The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,121
of the hill.
At the foot of the lighthouse, Jacinta helped her out into the chill wind and they walked around the tower to the lookout. The engine room was gone now from the base of the lighthouse—only a slab of cracked concrete remained. But the view was marvellously constant. Exactly as it had been the last time she stood here. Courts Island wasn’t visible—you had to descend the rough four-wheel-drive track to see it, a feat she wasn’t capable of today. And she couldn’t see the sea stacks to the south as they were visible only on the clearest of days. But the heaving sea was miraculously eternal. Its colour might change, and its texture and the direction of its seething whitecaps. Reassuringly though, it would go on forever, rolling and rising and driving towards shore. It soothed her to think of the ocean through time: the predictability of the tides, the endless renewal of waves. When she was gone, the sea would not change, and the land would continue to lean into its thrust. It steadied her to think of this.
When she started to shiver in the wind, Jacinta took her elbow and guided her back around the tower. Alex had already unlocked the lighthouse door and was holding it open for them. They passed through into the hush of the tower, their footsteps echoing. Alex closed the door and all was quiet.
Above, the shadowy spiral staircase wound upwards. In the light chamber, the curtains would be drawn. It used to be Jack’s job each night to open the curtains and start the light; at dawn, he’d be up there to turn it off and close the curtains again. Every day, weather permitting, he’d go out on the high balcony and up onto the rim to clean the windows, rubbing off the salt smears.
She’d love to contemplate the cape from that elevated platform where the light used to wink out over the sea, but she didn’t need to go up there. The tower was already dense with memories for her. And she didn’t require the view to remember all that had taken place here; she could still see Jack’s shadow in the lantern room and hear his voice echoing and rolling around the stone walls. She drew breath to explain all this to Jacinta and Alex, but as she gazed upwards a wave of emotion collapsed over her. Then dizziness. She was whirling in slow motion, on the brink of unconsciousness.
Strong arms grasped her. Then everything darkened.
She was lying on the concrete floor. Cold and winded. Breathless. Her body was light and then heavy. Her heart was flipping. The floor was freezing against her cheek. She was struggling against blackness.
She felt hands stroking her face. Soft warm hands, Jacinta’s fingers flying like butterflies over her skin. Her granddaughter’s face slipped from light to shade, light to shade.
It was cold in the tower. So cold. She could see the bottom of the lighthouse stairs, blurry, not far from her face. She blinked upwards. The stairs spiralled above her like a lazy snail shell. And the light was blinking again. Light and shade. Light and shade. Darkness. Humming. A cough racked.
‘What happened?’ The voice was faint.
‘I don’t know. We’ll have to carry her back to the car.’
Someone was crying. The voices were far away. Tinged with humming and flashes of light. Like the tower at night. Sooner or later it would stop.
There was Jack’s voice, furry around the edges. He was looking after her. She could feel him close. His arms lifted her and crushed her face against his chest. She could smell the warm male scent of him. She could feel the protection of his arms. She felt air rustling somewhere. Fluid gurgled.
‘Her lungs are rattling.’
The voice boomed. Her head was held close. Flashes of coloured light, green, red, purest white. Jack was warm and near. She could die like this.
Then she was moving and there was bright light in her face, a rush of cold air. Jack was bending over her, folding his long straight back in two to reach her, a smile on his face to show he forgave her for everything. Those blue eyes. But now the shadows were eating him. They were mottling his face, erasing his eyes. He was nothing but mist again. Foggy.
She was aware of a roof closing over her, a seat to lean against. She was in the back of the car and Alex was frowning down at her.