Chapter Fourteen
‘Thank you, Ms Knight.’ The boutique manager, clad in a satin navy jumpsuit, holds open the door, not-so-subtly signalling that it’s time for me to leave. ‘We’ll be in touch.’
Yeah, somehow I doubt that. I completely bombed the interview, I stumbled over my previous experience, I could barely come up with answers to any of the questions, plus I was so nervous and sweaty, I started to get paranoid that I smelled bad. And to think, I was naive enough to believe I might actually have had a shot at impressing them! It seems I might know how to shop at a designer boutique, but I sure as heck can’t work for one.
Yet I still plaster on my bravest smile and politely respond, ‘I look forward to hearing from you, Mrs Lake.’
As I step out of the shop to the bitter chill of the street, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from bawling in the middle of the town square. My first job interview in years, and I blew it.
Without a decent income, I won’t be able to pay for my daughter’s extracurricular classes, contribute to household costs at Mia’s, or save for a deposit on a place of our own. Head hanging low, I traipse through spitting rain, the cold dread of failure squatting down in my tummy.
I’ve let everyone down.
It’s rotten how you can put your all into something, you can try so hard, but still, you end up flat on your face. My marriage went the same way, I was willing to put in the effort, to play the dutiful wife, but somehow, I ended up losing everything. I wish I had someone, anyone to talk to, but I’m running low on allies. Both Mia and Kat are busy with work, Mum doesn’t get it, and I haven’t spoken to Rosalind since we met at the beach. I imagine she filled Tamara in on everything, so I doubt she’ll be interested in hanging out either.
Well, I guess there is one other person I could reach out to …
I pull out my mobile phone and flick through the contacts until I reach Noah’s number. My finger hovering over the screen, I chew at my lip, dithering over whether or not this is a good idea. He told me to call him, but surely it would be wrong for me to do so? I mean, Jerry and I haven’t even spoken about divorce yet, we haven’t spoken at all.
And yet, all I can think about is that secret old lighthouse, and Noah’s sea-shaded eyes …
Before I lose my nerve, I tap out a quick text:
Hi, it’s Claire. Meet me at the lighthouse?
In mere seconds, I have a reply.
I’ll be there in ten.
Sparing no time to question my sanity, I race through the crowd in the square, dodging pushchairs and ducking out of the way of errant umbrellas. Finally, I reach the old, crumbling building. It’s probably not the safest place for a casual meet-up, and yet, Noah and I can’t resist the hold it has over us.
My heart pounding beneath my pale blue blouse, I do a quick make-up check in my compact mirror and spritz a little perfume at my neck before wedging the warped door open. When I ascend the spiralled steps to the light chamber, I discover Noah sitting cross-legged on a picnic blanket with a hamper full of treats at his side. Wow, he’s really pulled out all the stops for this little tryst.
‘I thought since it’s lunch time, we could do with a little snack.’
‘Noah, that’s so sweet!’ I lower myself onto the blanket and he hands me a plastic flute filled to the brim with an amber-brown, sparkling drink. ‘You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.’
‘Ah, it’s no biggie, I was going to grab a bite to eat when you messaged anyway. Besides, I got the impression from your text that you needed cheering up.’
‘Well, this definitely worked!’ Gratefully, I help myself to a strawberry and sip from the flute, which causes my nose to wrinkle of its on accord. ‘What is this drink?’
‘Dandelion and burdock, I’ve been obsessed with the stuff ever since I was a kid. Did you know it dates back to the Middle Ages?’
‘I didn’t, but I’ll remember that useful nugget of information!’
Chuckling, I go in for a second sip. You’d think it would taste like cola, but it’s much earthier, sort of herby. Still, it’s difficult to imagine medieval monks gulping down the stuff!
While I tuck into a ham and cheese bloomer, Noah crosses the room to the desk, where he begins leafing through the mass of documents laid out across it. I draw my gaze around, and notice it’s a lot more chaotic in here than usual. ‘What happened to this place?’
‘Me, that’s what happened.’ Noah groans as he drops a box of yellowed pages onto the desk, releasing a large plume of dust. ‘I’m searching for a missing log book.’
