Secrets of the Lighthouse (15 page)

As they talk, Ida comes over and sits on her father’s knee. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, nuzzling his head into the crook of her shoulder. His expression
softens and he lets out a long, contented sigh. Ellen watches him and I can tell that she is moved by the obvious affection he feels for our children.

‘How old are you, Ida?’ she asks.

‘I’m ten,’ Ida replies, shyly.

‘That’s a big number, ten. You’re in double digits now. Very grown up.’ Ida smiles proudly. ‘When’s your birthday?’

‘July the eighth.’

‘A summer birthday.’

‘Last year we were in Spain for my birthday and Manuela painted my nails pink with little flowers and glitter on them.’

‘How pretty!’ Ellen exclaims. She lowers her voice, pretending to speak to Ida in confidence. ‘You know, I can do that. I’m very good at nail art. I have nieces in London
who like to have their toenails painted and decorated with jewels.’

Ida’s eyes widen. She’s a child who loves anything that shines and the thought of jewels on her toenails is more than she can resist. ‘Are they
real
jewels?’ she
asks. The grown-ups laugh at her innocence.

‘No, they’re not real, otherwise we’d have to carry you into the bank and put you in a safe. I don’t think you’d like it in a safe.’ Ida screws up her nose
and shakes her head.

‘I can see that you have imagination,’ says Daphne. ‘I’ve never thought of putting a child in a safe!’

Finbar hears the fun they are having and wanders over to the table. He wants to sit with his father, too, but there is no room. Daphne puts out her hand and he takes it. My heart suffers a
little stab of jealousy. She pulls him against her and plants a kiss on his soft cheek. I yearn to feel the texture of his skin, where it meets the hairline just above his ear. I can remember what
it feels like. I can remember what he smells like. I leave them and linger in the garden where the apple trees are just beginning to bud. Ida has hung a birdfeeder on one of the branches. I
approach and my presence disturbs the blue tits, who fly off into the bushes in fright.

After a while, Conor and Ellen leave in Conor’s Range Rover. Out of curiosity, I follow. They are now chatting away together like old friends. There’s nothing like sharing a meal to
make two people feel comfortable together. It is a short drive to the castle but a long walk over the hills. Ellen’s aunt’s car is parked outside and Conor pulls up beside it. They
remain talking a while before he gets out in order to open the door for her. He is an old-fashioned gentleman in that respect. I would wait for him in my seat, but Ellen has already opened the door
herself and is climbing out.

‘Thank you so much,’ she gushes and they are suddenly awkward with each other, as if they don’t really know how to say goodbye. I watch in amusement because I know they will
probably never meet again. Conor doesn’t go into town and he certainly won’t be going up to Peg’s to pay her a visit.

‘I’m glad I rescued you off the mountain,’ he says and he gives her one of his most charming smiles.

‘Me too, although I feel rather embarrassed to have taken up so much of your time – as well as eating you out of house and home.’

‘All that walking made you hungry. I’m constantly ravenous down here.’

‘Well, thank you again.’

‘Drive carefully.’ I can tell that Conor would like to prolong the conversation.

‘I will.’

‘And good luck with the book.’

‘Oh, yes, thank you. I shall start tonight. If I leave it any longer it’ll never happen.’

He laughs – I think he’d laugh at anything she said – and watches her climb into her aunt’s car and turn on the ignition. His eyes stray to the castle door a moment and
his face suddenly darkens. Ellen waves as she drives past him. He is distracted and waves back. He watches her car disappear beneath the burr oaks then turns his gaze back to the castle door. I
know he is fighting the impulse to go inside and look at my portrait. He remains a long while just staring at it, but he doesn’t move towards it. Eventually, he thinks better of the idea and
returns to his car.

My interest in this English girl is now aroused further, for she is possibly my only means of communication. She has sensed me once; she will sense me again, I am sure of it. I don’t know
how, but I feel I will let Conor and my children know I live on, through
her
.

