Meet Me at the Lighthouse

by Mary Jayne Baker

  I blinked back a tear. Memories, feelings I’d spent the last year trying to suppress were coming back, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with them: not right now.

  “All right, off you go then,” I said. “Make it quick.”

  “I had to say I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before but I don’t think I understood what it meant, not until just recently. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I’m really, really sorry for everything I did to you. And I know an apology doesn’t even begin to make up for it, but I need to offer one all the same.” His eyes were full as he sought mine. “You can’t forgive me, I know. But maybe one day you can stop hating me?”

  I sighed. “I don’t hate you. But you’re right, I can’t forgive you either. We’re not going to be friends, Alex. Let’s just try to be… I don’t know, people who can manage to be civil to each other. More than that is asking too much.”

  “Look, that girl, the one I – it didn’t mean anything. I was lonely, that’s all. You wouldn’t talk to me, kept shutting me out…”

  “So it was my fault, was it?”

  “No, it was my fault. And it was an awful thing to do, and I hate myself every day, even if you don’t.” He dipped his head to look at me, and I saw a tear starting to escape behind the geek-chic Wayfarers he always wore. “But I’ve changed, Bobs, honestly. I get it now. I’ve been doing a lot of reading, talking to people who experienced the same thing.” He swallowed a sob. “God, what you must’ve gone through. I was such a bastard to you.”

  “No arguments here.” I turned away to look at the lighthouse, my face twitching with emotion as I thought back to that whole horrible period of my life. “And you know what, Alex? I believe you. I know it didn’t mean anything. And that makes it so much fucking worse, because it means you’d casually chuck everything we had away on some seedy, empty sex.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and turned me back to face him. “It wasn’t like that. I told you, I was lonely. You wouldn’t even let me touch you when all I wanted to do was hold you, make the pain go away. Can you imagine how that felt?”

  I scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure you were having a terrible time.”

  “Look, I said sorry. I really have changed, Bobs. And I’d like to make amends in any small ways I can.” He gave a bleak laugh. “The funny thing is, Arthur was right. I actually was just trying to curry favour. I thought it’d be a start, at least.”

  “What, you don’t care about the lighthouse?”

  “Not as much as I care about you,” he said softly. “I know I can’t win you back. God knows, I don’t deserve to. But you’ll let me help, won’t you?”

  I sighed. “I suppose. But don’t think it means anything. We need all the help we can get, that’s all.”

  “We.” He shot a resentful look towards the lighthouse. “You and that chap Ross, right? Are you seeing each other?”

  “How is that any of your business?”

  “No, no, I know. Sorry.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze, and I didn’t pull it away. “Thanks for hearing me out, Bobbie. Come on, let’s go back in.”

  When I got back to my patch of wall, Mum was straight to business.

  “What did he want?” she demanded.

  “Just to talk. Apologise.”

  She examined me suspiciously. “And did you accept this so-called apology?”

  “We made a sort of wobbly peace,” I said. “He wants to help with the lighthouse. It’s not like I thought I’d never see him again, is it? Especially since he got elected to the council.”

  “Hm.” She jerked her head towards Ross. “And what does your partner have to say about it?”

  “Nothing he can say. We’re not going out, he doesn’t get to play jealous.”

  “Right.” She grabbed my roller off me and pushed me towards the soup table. “Go talk to Ross. You can swap with your sister for a bit. Unless my Mumdar is significantly off, our Jess has got something she’s not telling me, and knowing you two I’m guessing boy.”

  I laughed. “Unless she’s drunkenly bought a lighthouse as well.”

  “Oh God, don’t even joke. Go on, off you bugger.”

  I headed over to Ross and Jess, who was slicing rolls, blissfully unaware of what awaited her.

  “Sorry, Jess,” I said when I arrived at the table. “You’re being summoned for a Mum interrogation.”

  “Oh Christ,” she said, her eyes widening. “Does she know?”

  “Yeah. She always does.”

  “Knows what?” Ross asked.

