The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,81

the thrill of this new relationship, but at the same time he was incapable of holding back.

‘Where did you meet her?’ she asked.

‘At the antdiv. She gave a seminar. She’s a penguin biologist— just returned.’

His face clouded slightly and Mary thought she detected a shadow of doubt. When Tom had come off the ship from Antarctica all those years ago, he’d been like a little boy lost.

His face was blank when he saw her waiting on the wharf. Mary knew she wasn’t the person he was hoping to see, but Debbie had refused to come. And everything was made worse by Jack’s recent passing. Poor Jack had slipped away just days before the ship docked, unable to hold on until Tom’s return.

Mary remembered the phone call she made to the ship; the anxious surprise in Tom’s voice when he was summoned to the bridge to receive her call.

Mum. What is it?

I’m sorry, Tom, to call you like this. I’m sorry for what I have to tell you . . . But your father died this morning . . . he was so ill . . . he couldn’t manage any longer . . .

What a thing to have to tell your son over the telephone. What unspeakable pain not to be able to put your arms around him, not to be able to hold him when he needed you most. After the phone call she had rung Debbie to see if she would meet Tom at the wharf. But Debbie was convinced Tom would see it the wrong way. She said he’d take it as a signal that she was there for him.

As he came ashore, Mary watched him searching the crowd. Just in case. Holding onto the possibility that Debbie might surface from the sea of waiting faces. He had staggered off the boat like a drunk. It wasn’t just the ground that was unsteady for him; his life was adrift.

Initially, Mary had thought it was the loss of his wife and father that shut Tom down, but as time went on she realised it was more than that. Tom’s retreat into himself had also been due to the challenges of re-entering normal life after more than a year of Antarctic simplicity. The explosion of return superimposed on loss and grief had almost destroyed him. Somehow, he had continued to carry out the actions of life, but he had disengaged from it, as if it were all happening to someone else. For years now, he’d been moving around the periphery of things, always measuring the edges of life, rather than its volume. But now, in one blow, this new woman had flattened his fences.

‘Tell me about her,’ Mary said.

‘Her name’s Emma.’ His mouth softened when he said the girl’s name, and seeing him this way made her tingle with pleasure. ‘And she’s strong, Mum.’

Strength was good. ‘What else?’

‘She’s confident. Not at all pretentious.’

‘I like her already. She sounds lovely.’

He looked at her nervously. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but I’m kind of hoping I might go south with her. To work with penguins.’

The thought of Tom going south again alarmed her. Did he think he’d be immune from hurt this time? But his eyes were bright and excited. What else could she do but encourage him?

As he told her more about Emma, Mary realised how her own death would release him. He wouldn’t have to stay in Hobart waiting for her to call. That’s what he’d been doing these past years, and it had taken her all this time to work it out. It was devastating to be suddenly aware of the limitations her existence had placed on her son.

She watched him in the kitchen, filling the kettle and lighting the stove. There were more questions she wanted to ask. But she held back for several minutes, observing him while he gazed out the window, the trace of a smile playing on his lips.

‘When does Emma go south again?’ she asked eventually.

‘In four months.’

‘Is that long enough?’

‘Long enough for what?’

‘To know if she’s right for you.’

‘I already know.’

‘But does she?’

He shrugged, a frown darkening his face. ‘She’s whirling. She’s only been back a few weeks.’

Mary smiled. ‘You’re whirling too.’

‘Am I?’

‘I’m happy for you.’

He sat down, hesitating, clearly fighting with himself over something he wanted to say. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea?’ he managed finally. ‘To go south?’

Their eyes connected across space, and Mary saw hope in his face. Freedom would come after her death. And