter 15: Moira
Chapter 16: Kira
Chapter 17: Genevieve
Chapter 18: Moira
Chapter 19: Kira
Chapter 20: Genevieve
Sunday
Chapter 21: Moira
Chapter 22: Kira
Chapter 23: Genevieve
Chapter 24: Moira
Chapter 25: Kira
Chapter 26: Genevieve
Chapter 27: Moira
Chapter 28: Kira
Chapter 29: Genevieve
Chapter 30: Moira
Chapter 31: Kira
Chapter 32: Genevieve
Chapter 33: Moira
Chapter 34: Kira
Chapter 35: Genevieve
Chapter 36: Moira
Chapter 37: Kira
Monday
Chapter 38: Genevieve
Acknowledgements
About the Author
About the Publisher
FRIDAY
1
Kira
I see Ora lighthouse before any of the others. The five of them have been busy bickering since we got on the boat, as they always do when we’re all together. Lucas is currently telling a work story I heard him boast about a million times when we were still dating, so I’ve zoned out. James, Moira and Jess have been ribbing him for exaggerating, like always, but that only encourages him. The only difference today is Lucas’s new girlfriend, Genevieve, who’s listening to his story like she actually believes it.
‘Look!’ I say, cutting through the punchline. Only Genevieve is listening now anyway because the others have finally seen it properly too.
We all rush to the side of the boat, which is bobbing hard through sharp, dark waves. Up ahead the lighthouse stands tall, no longer obscured by the curve of the island or the mist, which sits, grey and still, on top of the water. When we set off the lighthouse wasn’t even a smudge in the distance, but now we’re close I can see that the island, which before was only a dark hump in the water, is amber and green, speckled with craggy grey rocks and outcrops of scrubby trees. It’s wild to think that only this morning I was in London, all brick and glass and exhaust, and now we’re here, alone on the water, mist swallowing us whole.
I feel myself relax a little. The lighthouse looks exactly how I expected, tall and blindingly white on its grassy outcrop. The island is growing larger by the second, isolated and wild. The mainland has long vanished into the mist behind us, and there’s a feeling of being stopped in time.
This is the perfect location for our big ten-year reunion weekend. Lots of space to switch off, to reconnect – with nature and with each other. It’s been too long since we all got together.
‘It’s so big!’ Moira exclaims, her brown eyes wide. She squeezes her wife’s hand excitedly and Jess smiles, a little less enthusiastically. Jess can come across as tightly wound, but she’s been especially snippy today. We’re all tired, though. Most of us have been up since five this morning, and aside from Lucas snatching a short nap on the plane to Inverness – twenty minutes of blissful quiet for the rest of us – we’ve hardly stopped talking since we left London. As though if we let ourselves be silent we might not get the same energy back.
‘Is that where we’re actually staying?’ James asks before Lucas can make one of his trademark That’s what she said jokes. They always fall into the same behaviour when they’re together. ‘In the lighthouse?’
James rubs his hands together to ward off the cold. It would have been better if we’d been able to do this in the summer, but September is better than nothing.
‘The cottages next door,’ Jess says. ‘Right? That’s what you said. I don’t think I fancy staying in the lighthouse.’
‘Gen’s been telling her scary stories,’ Moira explains when she sees my face. I must have looked hurt, and I try to rein it in. I planned this trip, but I refuse to take responsibility for it like I always would have when we were at uni.
‘I didn’t mean them to be scary stories,’ Genevieve says. She scoops her short blonde hair behind one ear, managing to look both apologetic and effortlessly pretty, despite the wind that whips her hair back to wildness after less than a second.
‘What scary stories?’ Lucas asks, slipping his arms around Genevieve’s waist. I have to look away. They’re like a pair of lovesick teenagers.
‘You know, tales about the sailors who died on the rocks, or the lighthouse keepers who killed themselves when they got too lonely. Or the ones who didn’t want to leave when their time was up.’ Moira shakes her head but she’s smiling. ‘Jess always takes that stuff so seriously.’
Jess shrugs. ‘I don’t like horror movies. What would make you think I’d spend a weekend in a haunted lighthouse?’
‘It’s not haunted,’ I say. I don’t know why I’m determined to take this so personally. ‘It’s all shiny and renovated. Nobody’s even stayed here yet.’
The guide who met us on the mainland pulls the boat expertly towards the dock. The motor cuts and suddenly I can hear better. It’s a different kind of silence here. Your brain says it should be quiet: no traffic, no chatter, and now no motor; but it’s not. The silence – if that’s what you call it – is loaded. The waves, the wind, the bristle of trees against each other. Like one big reset button.
