The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,79

fits perfectly into me, straining against my thigh between her legs.

‘Come to bed,’ she murmurs in my ear. ‘I think we’ll feel more comfortable naked.’

Sometime in the night, Jess clicks into the room and pushes her head under my hand which is lying loosely on top of the covers. I stroke her head and rub my fingers slowly over the dense velvet of her ears.

If only women were as simple as dogs.

In the morning, Emma rolls over and rests her head on my shoulder. She smiles languidly, which is all it takes to set my heart tripping. I run my hand along her arm, observing the glow of her skin in the beige light cast through the curtains. She feels deliciously smooth.

‘How old are you?’ she asks.

‘Old.’

‘How old?’

‘Forty-two.’

‘That’s okay. Nine years’ difference. Age doesn’t really matter.’

She closes her eyes a moment and I ache with the burden of caring. I think I more than like her and that makes me feel afraid. I’m used to owning my own heart.

‘Have you been with many women?’ she asks.

‘Only three, including you.’

She grins, her eyes still closed. ‘I thought so. You feel fresh.’

I wonder what she means. Inexperienced? Awkward?

‘I’m sorry,’ I say.

‘What for? I like being with you. The others feel like they’re working from a recipe.’

Others?

‘Have you been married before?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’ I wait for her to stiffen, try to sense a change, but I detect nothing. ‘It was a while ago.’ My voice is tight in my throat.

She rubs the sparse hair on my chest. ‘Antarctica?’ she asks.

‘Yes.’

‘What happened?’

‘She met another man.’

‘You couldn’t come back?’

‘It was after the last ship.’

‘Of course. It always is.’ She strokes my cheek. ‘No wonder you had a tough winter.’

‘Winter’s tough for everyone.’

Her face is soft with compassion. ‘Stop trying to be so strong. It’s okay to be sad.’ She kisses my forehead, my nose, my chin. ‘That’s why I don’t do it,’ she says. ‘That’s why I don’t mix love with south. It ruins you.’

What’s this, then? I want to ask. What are we doing? But she snuggles into me, and I like the warmth and the softness of her too much to ask any questions.

19

Jacinta and Alex had arrived on Saturday morning, filling the cabin with youthful energetic joy. Mary felt as though she’d been hit by a tornado; in they came, bearing rustling bags of food and radiant smiles. At first, their activity overwhelmed her, and there was a moment of panic when she realised the letter was still sitting on the coffee table. But she managed to conceal it in her blanket before Jacinta rushed over to embrace her.

‘Nana. How are you? Look at you, you’re so thin. We’re here to feed you.’

They dumped more bags on the bench, stocked the fridge, boiled the kettle, stoked the fire. Mary was exhausted just watching them. While she sat sipping tea, they vacuumed the cabin, mopped the floors, cleaned out the bathroom and put on a roast for dinner. And now Alex was out chopping. Mary could hear the dull thock thock of axe hitting wood.

‘How’s your mother?’ she asked dutifully. It was better to have the Jan conversation now or it might mar the evening.

‘Oh, you know,’ Jacinta said. ‘The usual. She’s worrying about you and cross that she can’t change things.’ The edge of her smile slipped. ‘Have you given any thought to coming home? If you did, I’d make sure you could stay at Battery Point. I won’t let Mum boss you around.’

Mary shook her head firmly. ‘I want to be here.’

‘You’re not lonely?’

‘No, the ranger comes every day. His name’s Leon. Nice young fellow.’

‘But he’s not here for long, is he? I can’t bear thinking of you sitting here all by yourself.’

‘I’m fine,’ Mary insisted. She wasn’t completely alone. She had Jack.

‘So Mum hasn’t been down to visit?’

‘Not yet. Neither has Gary.’

Jacinta’s face tightened slightly, and Mary saw that she was upset about this. ‘I suppose Gary’s busy with work . . .’

‘And your mother’s just plain angry. She hates not getting her way.’

Jacinta tried to smile, but couldn’t mask her sadness. ‘She’s stubborn,’ Jacinta said. ‘And sometimes a bit hysterical. At the moment, it’s a full-time job calming her down. I wish she’d come here, though.’

Mary flattened her lips. ‘She will when she’s ready.’

She too wished that Jan would visit. It’d be nice to make peace with her daughter before she died—but perhaps she shouldn’t hope for the unachievable. And if Jan did come, she’d arrive with a barrowload