The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,97

Unfortunately, no pirates. Yes, the wind really could bowl you over. They had seen a few sailing boats wrecked, and they’d assisted stranded sailors. No treasure had yet been found on Courts Island, but perhaps it might be there. And finally, yes, children could go up the tower these days—on guided tours with their parents. Back then, they were only allowed on special occasions.

‘Is the tower still functional?’ a scout leader asked.

Mary explained that yes, the tower could still be used, but it wasn’t. The old light had been decommissioned in 1996, replaced by an automated beacon on the adjacent headland. She smiled sadly; Jack had detested automation. The beacon was a stunted thing, locked into the ground by concrete. It was cheaper to run and more efficient than the original light. Now the lighthouse keepers had become caretakers: they maintained the light station as a historic site and recorded weather observations for the Bureau of Meteorology so aeroplanes could land confidently at Hobart airport.

The caretakers were custodians of the stories of the lighthouse keepers. This was as precious as the lighthouse that stood as a monument to them. To those that lived there long before Mary’s time.

The boys were getting restless and Mary could see their legs jiggling from inactivity. Of course they were done with it. They had listened well, but history was for old people, not for young things zinging with energy. She should stand up to finish and thank them . . . but as she struggled out of her chair, her legs wobbled and the breath seeped out of her. She felt herself sway, and there was an unusual lightness, as if all her blood was draining to her feet.

Suddenly, Jack was there in the branches above her, swimming in light. She felt a flush of heat. The trees spun. She heard panting. Then, all was quiet and black.

When she woke, Leon was leaning over her. She recognised his shape, hazy and undefined. The blur of his frown. Above him, the tops of trees swayed.

She was cold. So very cold. And heavy. Leaden. She closed her eyes, hearing the wind sighing in the leaves . . . or was it the pumping rush of blood, the sound of her own heart magnified in her ears? When she opened her eyes again, Leon was lifting her head to place a blanket beneath.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

She tried to struggle up, but he pressed her down gently. ‘Lie still a moment. You fainted.’

She relinquished herself to heaviness and felt blankets being drawn over her.

‘Here’s a cup of tea,’ someone said.

And then someone else: ‘Is she going to be okay?’

Leon was sitting beside her on the ground. ‘Don’t get up till you’re ready.’

It seemed she’d never be ready. She lay beneath the weight of the blankets, breathing shallowly. There was a great lump somewhere on her chest that was pressing, pressing, and then she was coughing, curled in a foetal ball. She rolled to her side, looking for something to spit into. Leon pressed a bowl beneath her face and then, thank God, she could breathe again.

He helped her to sit up and someone placed a warm cup of tea in her hands. She was feeble. Cold. Stiff. And her body was slow. Her lips were stubborn and refused to form words.

‘Don’t try to talk,’ Leon said. He paused. ‘Should I find a doctor? I can send someone for the nurse at Lunawanna.’

‘No,’ she croaked. ‘I’ll recover in a while.’

As she slurped tea, she began to feel stronger. Leon sat by, his face furrowed with worry. The scouts and their leaders had dispersed to other activities in order to give her some privacy.

‘I’m better,’ she said, after a while. ‘And I have a request.’

He raised surprised eyebrows.

‘The track up East Cloudy Head. After I’ve rested a little longer, could you support me so we can walk up there a short way?’

‘What?’ Leon laughed. ‘That’s a joke, right? You’re having me on.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I want to go up there.’

‘You just fainted. I’m taking you back to the cabin.’

She saw the firm line of his lips and knew that the issue was closed. She felt a twinge of regret. She wouldn’t be communing with Jack up on the head today. And there wasn’t much time left. Her opportunities were shutting down.

Leon reassured the scout crowd that she was recovering. Then he lifted her into the car, the cup of tea still in her hands, and drove back down