They were all written by Daniel. His words were simple yet strong. They were emotional and expressive.
Perhaps I took after him all along, Martha told herself. And she clung to this thought.
A feeling of calm began to fall upon her and here, alone at the top of the lighthouse with Daniel’s words, she was able to view everything more clearly. She took the time to think about her family and what they meant to her. They hadn’t been perfect, but what family was?
She could appreciate what her mother went through, the choices she made, that she thought were for the best. Betty had wanted a strong, secure household for her family, after losing a true love, but it came at a price. She had to juggle a difficult relationship between her husband and mother.
Martha imagined Zelda being forced to leave her home and family behind, to start afresh someplace new, because she hadn’t been able to adapt her behavior to suit her son-in-law. She must have been so hurt and bewildered, even if she had Gina’s unending support.
Martha tried to see things from her dad’s perspective, too. A man who had fallen in love with a woman who was already pregnant with another man’s child. Someone she had loved and lost. Thomas made a promise to raise the baby, without his own family knowing he wasn’t the father. He only knew one way to do things, and that was his own.
And Lilian had known that she and Martha had different fathers and kept this secret for decades. Perhaps it had eaten away inside her and shaped her life, too.
And finally, Martha turned her attention onto herself.
She was the same person as before. But after the last week or so, what she’d done and what she had learned, about others and herself, meant that her skeleton felt it was reinforced with steel. The past was in the past, and she had to accept it and lay it to rest, so she could look to the future.
She was no longer angry at Zelda, just terribly sad about the happenings that touched decades of her, Lilian’s, Zelda’s and Betty’s lives. She could spend hours and days allowing them to mill in her mind, or she could strive to put them behind her.
I have to find the strength to move on.
Because there’s no alternative.
She decided that she wasn’t going to focus on always trying to please others. She felt determined to take the time to get to know, and love, herself. And she hoped that the warm glow of appreciation she always looked for might actually come from within.
I want to be glorious again.
Siegfried brought Martha’s supper for her, a glass of milk and hot buttered toast. Two other things also lay on the tray—an envelope and a small sheet of paper. On the paper were a few lines, written neatly in blue pen.
Suki is okay. She’s given Ben his culmination (ultimatum?)
Zelda says she’s truly sorry
Lilian sends her love
Job application deadline—tomorrow
Owen wants to take you for coffee
“How do you know all this?” she called after him, but he moved quickly away.
Martha opened the envelope and found her job application form inside. It had a yellow sticky note attached, with Suki’s handwriting on it. “Go for it,” it said.
And so she did.
In addition to the questions, Martha thought about the big box full of fancy dress costumes in her shed, and how an Alice in Wonderland outfit wouldn’t be too difficult to put together. She wrote up her idea for a literature festival, where everyone dressed up as their favorite fictional character. She put forward an idea for intergenerational reading groups, where children came together with older people, to share a love of books. She suggested promoting and expanding the reading group further. She stated that the library needed more support from head office.
With Daniel’s words surrounding her, Martha poured out her heart, about what the library and its people meant to her. The library was there when she needed it, and she wanted to devote her time giving something back.
She told her own story.
She woke early the next morning, at 5:31 a.m. Siegfried was already seated in front of his typewriter.
Martha washed the dishes while he clack-clacked away. They had found a strange easy rhythm of being in the same space together.
She placed her completed application form in front of him, knowing that she wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.
He nodded once, then opened and read it.
Martha looked out of the window. The tide was going out and her stomach was tight at the thought of leaving the calm white space that had been her haven.
Siegfried handed the form back to her. “Top marks,” he said.
He resumed his tapping away and Martha didn’t ask what he was writing. He was focused and, in his own way, seemed content.
She wanted to tell him that he’d helped to restore her faith in people and that her time in the lighthouse had helped to quiet her mind and allow for her heart to heal. But she thought that he probably knew.
At just after 7:00 a.m., she unlocked the lighthouse door. Siegfried stood beside her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his long coat.
“Thank you,” she told him. She sought out a spot on his cheek, above his beard and below his hat, and planted a quick kiss.
He gave a jerky nod and held the door open. He placed his hand inside his coat and handed her a blue envelope. It had “To Whoever It May Concern” written on it.
Knowing he’d be embarrassed if she asked what it was, Martha placed it neatly in the large patch pocket of the purple dress. Her toes were bare in the glittery sandals. She picked up Daniel’s cardboard box and held it close to her chest. She welcomed the sea breeze that whipped her hair and speckled her face with salt water. Inhaling, she held the air in her lungs for a moment before stepping onto the uneven rocks. “If I can ever do anything for you, just let me know,” she said.
Siegfried stood still, his coat whipping in the wind. “One thing,” he called back to her after a few seconds.
“What?”
He tugged his hat down farther so she could no longer see his eyes. “Stop Branda picking bloody Scandi thrillers,” he said.
36
Sisters
The beach was quiet, except for a few people walking their dogs. Something orange bobbed in the gray sea and Martha craned her neck to see what it was. A swimming cap? Don’t they know about the riptide? Then she saw it was a football. A black Labrador splashed into the sea, then swam out to retrieve it.
Sighing with relief, she looked up and saw her house at the edge of the cliff. The fence was wonky and she pictured five figures in the garden, a mum, dad, grandma and two girls. In her imagination, they waved down at her. She briefly raised her fingers in return, but they were gone as quickly as they appeared to her.
She walked across the sands and stopped in front of the teardrop-shaped cave. It was empty, dark and calm now. The sea had left behind a wet tide mark inside. It reached above her and Joe’s initials, so the white of the letters had darkened.
Martha placed Daniel’s box gently on the sand and stepped into the cave. She climbed up onto the rocks, towards the slit, to retrieve her coat and shoes. She was relieved to find they were dry, untouched by the sea. Slipping them on, she climbed back down while carrying the glittery sandals.
She walked over to the wall and stared up at the initials. She pictured Joe reaching up to write them. His hair was thick and dark, and his shoulders strong. She had locked him in her mind so that he was forever young, and that they were forever in love. She could see now that he was a figure of fantasy, representing her past happiness.
She now knew this responsibility was all hers.
She could take up Suki’s offer to seek Joe out, to find out where he was in his life. Or she could let him remain as a lovely memory.
She pictured Siegfried’s note on the side of her supper tray, and his updates. “Owen wants to take you for coffee.”