The Lighthouse, page 20
‘Well we can’t just sit here,’ Kira says. Her camera is on the table next to her and she runs her fingers over it idly: sadly, almost. I wonder if she’s wishing we’d never come here. The radio sits dormant in her lap like some kind of symbol of our collective stupidity.
‘Why not?’ Lucas shrugs. ‘If it’s a ghost that’s been haunting us we’ll get proof if she walks through walls. And if she’s not a ghost – and that’s assuming James is right and she even exists – then we’ll be safe enough here, together. We’re meant to be going home tomorrow anyway.’
‘You’re telling me you feel safe enough to just chill?’ Kira asks, incredulity obvious on her face. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘It seems … harmless.’ Lucas frowns. I’m not sure if he’s telling the truth or not, but he has a point. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts. And I don’t believe in bad luck or vibes or any of that rubbish.’ He glances at Gen apologetically but doesn’t say anything else.
‘Nobody’s been hurt,’ I add quickly. ‘This woman – she didn’t hurt James when she saw him. She could have. Right? She could have attacked him and she didn’t.’
‘Which supports my theory, I think,’ Genevieve points out, glaring at Lucas. ‘Ghosts aren’t what people tend to think. They’re more like an energy. They don’t just go around hurting people. I wonder if she’s somebody who died on the island. They often have this feeling, you know; and you get a sense of them but they don’t usually hurt you. It would explain – some things.’ She rubs at her arms distractedly, as if remembering something, and then says, ‘Anyway it would explain why James had such a hazy memory of the other night.’
‘Or he was pissed out of his head,’ Lucas shuts her down. ‘And he couldn’t remember because he was beyond blackout.’
‘I really don’t like the way you said usually,’ Jess says. ‘What do you mean ghosts don’t usually hurt anyone?’
Genevieve pulls a face I don’t quite understand – thoughtful and a little bemused – but there’s a bit of fear there too.
‘This isn’t a horror movie.’ Lucas’s frown deepens. ‘Stop trying to freak her out, Gen.’
‘I’m not.’ Genevieve shakes her head. ‘I’m just being honest. It does happen sometimes. Particularly if they get angry.’
‘I’m happy staying here for the night now that everybody knows,’ James says. ‘We can … barricade ourselves in.’ He lets out a bark of laughter that doesn’t sound pleasant at all. It sounds close to tears.
‘I’m not staying in here with any of you lot.’ Lucas has been inching further away from the gathering in the centre of the lounge and he’s close to the door now. ‘I’m sick of this. It’s ridiculous. I’d rather take my chances with a ghost.’
‘Lucas,’ Genevieve tries.
‘No, Gen. You can come to the cottage with me if you want, but if we’re staying here another night then I’m going to spend it sleeping and playing on my Switch, thank you.’
‘For God’s sake, Lucas!’ Kira exclaims. ‘Will you stop being childish?’
‘I’m not being childish,’ he says calmly. ‘I’m being sensible. Moira, you agree with me, right? There’s no sense freaking out over nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing. Somebody broke into the cottage last night, Lucas. Somebody broke a mirror. Somebody threatened James.’ Kira shakes her head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you’d write that off. What’s to stop it from happening again?’
‘You were the one who said you didn’t care any more.’
‘Guys,’ I say.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that,’ Kira continues, oblivious, ‘but that doesn’t change things—’
‘Well maybe it should. If we can’t leave, then we have to stay. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Does anybody want something else to eat?’ Jess chimes in meekly. She’s closed in on herself and I want to go to her and put my arms around her but I can’t. ‘We should have lunch. Is anybody hungry? There’s still so much food.’
‘Guys!’ I shout, straining my voice so hard that it breaks, creaking in my throat. I really want a cigarette right about now.
Five pairs of eyes turn to face me. I’m standing in the middle of the room, I realise. But rather than feeling good, feeling like control, this feels like too much pressure. I exhale through my nose.
