Lighthouses

by Trost, Cameron

  As he opened the door, his mother’s voice cut through him. ‘Tony! Who was that on the phone?’

  Tony shrugged. ‘Wrong number.’

  ‘Oh well, good luck.’

  ‘Thanks, mum.’

  He raced out the door and set off down the hill as fast as possible. He didn’t want to face any more uncomfortable questions, and the faster he moved, the further he got from the need to tell more lies. He’d also been taught that white lies were necessary at times, and he figured that when Jimmy was safely back at home with the family, no one would really care how or where he was found.

  Tony decided to head in the general direction of the lighthouse. Perhaps make a few minor detours on the way, one past the brewery and perhaps another near the canal. Jimmy had loved to walk beside the canal, watch the narrow boats drift by. He always attracted plenty of attention from the owners, who would often stop to pat Jimmy and chat to Tony. By the time he reached the lighthouse, his parents would be well on the way to the hospital and Tony could start his real search.

  He reached the brewery just as the workers were taking a break.

  ‘Hey, Tony,’ a tall, powerful man shouted, waving his hand as if reaching for something on a shelf.

  ‘Hi, Mr Lang,’ Tony replied, smiling broadly.

  ‘Have you found Jimmy yet?’

  ‘No, but I’m spending the day looking for him.’

  ‘Have you tried the canal? I’m sure he’ll be down there.’

  ‘I’m heading down that way next.’

  ‘And your parents, how are they?’

  ‘Good. They’re visiting a friend of dad’s at the hospital today.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I better let you get on your way. You ain’t gonna find anything in life standing round talking to blokes like me. Best of luck, Tony.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Lang, and if you see him, please let me know. There’s a reward, you know!’

  ‘A reward! Well, I’ll let everyone at the brewery know.’

  ‘Get back to work, you lot!’

  Mr Lang nodded at Tony, then headed back to the large wooden door that had seen more sunrises than any of the men.

  Tony did a lap of the brewery, as well as checking the old disused stables that lay to the east side, hoping that Jimmy had chosen it as a place to get out of the elements. Finding no trace of Jimmy, he strolled casually around the back of the stables, took a glance over his shoulder, deciding this was his chance. He headed onto the path that sat nestled between the overgrown grass either side of it. He hurried along the first section of the path till he was certain he was out of view of anyone in the vicinity. From there, Tony estimated it’d take around twenty to thirty minutes to reach the lighthouse.

  As he walked, the stories his grandfather had told him when his mother was away crept slowly to the surface. One of the more memorable had been the drowning of the last lighthouse keeper. There was speculation his wife had pushed him off the cliff. Others said he’d fallen when carrying out some maintenance, and others still believed he’d jumped when he learned his wife had fallen in love with a wealthy businessman from a nearby town; she later married the man and moved to another town leaving no doubt in the minds of some locals. There were other stories of children disappearing but his grandfather had said they were well before his time. His grandfather had enjoyed creating various stories as to how and why they’d gone missing and Tony would always lay in the dark transfixed. At the end of each one, Tony’s grandfather would always give him the opportunity to offer his own opinion or idea as to what had happened. His grandfather’s stories were like small explosions in Tony’s mind, ones that kept him up at night, deciphering the various scenarios, weighing up the most probable. In the morning, he’d offer up his opinion of the story as they went for their morning walk.

  Tony put thoughts of his grandfather aside as he heard a noise behind him. He stepped off the track to the right of the path and crouched motionlessly in the grass.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ said a teenage girl who was tucked into a small clearing on the opposite side of the path.

  ‘What?’ the male voice said as he raised his head to look about. Tony held his breath. He could just make out the face of the boy and recognised him as being from the neighbouring high school. The boy was well known to Tony and his friends, he’d often terrorise them or others as they walked home of a weekday. Tony stayed dead still, hoping not to attract his attention.

  ‘You’re hearing things,’ the boy said moments later, much to Tony’s pleasure. The bully kissed the girl and ducked down again.

