The Lightkeeper's Wife

2



When the car mounted the rise over the dunes and the silver waters of Cloudy Bay spread out before her, Mary felt a sigh rise from deep within. The great flat stretch of yellow sand was just as it had always been. Quiet. Moody. The epitome of solitude. This place marked her beginnings with Jack. The two of them young and unscathed. They had grown wild in the wild air. Jack still lingered here with the sea mist; she could feel him. He was waiting for her.

As they drove down past the landlocked lagoon onto the sand, a white-faced heron startled from the shore, trailing gangly legs as it lifted into lilting flight. Pacific gulls rose chortling into the air. On the beach, Jacinta stopped the car, and Mary soaked up the ambience.

She opened the door and Jacinta helped her out. Then she patted her granddaughter’s arm and Jacinta stepped away, leaving her to shuffle down the beach on her own. At the high edge of the tide, she bent stiffly to take a handful of sand. It was fine and grey, slightly muddy. Kneading the soggy graininess of it in her palm, she gazed into the distance where the beach arced east to the far headland: Cloudy Corner and East Cloudy Head.

Down by the water, the Pacific gulls had gathered again in loose flocks, facing seawards. Mary knew that if she could run and scare them, they’d lift as a unit into the air and then congregate once more further along the beach. They needed each other’s company to stare so steadfastly south in this lonely light. Everything here was dense with latitude. If you headed south from this beach, there was nothing until Antarctica.

‘Nana, let’s get out of the wind. I don’t want you to get cold.’ Jacinta came up behind her, taking her hand.

Mary pulled gently away. ‘I’ll be all right. I’d like to walk a little more.’

She wandered slowly east, focusing on the distant dark shadow of East Cloudy Head where it humped against the sky. She used to go up there with Jack, pressing through the untracked scrub, scratching herself on bushes. They used to forge a route up towards the southern aspect of the head so they could climb nearer to the sky. They’d stand there, close and exhilarated, with the sea pounding over the rocks below, and the Southern Ocean all around, stretching east, south, west.

She paused to draw breath, taking in the cold stiff air. The hint of seaweed. The thick scent of salt. This place renewed her. It was life itself. She smiled and closed her eyes against the chill. She was right to come here.

‘Nana. Please hop in. It’s cold.’

The car pulled up beside her, and Mary realised she’d forgotten her granddaughter. There was so much within and around her that was not of this time. She glanced into the car, her features flushed, high on memory.

‘Please, Nana. The wind is freezing.’

Jacinta helped her back in and they drove slowly along the sand, windows down so Mary could feel the air. The beach slid smoothly beneath the wheels of the four-wheel drive.

‘Can you take me right down to the end?’ Mary asked. ‘I want to show you Cloudy Corner. There’s a campground just short of the headland. You and Alex might like to camp there sometime.’

When she’d first come to this part of the island—on a camping trip with Jack’s family—there was nobody else around. It was wilderness. They’d camped in the bush. At night they sat on the beach in the dark feeling the waves come in, soothed by the rhythm. And that view south; the arc of the bay, the dramatic cliffs etched with shadows.

‘Does Alex like to camp?’ she asked Jacinta, dragging herself back to the present.

Jacinta sighed. ‘He does. But we don’t seem to fit it in very often. Life’s so busy.’

‘You should bring him here. It might help you slow down. Give you some time for making decisions.’

‘Yes. We need to get out of Hobart more. It hems you in, doesn’t it? City life. Even in a small city. It’s been months since we got away.’

Mary wanted to tell her that it was important to remember how to live. The young thought life was forever. And then, there you were, on the brink of decline, regretting time not used well. Yet if you lived with that knowledge of time passing—driven by intensity—perhaps meaning would evade you in your very quest to find it. Perhaps it was all right to live as Mary had done, letting life’s tide drop experiences in her lap. She’d made the best she could of everything that had washed up over the decades.

‘Thank you for coming here with me,’ Mary said.

Jacinta smiled at her. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it.’


At the far end of the beach, Jacinta faced the car to the water and they sat quietly absorbing the atmosphere; the gush of the waves riding in, the buffeting of the wind at the windows, the scrub shifting and sighing behind them.

