The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,61
were campers up at the Neck, and it wouldn’t hurt to drop by and see how they were going, and whether they’d adhered to the honesty system. Perhaps it was a reflection on his character, but he liked to see them flush and squirm when he cleared the box and went to ask where their payment was. Some of them had pretty fancy set-ups, with intricate tarp riggings to protect them from the rain, and gas lamps and picnic tables. Everything but the kitchen sink. They had plenty of money for a snazzy rig but were too stingy to pay a camping fee.
Being bound to the clock was a big restriction in his job. From September to February, during peak penguin season, it would have been nice sometimes to stay with the tourists at the Neck and watch the birds coming in at dusk. But he always aimed to be home by six so he could be there when his father walked into the house. That way he could try to defuse the arguments that erupted when his father was drunk, and make sure his mother didn’t receive the brunt of his father’s rage. These days, Leon was physically stronger than his father, but in the midst of a fury, his father was unpredictable and could lash out suddenly. Leon would have liked to match his father’s ferocity and teach him a lesson. But so far, he’d managed to restrain himself. Strength had to come from the inside, he kept telling himself, not from violence.
His father had been a steady man while Leon was growing up. He’d been a hard worker, toiling long hours at one of the timber mills on the island. They said he was a good cutter. Efficient on the saw. The island sawlog industry had dwindled over the years, but Leon’s father had always managed to keep himself in a job. The accident happened a few years ago. His father’s right hand got caught in a belt on the machinery that drove the saw. Surgery in Hobart hadn’t been as successful as they’d hoped. And then he’d been pensioned off.
Reg Walker had never been good at sitting around. He liked being a breadwinner, and the job had given him power and status. To him, the disability pension was a public disgrace. After a lifetime of denigrating dole bludgers and those on sickness disability pensions, he couldn’t accept his impotence. Leon had been studying in Hobart, and at first he felt sorry for his father, hearing second-hand from his mother how his morale had declined. Then the drinking binges started.
Leon hadn’t known of his father’s earlier trouble with the bottle. It was only after questioning his mother through her tears that he discovered his father had given up drinking before they were married. Apparently, he had never handled drink well—becoming boisterous and belligerent, and occasionally getting into brawls. But that was a long time ago. Since he’d given the drink away, everything had been fine. He’d almost been proud to be a teetotaller. And while he was steadily working, it hadn’t been an issue. But after the accident, bored, depressed and restless, it had only taken one lapse at the pub for his anger and aggression to surface. Drink helped him forget. But it also brought out a deeply buried ugliness.
Before knowing about any of this, Leon had come home one weekend to visit his parents in their small white weatherboard cottage just across the road from the beach. He always liked the sense of quiet that settled over him when he turned off the car engine and climbed out into the fresh Bruny air. This time, he was surprised to find the house locked. The cars were in the garage, so someone should be home. Perhaps his mother was out walking.
He went for a stroll along the beach, waiting an hour or so before he returned. His mother rarely went out for long, and his father often visited friends during the day, so he wouldn’t be home for a while. When he discovered everything still locked, he pounded on the door in case his mother was in the shower. All was quiet for a few moments and then he thought he heard movement inside. He knocked again and called out to her.
Finally she spoke to him from behind the front door, saying she was unwell and that he should come back next week. Her voice sounded strange and teary, and he knew then that something was