The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,120

shining mirror of Cloudy Lagoon appeared close beside the road. It was vast, edged with mudflats, and a breeze rippled across its surface.

When they finally came to the National Park, Mary was already tired. They stopped to collect an envelope at the pay station and then drove on through forest and roadside bracken. As they rounded a corner, a break in the trees revealed the view over the heath to the lighthouse. Alex stopped the car and turned off the engine and they sat in silence watching cloud shadows sliding across the terrain. The lighthouse stood white on the cape, unchanged. Below, on the leeside of the hill, tucked away from the prevailing winds, were the two keepers’ cottages and the sheds. Waves were washing steadily into Lighthouse Bay and frothy skirts of foam laced the rocks.

Looking across to the lighthouse from the depths of the forest, it seemed to Mary as if she was looking back over her life to a place she didn’t know anymore. Today could be yesterday, or it could be twenty, thirty, forty years ago. It was even possible when they arrived at the keeper’s cottage that her younger self might come out to greet them. Or that Jack might emerge from the shed with a tool in his hand. Or maybe it would be Rose with her sly smile and threatening eyes at the cottage door, offering her hand as if she was a friend. Tom might even be there—a scruffy windswept boy, running up the track from the beach.

They drove on through twisted banksias and short, spreading rough-barked eucalypts. In the lower carpark just outside the lighthouse reserve, Alex stopped the car again and they all sat for a moment, staring up the hill. The gate was open.

‘I think it’s all right to drive in,’ he said. ‘The sign says it’s okay till four thirty.’ He put the car in gear.

‘Wait here a minute,’ Jacinta said, opening her door. ‘I’ll run up and speak to the caretaker.’

She was gone for several minutes and Mary took the opportunity to lean back and close her eyes. Memory lurked beneath her eyelids. She could see herself in the keeper’s cottage right now, listening to the wind fetching up under the eaves and scuffing the windows. If she concentrated she could almost hear Jack hammering away at something in the shed. Tom whistling somewhere up on the hill. The pony snorting in the paddock.

Jacinta returned with a smile almost as wide as her face. ‘I’ve got the keys to the lighthouse,’ she cried, jingling them above her head. ‘Don’t get out. They’re going to let us drive right to the top.’

As they drove up the road, Mary saw a lady waiting for them near the cottages. She was middle-aged and dark-haired, weathered. Alex lowered the electric window and the lady reached in to shake Mary’s hand.

‘Hello, Mrs Mason. I’m Diane.’ Her smile was warm. ‘Would you like to come in for a cuppa? I’ve got the kettle on.’

Mary hesitated, shaken. This woman could have been her, forty years ago. ‘Thank you. But not just now . . . Perhaps after.’

‘I’d love to talk,’ Diane said, still holding her hand. ‘It’s a shame you haven’t come before. You’ve always been welcome.’

Mary released her hand to cover a rising cough, aware that everyone was watching her. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to come back,’ she said, smiling wearily at Diane. ‘It’s not quite the same.’

‘Well, maybe another time . . .’

Mary could see herself in the caretaker’s gentle nod and her far-reaching eyes. ‘Your family?’ she asked.

‘All gone now,’ Diane said. ‘We schooled them here by correspondence until high school. Same as you.’

‘Yes.’ Mary said, remembering. The children and the books. The gloomy daytime light in the cottage. Then the children gone. The quiet in the house. The wind eating at the walls.

‘You’ll see the light hasn’t changed,’ Diane was saying. ‘My husband Tony does the upkeep. But it’s years now since she was lit. There’s still a lot of work to do, of course. Tony maintains the site and I look after the cottage. It’s different now, with all the visitors, but we still love living here.’

Mary felt tears welling. Ridiculous. A few kind words, a sliver of memory, and here she was on the verge of crying. She squeezed Diane’s hand to thank her. Then she nodded to Alex and they drove on up the road, past the large new sheds and around the sweeping curve to the top