The Lighthouse, page 11
James seems startled by her movement, but he nods too.
‘Not a bad plan.’
‘I’m in,’ I agree. ‘That was literally all that was on my bucket list for the weekend beside eating amazing food. Sleep.’
James laughs. He starts to wiggle his eyes, but stops and laughs harder when Jess stares daggers. He might think it’s funny, but there’s no chance of any of that going on when either of us are this tired. That’s probably been half the problem since Emma was born.
‘Sleep? I just opened another beer!’ Lucas says. ‘Wish you’d said you’d all be disappearing.’
‘I’ll stay,’ Kira says after a beat. ‘We can play snap.’
‘The beer will still be there in a couple of hours,’ I say.
‘Let me go, Lucas,’ Jess intones, ‘or I’ll feed you nothing but Camembert for dinner. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much you hate it.’
Lucas shudders gamely and then waves us off. ‘Oh, whatever. Gross. Go be gross together.’
I wait for Jess to get up and then we both drag on our jackets, still damp from earlier, before heading out into the late afternoon light. The clouds are still thick and grey but the rain seems to have died off temporarily and the air smells fresh and green. I inhale deeply, enjoying the feeling of the cold in my lungs.
‘Hurry up,’ Jess says. She’s at the door to the cottage already. ‘I don’t like the way the light makes everything look when the sky’s like that.’
‘What? Why?’ I laugh.
‘It’s too … I don’t know. Like half day, half night.’
‘It’s only like twilight,’ I say.
‘Well, exactly. It’s too early for that.’
‘You’ve never minded the rain before.’ I kick off my boots in the cottage foyer, really feeling the difference in temperature between the cottage and the lighthouse where we’ve had the fire burning all afternoon. ‘What’s different here?’
‘It’s not the rain. It’s because … the shadows are just really long, I guess,’ Jess says thoughtfully. ‘I never noticed it before. And the air seems … I don’t know. Too …’
‘Too still?’
‘Yes. That’s it. It’s too still, even with the bad weather. The rain’s been battering all day, all that wind, but now it’s all stopped and it’s just still and quiet. It feels – empty.’
I don’t say anything, but I do understand what Jess means. I’ve felt it too. It’s like the island is waiting for something. I won’t admit that to her, though, because I know it’ll freak her out more. And I don’t believe in any of that stuff. I can’t. One of us has to be the sensible one.
‘I’m so tired.’ I rub my hands over my face and knead my knuckles into my eye sockets with a groan. We’ve reached our bedroom now and I’m looking forward to a couple of hours of blissful sleep, a thick blanket and my fuzzy socks and Jess curled warm at my back.
But then I realise she hasn’t started her usual routine; I’d expect her to be shucking out of her jeans, or at least pulling her jumper off, but she’s not moved from the doorway.
‘What’s up?’ I ask.
‘I … I just thought I saw something. Out of the window. It’s nothing.’
I turn, taking in the sky, bruised and swollen, and the dark landscape out of the window. I see a faint glimmer of my reflection too, dark hair and bronze skin: all but a silhouette against Jess’s pale oval face.
‘Just the reflection,’ I say.
Jess nods, but she doesn’t look convinced.
‘Oh, while I remember – I’ve been meaning to ask you, will you be able to stay home with Em on Thursday night? I got invited to go out for dinner with a client, and I think it’ll be really good for Tinleys if we make nice …’ I start talking, willing myself to fall into home routines even here, just to keep things steady, to keep the world from tilting. But Jess frowns at me. ‘What?’ I ask again.
‘Why do you always do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Change the subject.’ She crosses to the bed and begins to take her jumper off, but she’s doing the hunched shoulders thing which I know means I’m about to get it in the neck.
‘I … thought we were done talking about ghosts?’
‘You did it before, too. Any time I mention how I feel, especially since we got here, you change the subject or tell me not to be stupid.’ She throws her jumper down. ‘The others are starting to notice.’
‘Notice what?’
‘That you think I’m stupid.’ Now she looks at me and my stomach bottoms out. It’s not true – not even remotely – but I didn’t want to have this conversation.