‘Look, we can yell at each other all we want. We can sit here and do nothing. We can eat – I’m actually desperate for some proper lunch. But none of that will get to the bottom of anything.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Lucas snipes. ‘Since you know everything.’
I glare at him without feeling.
‘Well there’s only one solution. If we can’t leave, but we don’t feel safe staying until we have some answers, then we need to get answers. Which means that we need to make sure James wasn’t dreaming.’
Jess shakes her head.
‘No,’ she says. ‘Come on, please let’s just stay here.’
James shrinks back.
‘We need to find that cave.’
28
Kira
The mood in the room immediately turns sour. Worse, even, than before. We all stare at Moira like she’s got three heads. The wind is howling outside and the rain is coming down mercilessly now, making the lighthouse feel like the last bastion of safety. Except it isn’t safe here. It has never been.
I’d pictured revelry for this afternoon. More board games, charades, another family-style meal and trading stories. I’d hoped that this would set us up for another year, draw us together before adult life split us apart again. Now everything is in tatters. Whatever happens this afternoon I can’t picture everybody suddenly relaxing enough for a game of Pictionary before bed.
Lucas won’t even look at me and James is acting like he’s been hit one too many times to bear. Every noise makes him jump. There’s a roll of thunder that would be atmospheric if it didn’t make me so bloody nervous. In another life, I’d love this. Now all I can think is that the island is punishing us for being here.
‘No,’ Lucas says, echoing Jess. Except his answer isn’t a plea; it’s a demand. ‘Why the hell would I risk myself to go out in this weather?’
‘You want to sit here and stew?’ I mutter. ‘Fine. You can stay here, by yourself.’
‘Who says I’ll be by myself?’
‘I want to see it,’ Genevieve says, still thoughtful. ‘The cave.’ I can’t tell what she thinks about all of this, but I know that she’s angry. Hurt. I can see it and yet it doesn’t make me feel anything. I’m so confused that I’ve lost the ability to figure out whether I hate her or not, and whether I should back her up or just fend for myself.
‘Gen,’ Lucas warns. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘What? You’ve been teasing me all weekend, but I need to know. If what James is saying is true then somebody, somehow, got hold of my lipstick. It was in my bag, in our room. So ghost or not, I’d like some answers.’
‘Jess?’ Lucas says, turning to her. ‘Surely you’re not stupid enough to go traipsing down to the beach in this weather? We can stay here, get something to eat.’
Jess glances at Moira, her mind already half made up the second Moira suggested it. She can be independent if she wants but there’s no way she’d stay up here without Mo. Moira gives her a reassuring nod and Jess crumbles the rest of the way to acceptance.
‘I’m not staying here without Mo,’ she says quietly, echoing my thoughts. ‘If we all go, surely that’s the safest thing to do?’
‘I’m not even sure I can find it again,’ James reminds us. ‘It was dark. I was drunk; I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. I don’t know how I got down there.’
‘It’s an island.’ Moira is calm, like always. Practical. At least when she’s like this I can relinquish control, and honestly I’m relieved to just follow. I’m tired of making decisions. I’m tired of getting the blame for making the wrong ones. ‘It can’t be that hard to find it. You mentioned the shack, so we can start there. And we should go soon so we’re back well before it gets dark. I know the weather is bad, but this looks like it’ll probably only get worse and I want to get this over with.’
‘What about food?’ Lucas pushes, but it’s clear to everybody that he’s lost. Moira and Jess are right. We’re safer together, no matter what the truth is; whether it’s rain or wind or a maniac ghost. ‘All I’ve had is biscuits.’
‘We eat first, then.’ Moira begins to tie back her hair, plaiting it off her face and looping it off with a practised hand. Her expression is resolute. ‘And when we’re finished, we go.’
There’s no more argument. Once Lucas realises that he will be entirely alone up here if he stays, he decides to come too. After we eat, some of us hungrier than others, we set about gathering coats and scarves and hats. We’ve got a torch, and Genevieve has managed to find a bigger lantern as well, just in case we manage to locate the cave. The lantern isn’t very bright but it’s better than nothing.
