The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,59

top of the stairs. But her father glared at her darkly from the bottom of the stairwell. He waved her back to her room and she went reluctantly, obediently, too frightened to argue. Through the bedroom window, she saw Adam on the doorstep, and then her father was out there, his back stiff and hostile. She watched their brief introductions. Her father was usually the correct gentleman, but this time he did not extend his hand. His body was tense, and beside him, Adam seemed forlorn and intimidated. She watched them walk into the street and then they were hidden by the hedge.

Her father was back too soon. There had been no time for discussion, no time for Adam to show her father who he was and how inspiring he could be. She was called to the kitchen, summonsed by her father’s imperious voice. Her parents made her sit on a chair while they discussed her life.

‘He’s a fruit picker,’ her father said, with demeaning emphasis. ‘Entirely unsuitable. And she’s not to be trusted. She’s out of control. Ruled by impulse.’

Her mother’s face was sharp with spite. ‘What can we do about it?’

Her father had answers to everything. ‘I’ve sent him away.

He won’t come back.’

Mary’s heart contracted. Her breathing was tight.

‘And what should we do with her?’ her mother said.

‘She’ll have to go to your brother’s farm on Bruny. It’s the only place that’s far enough away.’

Over dinner they worked out her future while she dripped tears into her food. She was not to ask questions. She must pack her clothes and be ready to leave in the morning. Her parents were not being unkind. They were doing this to help her. Later, she’d understand.

When they dismissed her, she organised her things as instructed. Then she stood at the bedroom window, straining into the dark, wondering if Adam was out there, waiting for her. She loved him and wanted to go to him. But how to get out? Her father had locked the doors. And how to find him?

She was humiliated and helpless. But what could she do? She was young and her parents had responsibility for her. She dared not disobey them.

The next morning, before first light, she was on the bus to Middleton to catch the ferry. And in the shadows, Jack was waiting. Her future. Quiet and serious, so different from Adam. He was the result of her exile.

14

Leon drove furiously down the beach away from the cabin. It seemed this was going to be his usual Cloudy Bay exit policy. The trip to the mountains had been painless enough, and the ride home had been quiet, with Mrs Mason pleasantly worn out by memory and the cold. And it had been peaceful, almost comfortable. Sure, they had a prickly sort of atmosphere between them, but at least it was largely honest. No pretence at niceness or anything. He hated the overly polite exchanges of most humans. His mother often said it wasn’t sociable to be as blunt as he was, but he didn’t care.

It was a pity, though, that he’d ruined it all. God knows why he’d lifted his sleeve to check the time. There was a digital clock on the vehicle dashboard. Why hadn’t he looked at that? Habit, he supposed. Sometimes he could get quite obsessive about checking his watch. Especially at the end of the day, around the time his father would be getting home.

So Mrs Mason had seen the bruises. It wasn’t any of her business. She might probe him with a few questions next time he saw her, but he didn’t have to answer. He was good at evading tricky questions. And she had no right to hear anything he didn’t wish to impart. Then again, if he wanted to hear more about the lighthouse . . .

He’d often wondered what it was like to live at the light station years ago, when the old tower was still operating. At least once each week his rounds took him down to Cape Bruny and the Labillardiere Peninsula. If he had time, he drove to the end of the road at Cape Bruny and parked the vehicle in the public carpark just past the cottages, then climbed the hill. The tower had such a sense of history and power about it. He would have loved to see it lit at night, the beams streaking out across the landscape and the sea.

The cape was so wild; it was like being at the end of