‘You’re not stupid,’ I say, as calmly as I can. ‘Not at all. I just …’
‘Just what?’
I just don’t want you to get worked up. If I say that, she’ll absolutely lose it, and it’s not a battle I want to have. I sigh through my nose and try to think of something, but she continues speaking before I have the chance.
‘You think I’m unstable.’
I don’t know what to say to that. Of course I don’t think she’s unstable. She’s just been under so much pressure at home lately, and I know since she’s been home alone with Emma a lot more she’s had to start taking her medication again. She hasn’t told me, but I know when it gets bad. And I only want to help.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Everything I can think of to say sounds puerile, like I’d be trying to pacify her instead of speaking the truth. Jess tosses her head, golden hair down her back, and instead of speaking I move towards her, kneeling on the bed by her side. I take her hands in mine.
‘I really do think Gen is right,’ Jess says. Her voice is quieter now. ‘I don’t want to hurt Kira’s feelings, but I don’t really think I like it here. No, you know what? I actively do not like it.’ When she looks up, her eyes seem very dark blue; like two endless pools of worry and fear that I can do nothing to assuage.
It’s not relief I feel, though. I’m glad she isn’t upset with me – I am – but there’s a little pocket of heat in my belly. I am angry, I realise.
‘Do we have to talk about it?’ I say earnestly. ‘Please, can’t we just relax and enjoy the peace and quiet?’
‘Peace and quiet.’ Jess pulls her hands back and pinches the bridge of her nose. ‘You’re always talking like that, too. As if you can’t wait to get away from us to go to work. As if you couldn’t wait to come away this weekend.’
‘I couldn’t wait!’ I throw my hands up in exasperation, sitting back on my heels as the mattress wobbles. ‘It’s not about not wanting to be with Emma. It’s about wanting to spend some time with you. Just you.’
‘There isn’t just me here.’
‘I know that, but we don’t ever have it at home. This weekend we have opportunities for time alone. Like right now: a nice nap together, just sleep and nothing else. No worrying about work, or Emma; whose turn it’ll be to go if she wakes up; who’s going to take her to the park or her play dates. I love her, but I love what we have together too. Am I not allowed to miss that?’
Jess doesn’t say anything at first, and I can see that she’s thinking it over – genuinely thinking – but it doesn’t last and seconds later the shutters go down again and I can see that she refuses to admit any of it. She won’t tell me how she’s been struggling; she won’t talk to me about the medication or what I can do to help. And the worst thing is I know I can’t ask without her thinking I don’t trust her. So I don’t push it.
‘I just have this feeling,’ Jess says. ‘About the lighthouse. Or – or I don’t know. About Emma.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I have this feeling,’ she says again, bringing her fist to clench just beneath her ribs. ‘I can’t describe it. It’s a bad feeling. Sort of like when you’re worried you left the stove on.’
‘Are you still worrying about leaving Em with your mum and dad?’
‘Yes, but this feels different.’ She blinks. ‘I don’t know how many times I can say I don’t know, but I don’t. It’s just a feeling. Maybe it’s the vibes Gen was talking about. Energy. History. Maybe the lighthouse is haunted. Or maybe I just don’t like that little girl’s bedroom we found. Why would the owners leave it locked away like that? If they renovated it, they could fit more people on the island, make more money …’
Jess finally begins to unbutton her jeans, readying herself for a sleep. I think again how tired I am, but now I know I won’t be able to sleep.
‘It probably just means something to them,’ I say.
I just wish we knew what.
16
Kira
It’s a long time since I’ve been alone with Lucas. When we first broke up I avoided him a lot, and then, after Lucas met Genevieve, he started to avoid me. Not in any obvious sort of way, but I noticed it because I’d spent so many years noticing him.
It’s not like I worried it would be, though, just the two of us. In fact, it’s almost comfortable. Lucas slows down on the beers once everybody else is gone and I nurse a glass of wine, and, just as I suggested, we get the cards back out and Lucas begins to deal for snap. It’s a game we played a lot in the early days, when we were first dating, but it was never about anything romantic. It wasn’t about winning or losing, either; just playing. Something mindless.
