The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,129

I do need to go. A little voice has been telling me that all night. I’m about to hurry off when I remember her trouble. ‘How’s Mouse?’

She shakes her head. ‘Not now. I’ll fill you in later. Just go.’

I hurry up the beach. She’s given me a gift—the permission to put myself first for once. Before I dive through the bush, I turn and wave to her. I’ll thank her later. I have a feeling she’ll understand.

Up at the house, Nick and Emma are in the kitchen. Nick has found himself a bowl of cereal and is pouring coffee. He knows exactly how to make himself at home. Emma is slumped at the kitchen bench with a mug and a piece of toast in front of her. She’s holding her head in her hands, and I’m not surprised she feels awful. The smell of beer is still oozing out of their pores.

She turns slowly when I come in. ‘Tom. Where have you been?’

I look around for my car keys, I can’t see them. ‘I went for a walk.’

‘There was a phone call for you. A man. Something to do with your mother.’

‘Was it Leon?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t catch his name.’

A surge of impatience washes over me.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbles. ‘I’m not the best this morning.’

I pick up the phone. Then I stop and look at them. What are they doing here, sitting in my house, watching me at this time? I want them gone. I take the phone to my bedroom and shut the door to block out their voices. My hands are shaking as I dial Leon’s number.

There’s no answer and the phone clicks to messagebank: ‘You’ve called Leon Walker from the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service. Please leave your details and I’ ll ring when I can.’

His phone must be out of range. I leave a message. Perhaps he didn’t call. Maybe it was Gary trying to contact me. Maybe everything is still all right with Mum. I ring Gary’s number and he answers with a grunt.

‘Gary. It’s Tom.’

‘What is it?’ His voice is slow, like a cat stretching.

‘Did you call me?’

‘No. I’m having breakfast. You know how it is—don’t ask me questions before I’ve had my first cup of coffee . . .’

‘You didn’t call?’

‘No. I’m still in Melbourne. We’re trying to rearrange our flights.’

Who could have called me then? Maybe it was Alex. I hang up and call Alex’s mobile, but it wasn’t him who rang either. He and Jacinta are getting ready to leave. I ask him to pick up Jan so I don’t have to wait for her.

I go back to the kitchen to find the car keys, avoiding Emma’s eyes.

‘Is everything all right?’ she asks.

‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Lock the door when you leave.’

Emma traps my hand. ‘What is it, Tom?’

I stare right through her; it’s as if I’m talking to air. ‘My mother’s dying.’

I tug my hand free. Jess is at my heels and we are outside the house, walking down the path. I open the car door. Then Emma is there, tears on her face. ‘Tom.’

I look at her and feel nothing.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me.’

I told her the night we drank whisky, but she doesn’t know that. It doesn’t matter now anyway. ‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘I haven’t much time.’

She grips the open car door and looks down at me. My hand is on the keys in the ignition and I’m ready to go. Her face is stricken. ‘I’m so sorry. If I’d known about your mother things would have been different, I can promise you that. And I’m sorry I brought Nick here. It was the wrong thing to do. Will you call me when you get back?’

‘I need to go,’ I say.

She releases the door. ‘Say you’ll call me. I feel so bad.’

I can’t reassure her. All I can think of is the road ahead of me, to Kettering and on to Cloudy Bay. Beyond that, nothing else has meaning.

Then Nick is on the deck waving the phone. ‘Tom,’ he shouts. ‘It’s for you. A guy called Leon.’

I swing the car door open again and run back up the path, breathing hard.

30

Afternoon. Soft mellow light melting through closed curtains. Mary was in her parents’ house, coiled in a chair. Jack was at the lighthouse alone. Rose was gone now, he said, she was leaving the island. Mary had been grimly pleased about this. After all that