  I jerked a thumb at Jess. “About our Jessie’s secret boyfriend. Anyway, sis, it’s time you came clean. Gareth’s a nice lad.”

  “That’s what worries me,” she said, pulling a face. “Don’t want Mum going into full protective mode and scaring him off.”

  “Give over, she’s not that bad.”

  “She bloody is.” Jess sighed. “Ok, I’ll leave you to the rolls. Try not to slice off any fingers, I’m off duty so you’ll have to sew them back on yourself.” She handed me her breadknife and went to join Mum for painting and the third degree.

  “Still sulking about Alex?” I asked Ross when we were alone.

  “I’m not sulking. Just wondered why you never said anything.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really like talking about it. Too many bad memories go with that guy.”

  He flung a bitter look at Alex, painting a patch of wall next to our old teacher Mr Madison. “You seemed pretty matey from where I was standing.”

  “We have to be mature about it, that’s all. Can’t avoid each other forever in a place like this.” I changed the subject swiftly. “So how’s it going in the soup kitchen?”

  “Great, the stuff’s going down a storm. Tell you what, maybe I should jack all this in and try my luck on Junior Masterchef.”

  I picked up a cup and took an appreciative gulp of the hot-and-herby orange liquid inside. “Mmm. Maybe you should, this is good stuff. Where’d you get the recipe?”

  “Er, Baxter’s. There were instructions on the back of the tin. It was easier than I thought actually, it just had to go in the microwave for a bit and bam. Soup.”

  “You cheating little sod.”

  He grinned. “Only kidding. It’s just veg and spices I chucked in a pot, think I got lucky.”

  I nudged him. “Funny boy.”

  “S’me. So what did Alex want then? I saw you going outside.”

  Wasn’t going to let it drop, was he?

  I busied myself with a roll, watching Ross from the corner of my eye for his reaction. “He wants to help with the project. I think he feels guilty about – well, what happened with me and him.”

  He frowned. “If he hurt you I’m not sure we need his help.”

  “I’d say we need whatever help’s on offer. Alex is a councillor, he’s got contacts.” I looked up at him. “Why should it bother you?”

  “I just don’t want to work with someone who can upset you this much.” He scanned my face, and I reached up to brush the last shimmer of a tear from my cheek.

  “Because we’re friends, right?” I said.

  “Yeah. Because we’re friends.”

  He caught my gaze, and there was a look in his eyes, a feeling, anguished look I couldn’t interpret.

  For a moment I was on the brink of spilling everything: what I’d seen that day on the pier, my worries about his mood shifts, his tiredness, the distance he’d been putting between us. I wanted to ask him outright if he was seeing other people, and exactly what it was we were to each other.

  “Ross, I –”

  “Excuse me, Roberta dear.” Mrs Abberley, my old lollipop lady, had approached the table and was eyeing the rolls critically through her spectacles. “Do you have any butter for these? They look a little dry.”

  The moment was gone, and the words died on my tongue.

  “Oh. Yes.” I managed a smile for her. “There’s another tub in the car. I’ll fetch it for you, love.”

 
***

  “Looks good, doesn’t it?” I said after all the painters had drunk up and gone.

  “Better than good.” Ross was smiling up at the lighthouse with a faraway look in his eyes.

  We were with Jess and Mum outside, draining a hard-earned beer each as we surveyed the old place. The candy-cane swirls looked fresh and new, the way they must’ve done in Wilf and Peggy’s day, and the dying copper sunlight dripped off the fresh glass in the windows.

  “It’s lovely to see it gleaming again,” Mum said. “Looks just like it did when I was a kid, when your aunty was alive, Ross.”

  “I’m going to bring Charlie up tomorrow,” Ross said. “I think he’ll want to see it now.”

  “Give me a ring when you do, I’ll come with you.” Mum jerked her head towards me and Jess. “Charlie and Annie gave these horrible children their first cot, you know.”

  “Really?” Jess said. “I never knew that.”

  “Yes, they did a lot for us when your mum was just a silly girl with no cash, no partner and two screaming babies. The whole community rallied round to help us get sorted. Just like they did today.”

