The Library of Lost and Found(85)
Perhaps it’s best to stop fighting.
Would anyone even care?
Martha let her kicks dwindle, allowing herself to be at the mercy of the sea. She no longer tried to swim.
She felt herself sink. The water covered her ears then the top of her head, welcoming her to its darkness.
It was calmer under the surface, her ears plugged. Martha’s skirt floated up around her body like large petals on a flower, closing when daylight ends. A strange feeling of peace engulfed her and she readied herself for her feet to touch the bottom. She opened her eyes and looked up, to say goodbye to the sky.
A dark shape on the surface moved over her, like a shark, obscuring her view. She saw a shadow moving down, reaching for her. Something fastened tight around her wrist.
She tried to wriggle, to remove it, but it remained firm.
The something pulled at her arm with such force that Martha yelped and water flooded her mouth again. She gagged and felt her body tug upwards, until the top of her head broke the surface. Yellow light blared in her eyes as a beam from the lighthouse swept over her. She tried to shake the thing from her wrist but it tightened even further.
Arms crushed around her back and she didn’t fight them. Her cheeks scraped against wood, and then her chest and stomach, as she was lifted out of the sea. She saw a person, a beard and woolen hat in silhouette. Moonlight reflected in a set of determined eyes.
Then Martha felt her body and the back of her head hit against the deck of a boat.
And the last thing she saw was the moon in the navy sky, shining like a silver bottle top. Like a giant’s waistcoat button.
34
Lighthouse
When Martha next opened her eyes, she saw black-and-white checkered linoleum in close-up. She was surrounded by pale-blue kitchen units and her forehead was pressed against a table leg. She heard a door slam and saw boots and a man standing over her. His coat almost reached his ankles.
Siegfried.
She watched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Martha tried to move her limbs, but her clothes were wet and heavy, pinning her down. A large puddle of water encircled her and she instinctively tried to mop it up using her hands. “Sorry,” she spluttered. “I’m making a mess of your floor.”
She felt a weight fall on top of her legs and saw two folded gray towels. She reached down with one hand and pulled them towards her. Clutching them under her chin, she eased herself onto her knees. She was so sapped of strength she had to use the back of a chair to help her, to get to her feet.
She was dripping from everywhere, her nose, her fingertips, and water trickled down the back of her neck. Her throat crackled with salt water. With her body jerking uncontrollably from the cold, she weakly shook open a towel and wrapped it around her like a cloak. She used the other towel to wipe her face. “How long was I there for?”
“Not sure.” Siegfried was soaking wet, too. His clothes clung to him like a shroud. “Hospital?” he asked.
She shook her head, not wanting to face anyone. She was shivery and wet, and wanted to be alone. “I think I’ll be okay,” she spluttered.
“Hmm.” He stared at her for what seemed like a long time. “Wait here.” He trudged towards a room at the back of the kitchen.
Martha took this time to make a hood out of her second towel. As she rubbed her hair, she could feel that her glittery slide was missing.
When Siegfried reappeared, he was wearing fresh clothes, gray tracksuit bottoms, a hooded top and a dry woolen hat. He pointed towards a spiral staircase in the middle of the room and crooked his finger.
Martha’s legs shook as she walked slowly towards the stairs, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. She held out her hands for balance. When she looked upwards, the staircase structure looked like the cross-section of a nautilus shell.
Her feet splatted and squelched on the wooden treads as she followed Siegfried. He moved quickly upwards, but Martha clung to the handrail, afraid that her legs might give way. Her limbs felt concrete-heavy as she climbed.
When she felt sure they must be close to the top of the lighthouse, Siegfried stopped and opened a door.
Martha looked down, behind her, at the pools of water she’d left behind on each step. “I need to dry your stairs.”
He didn’t say anything and pointed into a room.
She stepped inside and saw a single bed. A small lamp shone on a bedside table.
“Rest.” Siegfried pulled the door closed behind him. She heard him head back downstairs, leaving her alone.
Martha stood for a while, her body still swaying from the movement of the sea. Unsteadily, she walked over to a large curved window and looked out at the dark sky. Below, the sea was beetle-black and strangely calm. It was wide and free and didn’t look deadly at all. She picked at her crusty eyelashes with her thumb and forefinger. Her first instinct was that she couldn’t stay here. She had to get back home.
But then she questioned, what for?
To return to an empty house?
To face Lilian’s and Zelda’s lies?
And she couldn’t leave, dressed like this. The tide was in, too, cutting the lighthouse off from the mainland.
She listened as Siegfried’s footsteps faded out of earshot.
Spotting that she was dripping onto the floorboards, Martha sidestepped onto a rug. Across the room, she saw an en-suite bathroom and made a dash for it. When she switched on the light inside, it hurt her eyes. She turned it back off and got undressed in the dark. Her wet clothes made a sucking sound as she peeled them off.