  After a couple of minutes, Tony made his way for a short distance through the grass before returning to the path when he felt a safe distance from the couple.

  The smell of the sea grew ever stronger and Tony’s senses heightened. He continually scanned the bush around him for any signs of Jimmy.

  The first sight of the lighthouse made his heart beat stronger in anticipation. Was Jimmy there? If so, how had he got here? Suddenly, the path ended and Tony stood still, the lighthouse before him, the cliffs edging ever closer.

  A sign to Tony’s right read: Beware! This area is hazardous. No entry permitted.

  A small dilapidated fence stood between himself and the lighthouse. Large strips of paint dangled from the lighthouse, intertwined with vines that crept up the tower like snakes slowly suffocating prey. Tony thought about all the people in the town who’d talked about the eventual demise of the lighthouse. The day when the sea would reclaim what she thought was rightfully hers. Tony had always secretly hoped to be here to witness it crashing into the ocean below. He thought about how spectacular it would be, better than any fireworks show.

  His gaze shifted toward the door of the lighthouse, subconsciously realising something was out of kilter. The door seemed slightly ajar.

  He moved closer, stepping through a section of the fence with several palings missing. He noticed a large rusted padlock sitting on the ground.

  Tony stood staring at the door, considering his next move. Had Jimmy somehow gotten into the lighthouse? Was the man on the phone taking care of Jimmy or perhaps holding him against his will?

  He looked out to the sea. The wispy peaks of waves in the distance made Tony think of his grandfather and one of his favourite sayings when the two of them used to go out exploring nearby towns. Tony would sometimes hesitate when the bus doors opened, and Mr Taylor, the bus driver, would look down sternly at Tony from his seat. Tony’s grandfather would say, ‘We didn’t come here to sit at the bus stop. We’re going on an adventure.’

  He stopped momentarily and picked up a rock that lay beside the door. Drawing back his arm, he threw it with all the strength he could, an offering for the ocean. He looked back at the door and reached out slowly for the handle. He knew the only way to find Jimmy was to go on an adventure.

  Tony stepped inside and was met with two choices; a small climb leading to a doorway or a long descent into the unknown.

  Deep down, Tony knew Jimmy hated climbing, so reluctantly, he headed down the steep narrow stairs. At first, the stairs were narrow and poorly lit, but to Tony’s surprise, they widened as he carried on, and after several minutes, he saw a doorway with a wooden frame. He stooped and looked down the corridor toward the end. It seemed to veer off to the right. Below him, the stairwell continued winding ever further into the unknown.

  Tony wandered slowly down the corridor. The damp mouldy smell of the walls now permeated his lungs, making each breath a little more laboured. After a couple of minutes, he looked back and could no longer see the stairwell he’d come from.

  ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, can you hear me?’ Tony stood and waited listening carefully.

  Continuing for a time, he started counting his steps. When he reached nine hundred and twenty, he suddenly stopped. Bright lights lay ahead. He cautiously made his way, ensuring no one was behind in case he had to retreat in the direction he’d come. Tony could now make out the outlines of a wooden table and wh
at looked like teapots and lamps. The corridor widened before him, lifting slightly the feeling of claustrophobia that had crept in.

  He reached a place that seemed somewhat like an antique store. Chairs, tables, vases, wooden carvings, paintings, oil cans, as well as discarded pieces of wood sat here and there, scattered in a kind of disarray. Tony looked deep into the store and was able to see a small counter that stood with a pile of papers and a bell. He approached the desk hesitantly, carefully placing his feet as not to alert anyone of his presence and allowing his eyes to fully adjust to the dimly lit surroundings.

  ‘May I help you?’ a voice said, startling Tony and causing him to almost knock over a carving of a giraffe that sat propped against the wall.

  ‘Ah,’ Tony stammered, unsure of what to say.

  ‘Are you looking for a present, or is it something for yourself?’

  Tony looked carefully about the store. Once his eyes had fully adjusted, he could see the room stretched much further than he’d first thought.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘It’s for a special lady, isn’t it?’ The man winked. ‘I have just the right something for those occasions. Step this way.’