It’s cold out, but the cold isn’t the worst of it. As soon as we all pile out of the door to the lighthouse we’re hit by the maelstrom. Stinging rain and salted wind whipped wild. The clouds are thick and dark, the sun firmly behind them. It could be any time of day; could even be the middle of the night for the difference those distant beams of sun make. It seems more like nightfall than five in the afternoon.
‘I’ve got the radio,’ Genevieve says, shouting over the wind gusting between the cottage and the lighthouse. ‘Just in case there’s better signal further up. I assume we’re going back towards the shack?’
She points up the hill.
Nobody says otherwise so we set off, trudging in single file against the weather. It’s hard work, everything fighting against us. My whole body is stiff and tired, muscles aching from all of the tension. And the fear. I can’t deny that it’s singing inside me now, all joy sucked away until there’s nothing but my wounded pride and the heavy thump-thump of fear.
I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know if James is telling the truth, or if we’re all just freaking out over – over what? Even I don’t believe James would be capable of fabricating a lie this elaborate just to cover up a prank.
But then perhaps it was never meant to be a joke. Perhaps his night terrors are more than just thrashing on a sofa, terrified shouts in a warm, friendly room. It’s not too outlandish to believe he could do some damage without realising it. In which case I don’t know whether to be relieved that we’re heading out in search of a cave which may or may not exist, or whether I wish we’d all just stayed inside. Either way, I make sure I’m walking behind James, not in front of him.
We work our way up the steadily, gently sloping ground that leads away from the lighthouse. The path is thin, bordered by scrubby grass and weeds that bend wildly in the raging wind. Up ahead I think I can make out a sharper rise in the ground, a hulking shape behind it which must be the shack. I can hardly see, my face so wet and cold, but I can’t let it stop me. The sea is black and seems very high. I turn back to the lighthouse briefly, taking in the lights that wink as the wind yanks at my hair. I can see the edge of the porch, where the doors lead out of the sunroom onto the thin back veranda; the waves crash against the cliff and the spray climbs so high it seems to claw at the top of the cliff.
‘Kira!’ James calls. I turn back and he’s stopped, waiting for me.
‘I’m coming,’ I call, hurrying to catch up so we’re not too far behind the others.
‘Where now?’ Moira asks once we reach the rise where the shack comes fully into view, a crooked building that barely looks like it will withstand this storm. There’s a path that runs beyond it, but that heads upwards and then, perhaps, inland.
James stops, breathless. He glances about, taking in the shack, then looking back down the slope. From here, it looks like the lighthouse is perched right on the edge of the cliff, poised, waiting to jump in and abandon us.
‘I don’t know,’ James says. ‘Maybe we should split up?’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘Nobody’s splitting up. We should try to get down to the beach from here. What happens if we walk that way?’
I point towards the cliff just beyond the shack to the left. It’s not a sheer drop like outside the lighthouse. It seems to roll downwards more softly through tufts of grass and bracken, though it’s hard to make out with the weather battering us from all sides, even in the shelter of the shack.
‘Worth a shot,’ Moira says.
James baulks, but doesn’t have a chance to properly argue because Moira starts walking, Jess behind her. Lucas shoves his hands deep into his pockets and bows his head into the wind. Genevieve, I notice, has handed Lucas the lantern and has her phone out, holding it up high as if she’s trying to get signal.
‘Anything?’ I call.
She shakes her head.
‘Radio’s still static, too.’
As we start walking, it appears I’m right. The island slopes steeply, but not impossibly so. It’s slippery, and difficult with the wind and the rain, but there’s a sandy path carved into the earth. We head down one by one, grappling with long roots to hold onto, clouds of sand and dirt disintegrating underfoot.
Jess stumbles, letting out a whimper as she skids into Moira and the two of them are knocked off their feet.
They disappear from my vision and I let go of the roots I’m holding onto for one heart-stopping second, almost falling myself, knees buckling as my toes scrabble for purchase in my walking boots.
‘Guys!’
