The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,84

know of him from those ten days in the park? Would he have stood by her when she bore the child of another man? Or would she have been left with nothing? No, she couldn’t go with him. It was all too uncertain.

In the kitchen, she threw the bundle of letters into the fire. What was there to be gained from reading them? She was already shredded by remorse; she didn’t need more anguish. All that was left was to focus on Jack. She must work with dutiful humility to improve their marriage. Since they’d been in Hobart, she’d let things stagnate. Immersed in morning sickness and despondence, she’d allowed their love to subside. Now she must revitalise it. Her fervour was guilt-driven. She had kissed another man. For a wild moment, she had even considered leaving. But she had chosen Jack and she had to make it work.

First, they must find a rental home—there was no chance of happiness in her parents’ house. And then she had to learn to live with her guilt and deceit. She could tell no-one of her encounter with Adam.

She and Jack laboured on in Hobart until the lighthouse job came up at Cape Bruny. It was a beacon of hope. The island represented her bond with Jack. They needed to go back there to find each other again. And paradoxically, it was in that place of hope that she discovered the unreliability of hope.

At the light station, she’d made the mistake of allowing fantasies to pervade her marriage. When Jack had withdrawn, she sustained herself with daydreams of Adam. She indulged in idealised visions of a picker’s life—the excitement of being on the road, going places, meeting people. She imagined the peaceful orchard cottage they would share. In her loneliness, she let Adam slip between her and Jack, causing damage, deep and wide. She clung to him long after she ought to have let him go. And there had been a cost. In the end, it had rendered her vulnerable.

And now here she sat, listening to her son Tom, and he was telling her that this time he was safe in love. What could she say to warn him? It had taken her years to understand that love was not safety. To comprehend the impact of her secret passion for Adam. Yes, she might have had a different life with Adam, possibly a relationship with more intensity and less distance. But then again, perhaps not. Love was more than desire. And Adam had not navigated life’s storms with her as Jack had. He hadn’t been with her in the wretched fog of parental tiredness. He hadn’t weathered the tedium of ordinary days, financial pressures, the anxiety of decisions, the concerns about their children’s future. That was the sum of a marriage—tenacity, the strength to bear the mundane, and the accumulation of shared history.

20

I’m at home stirring up a bolognese sauce when the phone rings. When I hear Emma’s voice my pulse lurches and I fumble the spoon.

‘Two things,’ she says. ‘First, can you take Friday off? I want to take you rock climbing at Freycinet.’

I’ve already taken today off to visit Mum, but perhaps if I put in a couple of big days at work, I’ll be able to catch up.

‘Second thing,’ Emma continues. ‘I spoke to my boss about taking you south, and he wants to know if you can come for an interview at three o’clock tomorrow.’

More time off. Just as well Bill appreciates me. ‘Where should I meet you?’ I ask.

‘Just go to the front desk and have them call me.’

She’s about to hang up.

‘Emma.’ I try to hold her on the phone. I want to hang onto the sound of her voice.

‘What?’

‘I’m looking forward to seeing you.’

Her laugh is like music. ‘You’ll just have to wait.’

My dieso mate, Bazza, says Emma’s boss Fredricksen is a typical boffin—aloof, a bit elitist and always dreaming up crazy, impractical ideas. He never lets his hair down or mixes it with the tradies.

We’re having a cup of coffee in the workshop before the interview. I point out that not all boffins are like that, but Bazza won’t back down. Emma’s boss is one of the old school, he says; hasn’t been south for years and does all his research from behind a desk. Bazza reckons he’s never seen such a disorganised office. From the mess of the place it’s a wonder he can get anything done. It’s a regular fire trap. There must