The Light Between Oceans(35)

‘Come on, let’s read Sleeping Beauty instead,’ he said, and took up the fairy tales, though he found it hard to concentrate.



‘Here you are – tea and toast in bed, ladies!’ said Tom, resting the tray beside Isabel.

‘Careful, Luce,’ said Isabel. She had brought the toddler into bed that Sunday after Tom had gone to extinguish the light, and the child was clambering towards the tray to reach the small cup of tea Tom had made her too – hardly more than warm milk with a drop of colour.

Tom sat beside Isabel and pulled Lucy onto his knee. ‘Here we go, Lulu,’ he said, and helped her steady the cup in both hands as she drank. He was concentrating on his task, until he became aware of Isabel’s silence, and turned to see tears in her eyes.

‘Izzy, Izzy, what’s wrong, darl?’

‘Nothing at all, Tom. Nothing at all.’

He brushed a tear away from her cheek.

‘Sometimes I’m so happy it frightens me, Tom.’

He stroked her hair, and Lucy started to blow bubbles into the tea. ‘Listen, Miss Muffet, you going to drink that, or have you had enough for now?’

The child continued to slobber into the cup, clearly pleased with the sounds.

‘OK, I think we’ll give it a rest for now.’ He eased the cup away from her, and she responded by climbing off him and onto Isabel, still blowing bubbles of spittle.

‘Charming!’ said Isabel, laughing through her tears. ‘Come here you little monkey!’ and she blew a raspberry on her tummy. Lucy giggled and squirmed and said, ‘’gain! ’gain!’ and Isabel obliged.

‘You two are as bad as each other!’ said Tom.

‘Sometimes I feel a bit drunk with how much I love her. And you. Like if they asked me to walk one of those straight lines I couldn’t.’

‘No straight lines on Janus, so you’re all right on that score,’ said Tom.

‘Don’t mock, Tom. It’s like I was colour-blind before Lucy, and now the world’s completely different. It’s brighter and I can see further. I’m in exactly the same place, the birds are the same, the water’s the same, the sun rises and sets just like it always did, but I never knew what for, Tom.’ She drew the child into her. ‘Lucy’s the what for … And you’re different, too.’

‘How?’

‘I think there are bits of you you didn’t know existed until she came along. Corners of your heart that life had shut down.’ She traced a finger along his mouth. ‘I know you don’t like to talk about the war and everything, but – well, it must have made you numb.’

‘My feet. Made my feet numb more often than not – frozen mud’ll do that to a bloke.’ Tom could manage only half a smile at the attempted joke.

‘Stop it, Tom. I’m trying to say something. I’m being serious, for goodness’ sake, and you just send me packing with some silly joke, like I’m a child who doesn’t understand or can’t be trusted with the truth.’

This time Tom was deadly serious. ‘You don’t understand, Isabel. No civilised person should ever have to understand. And trying to describe it would be like passing on a disease.’ He turned towards the window. ‘I did what I did so that people like you and Lucy could forget it ever happened. So that it would never happen again. “The war to end all wars,” remember? It doesn’t belong here, on this island. In this bed.’

Tom’s features had hardened, and she glimpsed a resolve she’d never seen in him before – the resolve, she imagined, that had got him through everything he’d been through.

‘It’s just …’ Isabel began again, ‘well, we none of us know whether we’re around for another year or another hundred years. And I wanted to make sure you knew how thankful I am to you, Tom. For everything. Especially for giving me Lucy.’

Tom’s smile froze at the last words, and Isabel hurried on. ‘You did, darl. You understood how much I needed her, and I know that cost you, Tom. Not many men would do that for their wife.’

Jolted back from some dream world, Tom could feel his palms sweating. His heart started to race with the urge to run – anywhere, it didn’t matter where, just as long as it was away from the reality of the choice he had made, which suddenly seemed to weigh like an iron collar.

‘Time I was getting on with some work. I’ll leave you two to have your toast,’ he said, and left the room as slowly as he could manage.





CHAPTER 14



WHEN TOM’S SECOND three-year term came to an end just before Christmas 1927, the family from Janus Rock made its first journey to Point Partageuse while a relief keeper manned the light station. The couple’s second shore leave, it would be Lucy’s first voyage to the mainland. As Isabel had prepared for the arrival of the boat, she had toyed with finding an excuse to stay behind with the little girl in the safety of Janus.

‘You okay, Izz?’ Tom had asked when he saw her, suitcase open on the bed, staring blankly through the window.

‘Oh. Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘Just making sure I’ve packed everything.’

He was about to leave the room, when he doubled back and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Nervous?’

She snatched up a pair of socks and rolled them together in a ball. ‘No, not at all,’ she said as she stuffed them in the case. ‘Not at all.’