I think of the simple pleasure I take in the setup of the game, of the fun we had earlier before James ruined it, of the wine and Jess’s fancy cooking … Somehow this weekend we are all trying to prove that we are still capable of feeling childish delight, while simultaneously we’re desperate to prove that we’ve grown up, too. Ten years is a long time. Look at me, look how far I’ve come – but I’m still the old me, too. It’s impossible.
‘You look like you’re in deep,’ Lucas comments. He taps a finger to his forehead and then sticks his tongue out at me.
‘Just thinking,’ I say.
Lucas pauses. ‘Am I allowed to ask what about?’
‘Of course you are.’ I sip my wine. ‘I was just thinking it’s funny how we’re all stuck in this limbo. We are now the adults who long for … adultier adults to fix their problems. We’ve become the people we made fun of at uni.’
‘What problems?’ Lucas begins the game, playing slowly at first as he always does.
‘This weekend.’ I sigh and toss down a two of clubs. Snap. Lucas wins.
‘You don’t think people are having a good time.’ It’s not a question.
‘No. I mean, are you? The lighthouse is perfect. It’s the best location we’ve ever had for a get-together, but nobody seems happy here and everything keeps going wrong. James …’ I trail off, careful not to raise my voice too loud. He left the lighthouse not long after Mo and Jess but I don’t trust that he’s not lurking somewhere, since that seems to be his new habit of choice, ‘… It’s like he’s determined to sabotage. I don’t know if it’s because it’s ten years and we’re all … I don’t know, trying to prove something?’
‘What could we possibly have to prove?’ Lucas genuinely can’t see it.
But then, he never could. He’s got this amazing new job, a beautiful girlfriend who’s an absolute boss – and a bloody nice person to boot – and the rest of us feel pathetic by comparison. Even Moira, who loves her job at the auction house, seems quiet this time, when normally all we hear are stories about her weird and wonderful finds.
‘We’re not all like you,’ I say. ‘We don’t all have a shiny new job and a pay rise to match.’
‘Kira, your job is why we’re here,’ he points out. ‘What would the Kira from ten years ago think about that?’
‘She’d ask me whether I owned my own car yet,’ I mutter. We both play sevens now and this time I win. ‘And I don’t. So. You know.’
‘It’s all relative. You live in London, Kira, you don’t need a car.’ Lucas shrugs in that easy, infuriating way of his, and I find myself wishing I had the joker Lucas here with me right now instead of this blasé, yet somehow sincere, one.
‘Whatever.’
Nobody has bothered to build the fire back up again and we’ve been in here long enough that it’s died right down. It’s amazing how quickly the heat seems to drain away now I’ve noticed; as if there’s something sucking it right out from around our bodies. The sun has begun to dip beyond the horizon and the windows are dim with the slowly creeping night. I wish, suddenly, that there was some kind of lamp outside the lighthouse, so that when it gets dark we might be able to see the cottage through the glass in the door. Without it, I know it will feel like we might be the only people in the world.
I picture the expanse of window in the sunroom, the porch that wraps all the way around to the ocean just beyond it, and aside from occasional slices of light from the lamp upstairs I know that in just a few hours the glass will be empty and black. The thought makes me feel naked, exposed, and I curl tighter into the sofa.
‘Anyway, all I’m saying is that James has more to prove in life than we all do,’ I say. ‘Or he thinks he does.’ He always has, but I don’t say that. Lucas won’t believe me; he never does. To him James can do no wrong. But I don’t think James has ever really recovered from being the only one of us to graduate with a third. He took that hard, especially after what happened between us, how that affected him …
It was as if that was the point when he stopped trying. He never lasted in a job after that; has never earned more than minimum wage. And while the rest of us don’t care – we would never hold it against him – he holds it against himself.
‘You think he’s trying to make us pay attention to him?’ Lucas asks. He looks genuinely surprised.