Lucas leaps ahead, dropping the lantern and scrambling down after them while the rest of us try to catch up. My hands are sore, my legs aching and trembling from the effort. But then I’m down on the sand and Lucas is there with both of them.
Jess is crying, Moira’s arm around her as they sit on the sand.
‘I’m fine,’ Jess sobs, shaking her hands out. ‘I don’t even know why I’m crying.’
‘Jesus, I thought you’d really hurt yourself,’ James says breathlessly, skidding next to me with the lantern in his hands.
‘As if you care,’ Lucas snaps.
James looks like Lucas has said something abominable. ‘What?’
‘This is such horse shit and you know it. How can you drag us down here and then act like you care about any of us?’
‘I didn’t want to come here!’ James exclaims. ‘I didn’t want to say anything at all. We’re not in any more danger now than …’ He stops as if realising how stupid it would be to continue, his cheeks flushed with more than the cold.
‘Exactly. If you’d told us yesterday then this wouldn’t have happened, because we wouldn’t still be here. This is your fault.’ Lucas holds out a hand for Moira to take, and then one for Jess, who limps up and brushes her hands off on her jeans.
‘All right,’ Moira says. ‘Enough. It’s okay. We’re all wound up and nervous but we’re okay. Jess isn’t too badly hurt, right?’
Jess shakes her head, wiping her face with her coat sleeve.
‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Just the shock.’
‘Right. So, what now?’ I say.
Finally we look around. We’ve come to rest at the bottom of the steep hill, a narrow sandy beach stretching to our left and right. Left would eventually lead back to the dock, past the bottom of the lighthouse, but I know that the beach must end somewhere, or else there would be sand at the base of the lighthouse itself and there’s only cliff and water that I’ve seen.
To the right the beach stretches, still thin and pale gold, curving around the island, which is vicious in places, with jagged rocks cropping out precariously, and wild, scrubby grass hiding God-knows-what. The waves on the beach are steady, foaming at the mouth, ready to swallow us up.
‘Which way?’ Moira demands.
James tilts his head. Left. Right.
‘I honestly can’t remember,’ he says.
Moira looks at me and I know why. There’s something in James’s face that we all recognise, some way that his expression has seemed to close off. It’s how he’s been acting all weekend. But now we know. He can’t lie any more – not about this.
‘Which way, James,’ I say. Not a question. The stress and anger must show because James glances skywards before pointing.
He picks the path that heads towards the lighthouse. The path that must end in a dead end. The path that ends in a cave.
‘That’s settled then,’ I say quietly. ‘Come on. We need to go before the weather gets any worse. That lantern is fucking useless.’
James holds it up to inspect and notices what I’ve already seen. It’s cracked, the plastic glass broken. And the light has gone out.
‘What happens if the tide changes?’ Jess asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘So we’d better be quick.’
Genevieve, who has been silent until now, holds her phone up high again, but I can tell from her face that it’s useless. Down here, sheltered from the wind, I can hear the hiss and crackle of the radio, plain as day.
Nothing.
Whatever happens down here, we’re not getting off this island today.
29
Genevieve
Kira shoves James to get him started, and the rest of us fall into line behind her, keeping in almost single file except for Moira, who helps a limping Jess. I am enveloped in the sound of the radio – a consistent static hum at my hip – and the rustling of damp sand underfoot.
We walk without speaking, the motivation that got us down here evaporating with every step. The others seem terrified but I don’t know how I feel. Perhaps we might be getting closer to finding out the source of the strange energy I’ve been feeling all weekend.
I don’t know what we’ll find, but I’m almost excited.
I’ve got my phone in my hand, constantly having to wipe the screen to keep it clear. There’s no signal at all down here, but I’ve still got the pages loaded in my browser from the other day and I run through them, searching for some kind of clue. Did anybody mention a woman who died on the island? Did any of them specifically mention ghosts? But it’s hard to see with the rain; the wind making my eyes narrow to slits to keep out the sand; the radio crackling away like a fire at my heels.