‘I was five when you first brought me here,’ Jacinta said, staring out over the rocks of Cloudy Reef where cormorants sat in a cluster, drying their wings. ‘I thought this must be the end of the earth. You told me that if I sailed directly south for seven days I’d come to the ice. The edge of the land of penguins. That was magic for me.’

‘Just like Tom.’ Mary knew about the draw of Antarctica. She’d almost lost her younger son to its mysterious magnetism.

‘Do you think he’ll go back?’ Jacinta asked.

Mary shook her head. ‘I think he dreams of it. But he lost so much last time. I don’t think he could go through that again.’

‘Perhaps it’d be different if he went now.’

‘And maybe not.’

‘Poor Tom.’

Yes. Poor Tom. He still bore the wounds of his time south.

‘Mum doesn’t come here anymore, does she?’ Jacinta said, looking out to the constant rush of waves. ‘I’ve never understood it.’

‘Maybe you can spend too much time in a place like this.’

‘You don’t feel that way, do you?’

‘No. I miss it every day. But I’m not your mother. Not everyone feels at home in the wind.’

‘It suited you and Grandpa,’ Jacinta said. Then she laughed. ‘Mum says you two were a good match.’

Mary hesitated. ‘Your grandfather and I . . . complemented each other.’ She thought of Jack’s silences, and of her own fortitude. No-one else could have survived those years at the lighthouse with him.

‘I didn’t know Grandpa very well,’ Jacinta said.

‘He was a hard man to know.’

‘Why was that?’

‘He was probably born that way. His childhood wasn’t easy. He worked hard on the farm from a young age. I suppose the lighthouse didn’t help.’

‘I thought he loved it.’

‘Yes, but you can lose yourself in all that space and time.’

Mary often wondered what would have happened if she’d realised this earlier. Maybe she could have done more to help him. Perhaps she could have pulled him back. Stopped the drift. Softened his moods. But that would have required her to be a different person; someone without housewifely duties and children and their lessons. She had done all she could at the time: cooked his favourite meals, kept him warm, deflected the children from his impatience, massaged those poor arthritic fingers, so gnarled and wooden. But the wind was insidious. It had worn him down the same way it erodes rocks, and turns mountains into sand, and makes headlands into beaches.

Jacinta was gazing out to where the wind was picking up the crests of waves and flicking them skywards in fizzing white spume. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said. ‘But it’s cold. We should close the windows and turn up the heater.’

‘What? And blow away the smell of the sea?’

Jacinta reached over and squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘Your skin’s like ice, Nana. Remember, you’re my responsibility today. Is there a thermos in the picnic basket?’

‘I forgot the thermos.’ Mary’s face folded into quietness. Now was the time. ‘There’s a cabin back along the beach a way,’ she said, restraining the tension in her voice. ‘Did you notice it as we passed? It’s just over the dunes. Let’s go and see if we can make a cup of tea there.’

Jacinta looked doubtful. ‘Do you think we can do that?’

‘I know the owners. They won’t mind. It’ll be unlocked.’ Mary’s skin tingled and she held her breath as she waited for Jacinta to acquiesce.

‘I suppose we can have a look . . .’

Jacinta turned the car and drove back along the beach while Mary sat tight and still, struggling to subdue her mounting excitement. She waved a casual hand to show Jacinta where the track turned off, but as they swung up over the dunes, lurching over the rise, Mary’s heart was dipping and curving too.

‘Thank goodness for four-wheel drive,’ Jacinta said, a smile lighting her face. She was struggling to hold the car straight while the sand grabbed at the wheels. They parked on the grass beside the small building.

It was a log cabin, painted brown, with three big windows facing seawards and a grand view over the low coastal scrub to the flat expanse of the beach. Mary could see the tide running in and the hulk of the headland stretching south across the bay. On the front verandah there was a wooden picnic table and an old barbeque collecting rust.

Jacinta turned off the engine. ‘Are you sure it’s okay for us to do this? Someone might be staying here.’

Mary was already opening her car door. ‘I rang ahead to check. They’re expecting us to pop in.’ She slid out hurriedly, awkwardly, knowing she must usher her granddaughter inside before she could ask too many questions. Soon Jacinta would discover that not all had been revealed. She shuffled to the steps, noticing the sound of the sea rising over the dunes and the twitter of fairy wrens in the hushed lull between waves. ‘Could you bring the suitcase, please?’ she flung over her shoulder.