‘It looks amazing, Kira,’ James says reassuringly. ‘Honest. We are going to have the best weekend.’
‘And get very, very drunk,’ Lucas is quick to add.
A collective groan eases the tension as we all set about disembarking. The guide is a grizzled-looking man who might be anywhere between thirty and fifty, his hair hidden by a dark beanie. He’s got a soft Scottish accent and a deep frown, and I can tell he’s not thrilled to bring us to the island. It must be off his usual route.
He helps us to carry our luggage onto a path that leads up a long grassy slope towards the lighthouse. He doesn’t struggle with it like we did; his body betrays a lifetime of hard work in the easy way he drops the bags one by one, without a blink.
We’ve got a lot of stuff between us: suitcases and a wheeled trolley we packed in Inverness full of booze and food supplies to last us the weekend. I think Jess is planning a feast.
‘There’s a boat once a day when the lighthouse is occupied – except Sundays,’ the guide reminds us, ‘so I’ll be here with the tide in case you have questions or need anything semi-urgently.’
‘Thank you, Ben.’ Genevieve beams and the man’s gruff exterior seems to melt a bit. She seems to have that effect on everybody but me. But then, I didn’t even bother to learn the guide’s name.
James catches me watching her so I turn away, clutching my camera case to my chest and pretending to examine the lighthouse again. It looks amazing coming out of the mist like that. Actually, this will be a perfect shot for the magazine, all atmospheric and moody. The photos are the main reason we’re here, after all. It’s one of the perks of my job: paid-for accommodation in unusual locations, which just about makes up for the lack of pay the rest of the time. It’s not often I get sent somewhere with enough beds for a whole group of us to travel, though, so I’m glad it worked out for our reunion.
I focus so hard on the shot that I begin to relax again, letting the others pick up the conversational sla
‘Just be careful on the rocks,’ the guide adds. ‘The light up top still works – it’s automated – but it’s still easy to misstep in the dark or the fog. If you think this is bad, wait till it rains. The cliffs aren’t as high as they look but they’re steep and the sunroom runs close to the edge. We ask people not to go off on their own at night, just to be on the safe side. Getting in touch with nature doesn’t mean a midnight tumble into the sea.’
He starts to laugh as though he’s said something incredibly funny. Lucas cracks up and James smiles, but Jess doesn’t look impressed. Moira nudges her arm.
‘Don’t worry,’ she says loudly. ‘We are planning on spending a lot of time inside, and most of the night sleeping.’
This makes James raise an eyebrow suggestively and Lucas laughs again. The guide gives us a few more tips, suggests we keep our eyes peeled for a sight of the northern lights when it gets dark if the mist clears up, and then takes the boat out onto the open water with a roar that swallows up the air around us.
I put my camera down and take a deep breath. It’s amazing how quickly the sound of the motor is swallowed by the mist, until there’s just us and the island. Freedom. The air smells different here. Cleaner, like pine and salt. I know my cheeks are already chapped from the wind on the boat but I don’t care. It’s so good to be here, to be together.
‘A whole weekend with all of us,’ I say.
Jess gives the first genuine smile I’ve seen for hours. ‘I know. When was the last time we did this?’
‘Nearly three years, I think?’ James has started to walk and we all follow him up the chalky path. ‘I think the last time we all made it was … New Year? In Brighton?’
‘Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that.’ I can always tell when Lucas is lying, and he’s lying now. He can’t have forgotten Brighton, because that’s the last holiday we had before we broke up. We fought the whole week and pissed off Jess and Moira, who were pregnant and didn’t want the drama.
‘It’s not like you haven’t seen each other since, though. And that’s amazing. I never see the people I went to uni with,’ Genevieve says. It always feels like she’s trying super hard to be nicer than everybody around her. Or maybe she just is nice, and I’m a cynic. It’s probably the latter. ‘I can’t believe you’ve all been friends for ten years.’
‘More than ten for most of us,’ Lucas says. ‘Thirteen actually.’ It’s not meant to be a dig, but I can’t help the little surge of envy I get, same as always. James, Lucas, Jess and Moira all met in first year at uni and have been friends ever since. I only joined their group when I started dating Lucas at the start of our third year, and I’ve never stopped feeling bad about that.
Still, Genevieve is the new newest addition. And this is silly. I’m so tired that if I’m not careful I’ll ruin it. The lighthouse awaits, and I know first impressions are everything. Besides, I don’t want to admit that the mention of Genevieve’s scary stories has unsettled me a bit. I’m not normally bothered by that stuff but it’s too easy to imagine a brutal death on those rocks at the base of the cliffs: a fall from the lantern room, just a trip, or a careless foot in a rabbit hole in the dark and a short roll down the hill into the ocean. We’ll have to be careful.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Anybody else desperate for a cuppa?’
