The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,125

along the side of the house, knock on the door of the bungalow. There’s no answer. Maybe she’s gone up to the main house.

I knock again. This time, I hear a noise. Tentatively, I let myself in, and walk through to the bedroom. Emma is curled up on the bed, turned away from me, quivering with sobs. For a long moment, I stand awkwardly at the door, then sit beside her and stroke her hair. She doesn’t turn around.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry.’ And I wish I could stop saying it. Not all of this is my fault. She’s hungover and miserable and irrational. There’s nothing I can do to console her.

She rolls over, finally, her face tear-streaked, and looks up at me. ‘I’m ruining everything,’ she sniffs. ‘I’m messing up everything between us.’

At least she’s acknowledging she has a role in this warped sequence of events. I help her sit up and she leans against me heavily, burying her face against my chest. Her cheeks are wet on my shirt.

‘Are you all right?’ I ask.

She shakes her head against my shirt. ‘No. I’m a mess. It’s so damned hard coming back. I forget each time how awful it is.’

‘You’ll get there.’

‘Oh God, I hope so. I can’t cope with being like this for long.’ She lifts her head and snorts into a handkerchief stashed under her pillow. ‘Can we try again?’

I nod helplessly, but my heart is churning with doubt.

She kisses me on the lips and pads into the bathroom, leaving me sitting on the bed. I glance at the picture of her at Béchervaise Island, standing outside the field hut. She looks so incredibly alive in that photo—so wild and released and open. She’s wrapped in layers of thick windproof gear and her face is alight and vibrant. That’s the Emma I want. The girl that grasps life. Not the one who shies from it and creates complications where there don’t need to be any; a bit like me.

When she comes back, I offer to make tea, but she smiles tiredly and says she needs sleep. She’ll be more rational tomorrow, she promises.

I watch as she undresses and tugs on pyjamas. Then she turns to me forlornly, like a child. I wrap her in my arms and she snuggles against my shoulder briefly before wriggling under the doona. I tuck it around her, and after I kiss her on the forehead, she rolls away, cosily drifting towards sleep.

I feel more like her father than a lover.

When I get home the answering machine light is blinking. I play the message; it’s Jacinta, and she sounds distressed. My mouth goes dry with fear as I listen.

‘Tom, I’ve been trying to call you, but you’re not answering . . . It’s bad news. We took Nana to the lighthouse today and she had a turn. We wanted to get her to hospital, but she won’t have it, so we’ve brought her back to the cabin and now she’s recovered a bit. Unfortunately, we can’t stay here tonight because we have a commitment back in Hobart. Nana keeps insisting she’s all right, but I don’t want to leave her on her own. Given that I can’t get onto you, I’m going to ring Leon now and see if he can keep an eye on her till you get here. Hopefully, you’ll get this message and make it across before the last ferry.

I’m ringing from the carpark at the end of the beach because this is the only place you can get reception without climbing a mountain or driving for miles. Ring me as soon as you get this message, will you? We’ll probably be on our way back to Hobart by then.’

I look at the time. Four o’clock. I ring Jacinta’s number.

‘Tom, thank God it’s you.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘We’re on the ferry.’

‘What about Mum?’

‘Leon’s down there with her, and he says he doesn’t mind staying the night, which might be just as well, because the wind has really come up and they’re talking about shutting down the ferry.’

‘I need to get down there.’

‘Tom, I think she’ll be okay. It was pretty scary when she had the turn, but she brightened up at the cabin, and we left her tucked in bed with a hot cup of tea. She should be better after a rest.’

‘I feel like I need to do something.’

‘Maybe you could make some phone calls.’

‘Gary and Judy are away at some hospitality conference in Melbourne. Should I leave a message on