  “It’s not a bad old town, is it?” Ross said, his eyes still fixed on his lighthouse.

  “No.” Mum turned to smile at me. “It might have started out as a mad drunken idea, but I’m proud one of my girls is putting something back in.”

  Jess glared at her. “Oi. Who’s been working her fingers to the bone slicing bloody bread rolls all afternoon, Mother Dearest?”

  “All right, both of you then. Or all three of you,” Mum said, including Ross with a sweep of her hand. “Well done, kids.”

  “Come a long way, haven’t we?” I said quietly to Ross. I felt his hand slip around mine and squeeze my fingers briefly.

  “We have. Thanks, Bobbie.”

  “For what?”

  “Being you. Don’t think there’s anyone else I could’ve made this work with.”

  I flushed. I could see Mum watching us, her eyes narrow as she downed the dregs of her beer.

  “Ross, can I have a quick word?” she said.

  “Course, Janine. What about?”

  “I’ll tell you when these two have gone.” She turned to meet my glare. “Nothing to concern you, our Bobbie. Just family stuff. I need to talk about Charlie.”

  “That better not be a massive whopper,” I said, frowning. “Don’t you two dare be talking about me.”

  Mum laughed. “What, you think we can’t find anything better to talk about?”

  “I know you, Mother. Just don’t –” I broke off, shooting a quick look at a bemused-looking Ross. “Stick to the small talk, ok?”

  “I promise.”

  “You’ve got your fingers crossed behind your back, haven’t you?”

  “I have not!” Mum protested, holding flat palms up in front of her. “Now go on, girls, piss off home.” She looked up at Ross. “And you. Stay there and listen to me.”

  I flung a last worried look over my shoulder as Jess and I headed down the hill. Mum was talking at Ross, who blinked dazedly in the flow.

  “If she’s interfering in my love life again there’ll be hell to pay,” I muttered to Jess.

  Chapter 11

  “So, what news on the Rialto?” I asked Ross. “Any word on that bid we put in to the Eric Godfrey Trust for speakers?”

  We were having a planning meeting behind a dwindling wine each at the Mermaid pub. Ross was looking more upbeat than I’d seen him for ages, not tired or moody as he had been too often lately, smiling warmly across the table. But he was still across the table. Long gone were the days when his default position was in the seat next to me.

  “No, not yet.” He puckered his brow. “Sorry, what’s the Rialto got to do with it? Is the trust based in Venice?”

  “Shakespeare reference. Let my inner pretentious bitch out for a minute there.”

  “Oh. Right. Didn’t even know you had one.”

  “Writer’s prerogative,” I said with a smile.

  He was flicking the document pile in front of him unconsciously, and my eyes dwelt on his fingers. They were long and broad, nails ink-stained in the corners, the skin on the tips hard and a little calloused from his guitar. Idly, I wondered what they’d feel like brushing the bare flesh at the back of my neck. Sliding down my back, up inside my top to unhook my bra…

  “Bobbie?”

  “Hmm? Oh.” I snapped out of it. “So, anything else to report?”

  “Just this.” Ross twitched a sheet of paper out of his pile and pushed it to me. “I mocked it up to go with the blueprints, thought it might help with bids. It’s not to scale or anything, but…”

  My breath caught as I looked at what he’d handed me.

  The print-out showed a cross-section of our lighthouse done in some 3D graphics program. Except it wasn’t our lighthouse, because this one was gleaming and brand new. A tiny band was on stage at the base, with a tiny audience watching from the balconies above, and upstairs a tiny barman served tiny drinks from a tiny semi-circular bar where the old lamp had been. As I ran my eyes over it, the dream made sort of flesh, I found myself blinking back tears.

  “Bobbie, you ok?”

  “God, it’s just like I imagined. Your aunty’d be proud.” I threw him a smile. “Clever boy, aren’t you?”

  “I’m far too modest to say. But yes. So, any news from you?”

  “Well, I finished writing that funding bid for the lottery money to cover balconies and staircases. I’ll email it over so you can give it a read.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, by the way. Brought something for you.”