‘Well, honestly as far as I see it there are two options,’ I say. ‘One: James went for a walk last night and for some reason now he suddenly believes in ghosts, just like your girlfriend … Which is ridiculous because James does not believe in ghosts. Or, two: James – and I don’t mean this in a bad way – likes the attention he got last night, hence why he wandered off again today.’
‘And conveniently discovered a creepy bedroom from the 19-whatevers,’ Lucas says, clearly unimpressed with my theory.
‘He didn’t magic it out of thin air, but I don’t believe that door wasn’t locked. I checked it. So did Gen. It’s like he’s trying to find ways to scare us. I bet that’s what he was doing while we were playing. Finding something to freak us all out.’
Lucas wins another round, but he’s distracted, muttering how he wishes Genevieve would come back from her walk before it gets dark. I say nothing, just push back from the coffee table and wander to the sunroom doorway. I was right about the glass; although the sun hasn’t sunk away yet, already the fading evening light and the dark clouds make the glass feel invisible, as if there’s nothing to stop us tumbling into the swathe of water beyond.
‘I still don’t get why James is doing this,’ Lucas says, going back to our previous conversation. ‘It’s not exactly funny. He’s always been good at being funny. Surely you get better attention from being a clown?’
All of a sudden I realise I don’t have to stand here feeling nervous about the slow, creeping darkness. I don’t have to feel naked next to this invisible glass. So I switch on all of the lights, bringing the terracotta tiles and the table which is still a bit messy from lunch back to life. The grey light is immediately drowned in golden illumination.
‘Yeah but you’re funny too,’ I say. A year ago that would have hurt to say, but something this weekend has softened in me. Maybe it’s getting to know Genevieve. ‘James has competition when you’re here too.’
I turn back and Lucas is frowning. ‘But it’s always been us,’ he says. ‘Both of us. Together.’
‘I don’t know then.’ I sigh, blowing out my frustration. ‘All I’m saying is that things aren’t how I planned. And I’m annoyed.’
‘Gen didn’t mean to upset anybody.’ Lucas is on his feet now too. He wanders to the sunroom and peers through, as if wondering what I’m doing. I’m not sure why I’m in here except that it feels dangerous. Exposed. Maybe I want Lucas to see me – but that sounds stupid.
‘I wish she’d read the room a bit better.’
‘It’s not her fault that Jess is so wound up by everything right now.’ Lucas folds his arms defensively. ‘Honestly, getting freaked out by a couple of ghost stories? We’re not children.’
‘It’s not Jess’s fault either,’ I snap, suddenly weary. ‘She can’t help that it scared her.’
‘She made herself scared!’ Lucas is getting annoyed too. The feeling in the air has shifted, and now it’s on a knife edge. Suddenly I can feel that tension again – old resentment bubbling – and I’m getting angry too. ‘Talk about people who like attention; all Jess does is try to piss Moira off—’
‘What, and Mo doesn’t do the same? That’s what they do.’
‘Exactly!’ Lucas throws his hands up. ‘You can’t blame Gen for everybody else’s neuroses. Jesus Christ, Kira. I know you don’t like her but that’s not fair.’
I bite down on my lip so hard that I can feel blood welling there, taste the metallic tang on my tongue. How dare he? I’ve been nothing but welcoming. I’ve tried my best, anyway.
‘Fuck you, Lucas,’ I say, forcing my voice into ice.
Lucas blinks once, slowly, but doesn’t respond except to turn around and walk away. His shoulders are rigid, his back straight as a rod, and I know then that I’ve gone too far. He gathers up the playing cards, places them in a neat pile on the table, and then grabs another beer.
‘I’m going to find Gen,’ he says tiredly.
I stay in the sunroom, turning my back on the lounge. The anger bubbles, but as soon as Lucas is gone I regret it. I’m not even sure what came over me. It felt like something else – something not entirely me.
The clouds are thicker again now, no hints of the dipping sun through a canvas of dark grey and purple, as if another big storm is brewing. The air is cold and I shiver a little. I should apologise to Lucas, but there’s only so many times I can apologise for being tired without that just being who I am now. I rub my fingers into my scalp, mussing my hair, and am about to leave when I notice something.