Jacinta was standing by the car, frowning. ‘Why do we need the case?’

‘Bring it inside and I’ll show you.’

Mary opened the door wide. Then she picked up a box of matches and a handwritten note from the kitchen bench.

‘What’s that?’ Jacinta asked from the doorway.

‘A note from the owners.’

‘Oh, good.’ Jacinta sounded relieved. ‘They really were expecting us.’ She set down the suitcase.

‘You didn’t believe me?’

‘I was beginning to have my doubts.’

‘Now you can stop doubting. Let’s turn the heater on. It’s cold in here.’

Jacinta took the matches. ‘Will the gas be on? Or should I go outside and check the bottle?’

‘It should be on.’

Jacinta opened the curtains and then squatted to light the heater. ‘Why don’t you sit on the couch?’ she said. ‘There’s a rug you can put over your knees.’

While Mary arranged the blanket around her legs, Jacinta filled the kettle and set it on the gas stove. She lit the ring and shook the match to extinguish the flame. ‘So this is why you didn’t bring a thermos.’

‘I forgot the thermos.’

‘But you knew we could get a cup of tea here.’

‘Yes.’

Jacinta stared at her for a long moment and Mary could feel her suspicion rising. ‘What’s going on, Nana?’

Ignoring the question, Mary gazed out the window, unsure how to give her granddaughter the truth without making her angry. Conflict was rare between them. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Stalling, she studied the weather. Rain was coming in off the sea and the grey curtains of a squall were closing in. ‘How’s that kettle going?’ she asked.

‘It’ll take ages. The water’s freezing. What about your tablets? Is it time?’

‘They’re in the suitcase.’ They both turned to look at the case standing upright near the door. ‘Would you mind taking it into the bedroom?’ Mary asked, trying to control the quiver in her voice. ‘The furthest one. With the two single beds. Not 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 a telephone.’

Mary shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t have felt right, staying in my old house. It wouldn’t be the same. And the keepers’ cottages are too cold.’

It was more than that. Too much had happened at the lighthouse. If she stayed there, she couldn’t dodge all that. She had needed to come here, where she could remember Jack at his best, before the distance and solitude of the cape seeped into his soul.

‘I’m sure the cottages have better heating these days,’ Jacinta said.

‘No. It’s more peaceful here. And I can see the sea.’ The cottages on the cape hadn’t been built for the view; the kitchen windows faced the light tower on the hill. The lighthouse authorities wanted people to have their minds on the job.

The kettle boiled at last and Jacinta made tea. She grunted when she opened the gas fridge and found it well provisioned— further evidence of Mary’s deception. She placed some biscuits and a cup of tea on the coffee table and sat down again.

‘I don’t like this, Nana,’ she said, taking Mary’s wrinkled hand. ‘But I suppose this hasn’t been easy for you either. And it’s not for me to tell you what to do.’

Now it was Mary’s turn to blink away tears.

Jacinta’s sigh was heavy. ‘Why did you choose me to bring you here?’

‘Because I knew you’d understand.’

‘Not Tom?’

‘He’s less able to cope with Jan than you are.’

‘You’ve thought of everything.’

‘I tried to. I don’t want to cause any trouble.’

‘This is trouble.’ Jacinta stood up, hands on hips. She laughed a little brokenly and Mary’s heart twisted. ‘You tricked me into bringing you here.’

‘I didn’t want to trick you.’

Jacinta gazed out the window and Mary felt distance swimming between them. ‘I’m sorry, Jacinta.’

Jacinta smiled shakily down at her. ‘It’s okay. I’ll get used to it. But I think I’ll go for a walk, if you don’t mind. The rain’s stopped and I need some fresh air. I’ll get my coat from the car.’

She gave Mary a hug and then went out into the wind. Mary heard the car door bang and saw her stride over the dunes onto the beach. It was good for Jacinta to get out into the weather. Her spirit would be soothed and the wind would settle her; when she came back she’d be calm. It always worked that way. There was space out there for a heart to grow large. Mary had lived her life knowing this secret.

And for life, you needed a large heart.