  ‘It’s a dog.’

  ‘A dog! A present for a dog! Unusual yes, but I’m sure something suitable is just staring us in the face. This dog you say, how big is it?

  Tony put his hand halfway between his thigh and his right shoulder in line with the large blue stripe that travelled across his grey t-shirt.

  ‘The thing is, mister, I’m not looking for a present for him. I’m looking for him.’

  The man squinted his eyes as if attempting to see something far away in the distance. ‘You’ve lost your dog?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry to bother you. I better get going. I’m sure he’s not far from here.’

  ‘A lost dog, of course. Well, why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ he said, a smile erupting across his face.

  Tony’s heart raced ahead of him, imagining the excitement when he and Jimmy walked through the door, and his parents’ excited cry as all the family was reunited.

  ‘Just wait a moment. I think I can help you.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Tony could hear the man talking to himself as he rummaged through the room, moving things about.

  ‘Here he is,’ the man said, holding a white cat in his arms. The cat was squirming about, especially keen to escape his grasp.

  ‘Oh,’ Jimmy’s head dropped. ‘I’m sorry, mister. That’s not Jimmy.’

  ‘Not Jimmy!’ the man said accusingly, a look of hurt in his eyes. ‘Well, of course, it is! Can’t you see? Just a moment,’ he said impatiently. The man crouched and began busily dusting off bits of dirt and a few remnants of small leaf matter that had gathered in the cat’s fur. ‘There you go! Good as new!’ The cat settled and looked up at Tony, bewilderment in its eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, mister, but that’s just not Jimmy.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind, young man? You know its Jimmy, stop these ridiculous antics. Did your parents teach you nothing?’

  ‘But, mister, Jimmy is a dog, and that’s a cat.’

  ‘Are you telling me I don’t know the difference between a cat and a dog? Outrageous! You young people have no respect for the elderly. How dare you come into my shop and accuse me of lying!’ The man turned and momentarily fiddled with some tools that lay in the drawer just behind him. He pulled out a pen and hastily wrote something. A few moments later, he turned back to face Jimmy. ‘Now you can see it’s Jimmy.’

  The cat was wearing a small brown collar. The word Jimmy hastily scrawled across it.

  Tony hesitated, not wanting to send this man into another one of his tirades.

  ‘Just a moment,’ Tony stood, looking about the shop carefully, weighing up his next move.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Tony said, casually walking toward the exit, trying to decide whether he could outrun the man. He looked back at the man and the cat. In the cat’s eyes, he saw terror, as if it were begging to be released. Tony took a few steps outside the shop and looked in both directions down the long corridor. No sign of Jimmy. He stood and took a deep breath. He then let out every last bit of air in his lungs. He turned and approached the man, who was examining Tony closely. ‘You’re right, mister. That’s Jimmy.’

  ‘Finally, you’re talking sense. If only you weren’t so stubborn, so strong-willed. You must be all kinds of trouble. You’re lucky I’m not your father. You’d cop a belting for telling those kinds of lies.’

  ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, mister, but may I have Jimmy now?’

  ‘Of course, but what about my reward? I found him after all!’

  ‘A reward?’ Tony raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Well, of course, I found him.’

  ‘I don’t have much.’ Tony reached into his pocket and took out a few coins he’d been given for washing the windows of some of the cottages in his neighbourhood. He placed them in the old man’s hand.

  ‘It will have to do!’ The man passed the cat to Tony. The cat let out a small cry of relief.

  ‘Well, off you go! I don’t have time to stand around and talk to little boys who don’t take proper care of their pets.’

  Tony left the shop, glad to see the back of the man. He carried the cat until they got well clear of the store, then placed him down on a grassy area that lay beneath a small hill. Tony sat down next to the cat and they looked at each other in relief.

  ‘I guess we’d better work out your name.’

  The cat looked off up the hill, not caring much for names.