  He reached into the satchel he used to lug documents around and pulled out a little object wrapped in brown paper, handing it to me along with one of his pretty eye-crinkling smiles.

  A present? I stripped the parcel of its papery skin, full of curiosity.

  Inside was a little wooden fishing boat. The blue and white paint was faded and cracked in places and a tiny fisherman in a yellow sou’wester, his face long since rotted away, was standing on the prow looking into the waves.

  “The workmen found it in the lantern room, I had to rescue it from a skip,” Ross said. “Sent it off to be cleaned for you. I thought you might like to keep it, for luck or whatever.”

  I blinked at him, touched. This was exactly what I didn’t get about Ross. One minute he’d be making with the back-off body language, flinching when he touched me, rushing off after meetings as if he didn’t want to spend any more time with me than he had to. The next he was joking and flirting and being sweet as hell with toy boats. What was going on with that boy?

  I set my lighthouse boat down on the table, where it rocked gently back and forth as if buoyed by invisible waves.

  “Wonder who it belonged to,” I said, running my eyes dreamily over the white stripe down its side. “Before, I mean.”

  Ross shrugged. “Annie maybe. Anyway, it’s yours now. Hope you like it.”

  “I love it. Thanks, Ross.” I reached down to stash the little boat safely in my handbag where there was no risk of a wine spillage in its direction. The poor thing had weathered years of neglect, I didn’t want it perishing in a sea of alcohol right at the end. Although perhaps that’s how the little fisherman would want to go.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. I was thinking about the boat, the gesture, what it meant. God only knew what Ross was thinking.

  “Hi, Bobs. Mind if I join you for five minutes?”

  I looked up to see Alex, who’d appeared from somewhere and was lurking next to our table.

  “Oh. Hi. Er, yes, don’t see why not,” I said, indicating the chair next to mine. Ross opened his mouth as if he was about to protest, then closed it again.

  Alex gave him a friendly nod. “Hello, Ross. Good work at the painting party the other week, the place is looking great. The council were singing your praises in our last meeting.”

  Ross didn’t smile. “Good for them. So what’re you
doing here?”

  I threw him a warning look, but he ignored me.

  “I’m meeting a friend,” Alex said, casting a glance over his shoulder to see if they’d arrived yet. “Spotted the two of you and thought I’d come get a lighthouse update while I waited. Anything I can do?”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Ross said. “All under control.”

  “Actually, Alex, there is something,” I said. “Do you have any contacts at that self-storage place?”

  “I’ve met the manager a few times. Why?”

  “We’re trying to arrange some secure off-site storage for sound equipment, but we’re struggling to negotiate a charity rate. The manager’s asking way more than we can afford.”

  “I wouldn’t say struggling exactly,” Ross said. “I’m wearing him down. Just need a bit more time to work on him, that’s all.”

  “He might take it better coming from you,” I said to Alex. “I mean, if you were serious about wanting to help.”

  “I don’t think it’ll make any difference, Bobbie,” Ross said. “That manager’s a tough old bugger. I was on the phone to him for half an hour yesterday and at the end of it I’d only managed to negotiate a fiver off his original price.”

  “Well, we’ll see,” Alex said. “I happen to be aware he’s just applied for planning permission to extend his premises. He might feel it’s not a good time to upset the council.”

  Ross frowned. “You’re going to blackmail him?”

  “No. I’m going to have a quiet word about the lighthouse and never mention planning permission. The blackmail will come from his subconscious.”

  “Crafty.” Ross downed the last of his wine and stood up. “Right, I’ll leave you two to catch up. See you next week, Bobbie.” He gave Alex a curt nod. “Alex.”

  “You don’t have to go yet, do you?” I said. “I thought you could stay for another.”

  “I think we’re all planned out for today. I’ve got work to do at home.” His sullen expression lifted slightly. “Unless you want to walk back with me?”

  Alex looked over his shoulder again and waved to a man in a business suit standing at the bar. “Looks like my friend’s arrived. You’re welcome to join us if you want, Bobs?”