The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,8

the bunkroom.’

Jacinta frowned and went to look in the room, leaving the case where it stood. When she came out she sat down on an old armchair by the window and stared at Mary. ‘One of the beds is made up in there.’

‘Is it?’ Mary feigned surprise.

‘What’s going on?’

Over Jacinta’s shoulder, Mary could see the sea rolling in. A Pacific gull flapped slowly up the beach, hanging on the breeze. This was the moment she’d been dreading. ‘I’ve organised to stay here,’ she said. ‘It’s all arranged. I’ve rented this place for a month, and I’ve paid for a Parks ranger to stop in and check on me each day to make sure I’m all right.’

Jacinta looked at her without moving.

‘Everything will be fine,’ Mary went on, trotting out the reassuring spiel she had rehearsed so many times in the past few days. ‘The ranger can get me anything I need. If there are any problems, he can help me . . . if I run out of milk or whatever. And I’ve told them about my health. Everything I need is in the suitcase.’

‘What about your medication? And what if you’re ill? There’s no electricity and no telephone. If you run out of gas, you’ll freeze.’

‘There’s a spare gas bottle outside.’

‘What about food? You won’t feed yourself properly.’

‘I’ve paid to have the place stocked. And I can cook, you know.’

‘But you won’t. You’ll have a tin of baked beans or something ridiculous like that for dinner. Not real food.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Not if you get ill. They don’t even have a hospital on the island.’

A taut silence spread between them. In truth, Mary’s failing health was part of the reason for escaping. Part of the reason for being here, away from Jan’s grip.

Jacinta’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘You could die out here, Nana.’

‘This is where I want to be.’

Tears slid down Jacinta’s cheeks, challenging Mary’s resolve. But she held herself strong. She had known she’d encounter opposition.

‘Mum will be furious,’ Jacinta said.

‘This is my decision.’

‘But it affects other people.’

‘Like who? Your mother?’ Mary’s anger flared. If Jan had her way Mary would have been booked into a home months ago.

‘You know she only wants what’s best for you.’

‘Is that so? Surely I’m the best judge of that.’

Jacinta scrubbed her face with her wrist, wiping away tears. ‘Mum will say you’re not rational.’

‘Of course she’ll say that.’

‘You know she’ll persuade Gary. And she’ll work on Tom too.’

Mary shook her head. Of Tom’s loyalty she was certain. She and Tom knew each other without words. ‘Your mother might influence Gary,’ she said, ‘but Tom won’t listen to her.’

They lapsed to silence again and rain started to patter on the roof. Outside, soft mist wrapped around the cabin. The sea was steely grey and chopped with whitecaps. Mary felt her nerves settling. She would hold strong. There was no argument that would take her back to rot in Hobart. She was here for her own purpose; for Jack. And she would not allow Jan to slot her into a home. That was the nub of it: she was taking action before Jan could make her a captive.

Jacinta tried again. ‘I can’t let you do this, Nana. It isn’t safe.’

‘Life isn’t safe.’

Jacinta pleaded, ‘Can’t I just bring you down here on day trips? I can take time off work and go for walks so you’ll be alone.’

‘It wouldn’t be the same. I need time by myself down here.’

Jacinta stared out the window. ‘Mum’s going to be so angry.’ She sighed and stood up to check the kettle in the kitchen.

Mary regretted having to bring Jacinta into this. And her granddaughter was right. Jan would be furious. Down here, Mary was beyond her sphere of control. In recent times, as Mary deteriorated, it seemed Jan had relished the notion of taking charge. She was always asking about her health, almost swooning with delight each time Mary had an attack of angina. Mary wondered how such animosity had entered their relationship. Over the years she’d tried to appease Jan; taking her to lunch, meeting her for coffee after school, cooking roasts. When Jan’s husband left, Mary had supported her through the anger and grief. She’d even gone to the movies with Jan a few times, despite the pain of her arthritis in those cramped cinema seats. But the rift was too great. Mary had accepted an uneasy truce.

‘Why here?’ Jacinta was saying. ‘Why not at the lighthouse? At least there’d be someone around. And