I know Peg’s home well from the days when Ronan used to live there, but I haven’t been back since my death. I know the sheep and the obnoxious llama, the gentle donkey and that pig.
Mr Badger used to bark at me from the hill when I was at the lighthouse, as if he knew of the danger I was in and wanted to warn me. I stand on the hill and gaze over the sea at my death. The water
is black now that the sky has clouded over. The waves rise and fall and crash against the rocks, breaking into froth and foam. Darkness falls early in February and the lighthouse is already
silhouetted against the indigo sky. I remember the times we made love there on the grass in summer. The times he held me and whispered into my ear that I was everything to him. I remember nights
beneath the stars, gazing up at the moon, knowing that he’d do anything for me. Anything at all. Oh, what a feeling to be so loved. And now? The lighthouse was mine. My very own secret
island. The one place I truly felt safe – the one place I wasn’t safe at all.

And now, as I stand on the hill waiting for Ellen to arrive, I see a little girl in front of Peg’s house. She is dressed in white and has a radiance about her that does not belong to the
living. Her hair is long and black and yet it has a shine to it that earthly hair does not have. She is staring at me with big, bold eyes and her smile is shy but serene. I know then that she is a
spirit, but unlike me she has an otherworldly glow. I am of this world, but she? No, she is not. She is finer, as if she is made of soft beams of light. I smile back.

The door opens and Peg strides out with Mr Badger. She does not see the little girl, but that is no surprise to me. I have been in this limbo long enough to know that only very rarely do the
living see the dead. And when they do see us, there are plenty of people to call them crazy, deluded or liars. If only I knew then what I know now. But it is no good to wish for something one
cannot have, I know that too. I watch Peg and I watch the child and I suddenly realize that the little spirit is the daughter Peg lost to the sea. I don’t know how I know, I just do.

Peg is going to check on her sheep. She marches off into the field. Mr Badger walks up to the little girl and then the most extraordinary thing happens. I cannot believe it. The little girl puts
out her hand and strokes the dog’s head. She touches him with her fingers
and he feels her touch.
I notice the hair flatten beneath her hand and yet I know that she is not solid.
This spirit child is a beam of light, but somehow she can affect the material world in a way that I cannot.

Peg turns and sees that Mr Badger is distracted. She shakes her head fondly, because she believes her dog to be simply eccentric. She whistles and he pricks his ears. The little girl withdraws
her hand and Mr Badger runs off into the field. Then she follows, skipping happily after him. I look up at the sky, certain that the moon has come out and is now shining upon us. But no, the clouds
are thick and grey and the air is now damp with drizzle. There is no moon, but the little girl has a light of her own, and as she stands beside Peg, the old woman is bathed in its radiance. I
wonder whether, on some subconscious level, she can feel it.

Ellen stopped the car in a lay-by and took a deep breath. For the first time since she had been in Ireland she wanted to call Emily and share her excitement.
Oh my God,
he’s the most handsome man I have ever seen,
she said to herself.
Conor Macausland! I have just had lunch with the notorious Conor Macausland.
She closed her eyes then opened
them again to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, and gripped the steering wheel to stop her hands from trembling.

She knew she shouldn’t feel excited by a man many blamed for his wife’s death. He was obviously dangerous: the sort of man mothers warn their daughters about. But the darkness that
muddied his name served only to enhance his allure and strengthen the power of his charisma. The fact that he might be dangerous simply made him more attractive.

How suddenly this one small meeting had shifted the subterranean plates of her life. Her perspective, having been so concentrated on London, now focused in on this tiny Irish county of
Connemara. More specifically, to the wild and beautiful Ballymaldoon Castle and the compelling man who owned it. Her parents, William and her London friends faded into the blurred backdrop behind
her new focal point, leaving her aware only of Conor Macausland and the desire that had taken her so much by surprise.

She pictured his raffish smile and the indigo eyes that shone the brightest blue by contrast with his brown, weathered skin and long black lashes. The tragedy in them only served to endear him
to her all the more. She had never fallen for a man with a beard before, but there was something wild and exciting about the hair on his face, as if he were a storybook hero or a knight of old, and
it looked incredibly soft. She imagined what it would feel like against her skin and the thought made her shiver with a sense of the forbidden. She remained in the car until it was too cold to sit
there any longer without heating. Her hands were stiff with cold but her body was warm inside Aunt Peg’s heavy coat. By the time she started the engine she had projected all her desires onto
this man who seemed so capable of embodying them, and she wondered how she could contrive to see him again.

