The Light Between Oceans(54)

Tom looked at the locket in the palm of his hand. ‘For years, I thought she hated me because I gave away her secret. I never knew about the locket …’ His lower lip pressed upwards and he pursed his mouth. ‘It would have made a difference.’

‘I know there’s nothing I can say. I just wish I could – I don’t know – make it better for you.’

‘Mamma, I hungry,’ called Lucy as she came back.

‘No wonder, with all that running about!’ said Isabel, and swept her up in her arms. ‘Come on. Come and give Dadda a hug. He’s sad today.’ And she sat the child on his lap, so that they could both hug him tightly.

‘Smile, Dadda,’ said the little girl. ‘Like this,’ she said, and grinned.



The light came in crooked through the clouds, seeking refuge from the rain that hovered in the distance. Lucy sat on Tom’s shoulders, beaming at her towering view.

‘This way!’ she exclaimed, stabbing a finger to her left. Tom altered course and carried her down the field. One of the goats had chewed its way out of a temporary pen, and Lucy had insisted on helping to find it.

There was no sign of the creature in the cove. Well, it couldn’t have got far. ‘We’ll look somewhere else,’ said Tom. He strode up towards the flat of the land once more, and turned in a circle. ‘Where to now, Lulu? You pick.’

‘Down there!’ she pointed again, to the other side of the island, and they set off.

‘How many words do you know that sound like goat?’

‘Boat!’

‘That’s right. Any more?’

The child tried again. ‘Boat?’

Tom laughed. ‘What do you wear when it’s cold?’

‘My jumper.’

‘Yes, but what do you wear when it’s cold that sounds like goat? Starts with a “kuh” sound.’

‘Coat!’

He tickled her tummy. ‘Coat, boat, goat. Talking of which … Look, Luce, down there, near the beach.’

‘She’s there! Let’s run, Dadda!’

‘Let’s not, bunny rabbit. Don’t want to scare her away. We’ll take it quietly.’

Tom was so preoccupied that he hardly noticed at first where the animal had chosen its new pasture.

‘Down you get, little one.’ He lifted Lucy high over his shoulders and lowered her to the grass. ‘You be good and stay here while I go and get Flossie. I’m going to tie this rope to her collar, then she’ll come back nice and easy.

‘Right, Flossie. Come on, now, no buggering about.’ The goat looked up and trotted a few paces away. ‘Enough of that. Stay still.’ Tom caught it by the collar and fastened the rope. ‘There. That’s that. All right, Lulu—’ Turning, he felt a tingling in his arms, a split second before his conscious mind realised why. Lucy was sitting on a slight mound, where the grass grew more thickly than on the flatter land around it. Usually, he avoided this part of the island, which to him seemed permanently shadowed and gloomy, no matter how bright the day.

‘Look, I found a seat, Dadda,’ she said, beaming.

‘Lucy! Off that right now!’ he shouted before he could stop himself.

Lucy’s face puckered and tears came at the shock – she had never been shouted at before, and started to bawl.

He raced to pick her up. ‘Sorry, Lulu. I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he said, ashamed of his response. Trying to hide his horror, he hurried a few steps away. ‘That’s not a good place to sit, love.’

‘Why not?’ she wailed. ‘It’s my special seat. It’s magic.’

‘It’s just …’ he snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. ‘It’s just not a good place to sit, sweetie.’ He kissed the top of her head.

‘Are I naughty?’ asked Lucy, confused.

‘No. Not naughty. Not you, Lulu.’ He kissed her cheek and brushed her fair hair out of her eyes.

But as he held her, he was for the first time in years acutely aware that the hands that now touched her were the hands that had heaved her father into the grave. Eyes closed, he recalled the sensation in his muscles, the weight of the man, and contrasted it with the weight of the daughter. Lucy seemed the heavier of the two.

He felt a patting on his cheeks. ‘Dadda! Look at me!’ the child said.

He opened his eyes, and looked at her in silence. Finally, with a deep breath, he said, ‘Time to take Flossie home. Why don’t you hold the rope?’

She nodded, and he wrapped it around her hand, carrying the weight of her back up the hill on his hip.

That afternoon, in the kitchen, Lucy was about to climb onto a chair, but first turned to Tom. ‘Is this a good place to sit, Dadda?’

He didn’t look up from the door handle he was repairing. ‘Yes, that’s a good place, Lulu,’ he replied without thinking.

When Isabel went to sit beside her, Lucy exclaimed, ‘No! Mamma, off that chair! That’s not a good place to sit.’

Isabel laughed. ‘It’s where I always sit, sweetie. I think it’s a lovely seat.’

‘It’s not a good place. Dadda says!’

‘What’s she talking about, Dadda?’

‘I’ll tell you later,’ he said, and took up his screwdriver, hoping Isabel would forget.