2
Genevieve
This place is stunning. I’ve travelled to a lot of places over the years, but already I can tell that Scotland – especially Ora island – is going to be one of my favourites. The wind is fresh and crisp, the scenery rugged and barren, and yet somehow so alive, and the lighthouse is so full of energy up close that I get chills.
We’ve managed to drag the luggage up the hill from the dock and I know I’m not the only one that feels it. Everybody has stopped, even Lucas who doesn’t normally feel anything spiritual at all. Old places always have energy like this, but the lighthouse is something else. It is powerful. It must be, to have weathered so many storms.
‘Wow,’ Moira breathes. ‘Just wow.’
Kira looks pleased, but I can tell that she’s impressed, too. I can’t imagine any one of us has ever seen a lighthouse up close before. Lucas points right to the top, where the faint sun reflects the white of the mist off the glass, and we all take it in. Its sleek height; the way the dark windows cut right the way down and seem to drink the light. At the bottom there is a wraparound porch, running to the left in shining glass to form a sunroom where the building gazes out over the ocean.
To the right there is a blocky structure, whitewashed like the lighthouse. It’s as short and squat as the lighthouse is tall, but it’s charming too.
‘Those are the cottages,’ Kira says. ‘Well, it’s just one cottage now, I guess. I think the lighthouse keepers used to live there before the light was automated. Cool, right?’
‘Look at that,’ Jess murmurs. She’s been quiet for most of the journey from London, and I don’t know her well enough yet to guess why, but even she seems to have been won over now. ‘It’s like we’re staring at some fantasy land,’ she adds. ‘Like an island in the clouds.’
She’s right. With our backs to the cottage there is only the lighthouse and then the ocean, stretching dark and turbulent until it vanishes into grey. It’s like standing on the edge of the world.
‘Come on, let’s go dump our stuff.’
Kira leads the way to the cottage, and as we follow, James falls in step beside me.
‘Is it true?’ he asks.
‘Is what true?’
‘All that stuff about people dying, sailors and lighthouse keepers and everybody.’
I examine his expression. For a second I think I’ve ruined it; I didn’t mean to upset anybody. I’ve always loved ghost stories, because they often show us what’s important about life. The thought that I’ve unsettled any of Lucas’s friends sits heavy in my stomach.
‘Well, I don’t know about this island specifically,’ I say hesitantly, ‘but it’s quite common. I mean, boats used to crash on places like this all the time. Look at all that mist. That’s why we have the lighthouses. There are a lot of folk tales – stories about hauntings and guardians of the sea.’
James is silent for a second. He peers back over his shoulder, taking in the view again. When he turns around he’s got a smirk on his face that makes me think of Lucas – cocky and fun – and I smile back, relieved.
‘Guess we’d better not get too drunk and fall in then,’ he says. ‘Wouldn’t want to be stuck here as a ghost forever.’
Kira gathers the key from a collection box with a code and we let ourselves into the cottage, which is surprisingly spacious. There are four bedrooms, one large family bathroom and a small kitchen with just enough room for a table and chairs at one end. Everything inside is new, totally unused. Fresh beds and linens that have never been slept in, a coffee maker in the kitchen that Moira whoops over in excitement. The decor is a mixture of kitschy and modern, a blend that sums up the cottage and the lighthouse entirely.
It’s gorgeous. I wonder, briefly, who lived here once. How they’d feel about us staying in their home. But the current owners have done a grand job, and by the time we’ve all run from room to room inspecting the place Kira is grinning from ear to ear.
‘Nice,’ James intones. ‘Really nice. Well done, Kira.’
‘Thank you.’ She gives a mock bow. ‘But you haven’t seen the best bit yet.’
‘The lighthouse?’ Moira asks.
‘None other. Come on—’
Lucas and James are already gone, pushing and shoving like teenagers in their rush to get back outside. Jess shakes her head, laughing. ‘Such children.’
We hurry after them, still in our jackets and hats. It’s getting late in the afternoon now, the weak sunlight dripping away. The lighthouse towers above, its long shadow stretching across the cottage and leaving us all in the cold shade.
‘This way!’ Kira has caught up with James, and she points at the base of the lighthouse, where the porch is enclosed at the back. There is a door leading inside, which she unlocks with another key from the same set as before, labelled with a green tag.
Up close like this the energy is even stronger. It’s like the tug of the wind, pulling me inside. I’m the last one through the door – always the last one in this group, but I don’t mind. These are Lucas’s friends and I’m honestly just grateful to be included. And so I’m the last one to see it, and I breathe out in awe.