  ‘What about Smokey?’ Tony said, brushing off some of the dust that had accumulated on the cat’s fur. ‘Or Oscar,’ he said with doubt in his voice. ‘I know, Shadow.’

  The cat let out a little cry and licked Tony’s hand.

  ‘Shadow it is!’

  Tony stood and looked up the hill to where a few trees were scattered, moving about slowly in the wind. ‘Let’s get going, Shadow. We’ve gotta find Jimmy.’

  They made their way up the hill, following a seemingly disused track littered with spiky weeds and the fallen braches of a couple of storm-damaged trees. When they reached the top of the hill, a gentle easterly wind blew across Tony’s face. In the distance, he was able to make out a small circular stone structure that sat on the western side of a fence that zigzagged across the countryside below.

  Tony decided to pick Shadow up and carry him for a time. Whenever he placed him down, he’d slow his pace, allowing Shadow to leisurely survey parts of the area as they made steady progress toward the stone structure in the distance. After a time, they reached the fence. Tony hoisted himself up on the wooden beam, making sure he didn’t snare his jeans on the barbed wire. Shadow comfortably squeezed beneath the lower beam and waited for Tony on the other side.

  As they closed in on the stone structure, Tony’s gaze lifted to the sky and the cottony cumulus clouds that drifted slowly in the distance. He thought about his parents and how proud they’d be at the effort he’d made to find Jimmy.

  On reaching the stone structure that stood a few metres in diameter, Tony was relieved to discover it was a working well. A sandy coloured rope was attached to a small tin bucket that sat a few metres down in partial darkness. Tony attempted to push the handle with one hand but soon realised it wasn’t going to do. He then engaged his left hand as well and shortly after his right foot. Finally, the handle yielded and the bucket was on its way.

  After a short time, Tony felt the resistance of the water below. He wound the handle in the reverse direction with all his strength. Shadow jumped onto the wall and looked into darkness, fascinated by the sound the rope made as it whirled through the pulley system.

  When the water reached daylight, Tony helped himself to a generous serving. He then cupped his hands and distributed it to Shadow, who happily lapped up the contents. Satisfied, Tony leaned against the well and quickly drifted off to sleep. Shadow happily curled up beside him.


  After a time, Tony was woken by a few drops of water on his face. A woman was standing above him, her beaky grin appearing like a ray of sun through a cloud. ‘Sorry ‘bout that, young man.’

  Tony scrunched up his eyes several times, trying to work out if he was still dreaming.

  ‘You from ‘round here?’ she asked, before taking a large gulp of water and then filling the large container she’d had strapped to her back.

  ‘I’m looking for my dog.’

  ‘That him?’ the woman said, pointing in the direction of Shadow, who was a short distance away, chewing carefully on some insect he’d found lounging in the grass.

  ‘That’s Shadow. He’s a…’ Tony stopped, remembering the conversation he’d had with the elderly man in the store.

  ‘He’s Shadow. I’m looking for Jimmy.’

  ‘I see,’ the woman said, nodding at Tony before fixing the lid and returning the container to her bag. ‘Do you know these parts well?’

  Tony was cautious of giving too much away.

  ‘I’m stopping at the village just a little further on. It’s on my way home. Come with me if you like. Perhaps someone there has seen Jimmy.’

  Tony looked at Shadow, who was busily licking his fur having finished off the last part of the insect.

  ‘Sure, why not.’

  He picked Shadow up and started following the woman.

  ‘Do you need any help with that?’ Tony pointed to the bag on the woman’s back. ‘This, oh, it’s nothing. I’ve had plenty of practice.’ She winked at Tony and continued in the direction of the clouds gathering on the horizon.

  After a time, she stopped and looked back thoughtfully in the direction of the well. Tony stopped and looked around, expecting to see something. He continued searching until he could make out several small blemishes moving about hurriedly on the hills in the distance.

  ‘What are they?’

  He looked at the woman, surveying the wrinkles that flowed from the corners of her eyes.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ the woman said.

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  Tony saw the stress lines appear on her forehead.

  ‘You planning to be out after dark?’