She arrived at Peg’s in a jolly mood and found her aunt in the kitchen with Ronan and Oswald. When he saw her, Bertie trotted up and nuzzled her with his wet snout.
Because she was so happy she bent down and stroked his spiky head. It was softer than she expected. ‘Well, would you look at you!’ Peg exclaimed, folding her arms across her woolly
jumper. ‘ We were about to send out a search party.’ For three people about to send out a search party they looked very settled and comfortable, Ellen thought.

‘Where the devil have you been?’ Oswald asked. ‘Your cheeks are very flushed. Have you been up to no good?’

Peg stood up. ‘I’ll pour you a cup of tea. You look cold to the bone! Have you eaten, pet?’

Ellen pulled off her boots. ‘I had lunch with Conor Macausland,’ she replied nonchalantly, relishing the effect that piece of news was bound to produce. Peg stopped in her tracks,
halfway to the Stanley, and Oswald stared at her loose-jawed, while Ronan’s face darkened with fury.

‘You had lunch with Mr Macausland?’ Peg repeated. ‘Did I just hear right, or are you messing with me, girl?’

‘Why would you go and do that?’ exclaimed Ronan hotly.

Ellen shrugged out of Peg’s coat and hung it over the door. ‘I got lost and he rescued me,’ she said, unable to turn down the light in her eyes.

‘A knight in shining armour,’ said Oswald with a sigh.

‘Yeah, right!’ Ronan added sarcastically.

‘What were you doing getting lost?’ Peg asked.

Ellen wandered in on socked feet and pulled out the chair next to Oswald, opposite Ronan. ‘I went for a walk over the hills. It was so beautiful. The sun was out, the place smelled so
delicious. I was inspired.’

‘Ah, the glory of Connemara.’ Oswald sighed again.

‘So, then what happened?’ Peg persisted.

‘I walked and walked until I thought I’d better be getting back. But I got lost. Every hill looked the same. I think I was walking in circles. I was scared, actually. I didn’t
know where I was. That’s when Conor came round the hill on his horse and rescued me.’

‘Did he brandish a sword and smite your enemies?’ Oswald teased.

Ellen tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘He invited me back to his house and I had lunch with his mother, Daphne, and his two children, who are adorable. His dog is pretty terrifying,
though.’

Peg looked appalled. ‘I should think that Mr Macausland is pretty terrifying, too.’

‘I’d say your brothers look terrifying, Aunt Peg, but when you get to know them you realize how nice they are. Conor is like that. At first sight, with his dark beard and shaggy
hair, he looked quite alarming. But he was charming, actually.’

Ronan leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. ‘Don’t be an eejit, Ellen. There’s nothing charming about Conor Macausland. Don’t be blinded by his handsome
face.’ But he couldn’t contain his curiosity. ‘So, what did you talk about?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she replied vaguely. ‘Lots of things. He asked me about myself. I told him I was your niece, Peg, and he made a joke about the size of our
family.’

‘Well, he knows Johnny and Joe well, doesn’t he, so you weren’t really a stranger.’ She put the kettle on the stove.

‘Daphne’s an artist like you, Oswald,’ Ellen added.

‘Ireland is full of artists,’ Oswald replied, unimpressed.

‘What’s he doing down here, then?’ Ronan asked.

‘It’s the children’s half-term,’ Ellen answered, feeling important now that
she
had information to share with
them
.

‘I suppose he’ll fly back to Dublin in his fancy chopper the moment it’s over,’ said Ronan.

Ellen was disappointed. ‘Do you think?’

‘He’s rarely here, isn’t that right, Mam? I wouldn’t want to show my face around here either if I was him,’ he added.

Peg nodded. ‘It was a dreadful business, dreadful. I’m not surprised he doesn’t come here more often. Every corner of the estate must remind him of his beautiful
wife.’

Ronan drained his mug of tea. Ellen noticed the furious shadow that darkened his face.

‘I had so many questions I wanted to ask,’ she continued.

‘I don’t think you’d have found him so charming had you asked them,’ said Ronan sulkily.

‘I’m not a fool,’ Ellen retorted. ‘I wouldn’t have dreamed of prying. The poor man has suffered horribly.’