Curious, I walk over to his side and examine the papers. ‘One of Henry’s?’
He nods. ‘There’s a year’s worth of records missing, and I can’t work out where they might be.’
‘Maybe he just didn’t write anything down that year?’ I suggest, rather unhelpfully.
‘I don’t think that’s it.’ Noah turns to look at me, his eyes bright and intense. ‘According to the town archives, Henry himself disappeared one summer, and no one knows where he went. One day he was here, manning the lighthouse as usual and the next he just … vanished.’
An inexplicable, chilly breeze tickles the back of my neck, causing me to shudder. ‘Ooh, that’s kind of creepy!’
‘Yep. I’m compiling all the other logs together for my book and it’s been quite eye-opening.’ He edges close to me and the fresh scent of his skin sends me dizzy. ‘Check this out, it’s is the last thing he wrote in the final log. The log I can find, I mean.’
He holds the book out to me and I read the cursive script:
I can hear her singing. Over the sea and in my mind, her beautiful voice fills my thoughts.
‘Wow.’ I glance up at Noah, though a strange coyness takes over and I can barely meet his eyes. ‘That’s quite a line.’
‘It’s rather poetic, huh? If only I knew what it meant. If I could find the final log book before he went missing, it might go some way to solving the mystery. Well, wherever it is, it’s not here.’ He runs his fingers through his hair, leaving a silver trail of cobwebs. ‘I’ve searched through all these drawers, gone through boxes of documents, and there’s nothing.’
Picking my way through papers, I sidle up next to him. ‘Come on, I’ll help you tidy up.’
We work in companionable silence with rustling papers the soundtrack to our efforts. Every now and then, our hands or arms brush, and each time, a strange sensation skitters over my skin, like a shock of lightning. As I lean over to grab one of the boxes from the desk, my hip just clips Noah’s.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ Heat floods my cheeks and I have to fight the sudden urge to fan myself with a log book.
‘No worries, it was my fault. I was in your way,’ Noah replies.
‘Have you always been into history, then?’ I ask, trying to distract myself from the tingle chasing up and down my leg where we touched.
‘Ever since I was little kid. I used to dig holes in the garden and search for ancient artefacts, much to my parents’ dismay.’
An image of little Noah with a spade in his hand and mud smeared across his cheek springs to mind, and I can’t help but giggle. ‘That’s sweet.’
‘I kind of fell into this job, funnily enough. While I was studying for my Masters degree, I started volunteering at the historical society. By the time I’d finished my dissertation and gained my Masters, they offered me a full-time position. I got promoted a few times over the years and when Mr Mathers retired, he made me the new head.’
‘You must have been a hard worker, for them to make you the head of the society.’
He shrugs modestly. ‘I try. So what’s your situation?’ He turns to look at me. ‘What do you do for work?’
‘It’s … complicated.’
Noah pulls a strained, apologetic face. ‘Ah, have I put my foot in it?’
‘Not at all, it’s just … well, I’ve never had to have a job, but I’ve found myself in a position where I need to find one. ASAP.’
Noah nods, silently encouraging me to continue, and I’m a little unnerved by his consideration. I can pour my heart out with Mia and Kat until the cows come home, but it’s been a long while since I’ve had such undivided attention from a man.
‘I haven’t worked since I was in my early twenties, and all I did was part-time sales in a shop and bar-tending at the student union. I didn’t even finish my degree, so I’ve no sort of higher education.’
‘Well, if you got into university, you must have your A Levels, and your GCSEs. Those are not to be sniffed at.’
I shrug. ‘I suppose so. Anyway, let’s not talk about that rubbish. Tell me more about Henry and the lighthouse.’
‘Really?’ It’s comical, the surprise on his face, sort of boyish and endearing, and it effortlessly coaxes another smile out of me. ‘You’re sure you don’t find all this old stuff boring?’
In the past, I’d probably turn my nose up at the notion of sifting through papers and diaries written by some guy from goodness knows how many years ago. But lately, something has shifted. Perhaps it’s the loss of all my expensive hobbies that’s stoked my interest, but I really do want to know more.
‘Actually, I don’t. I think it’s fascinating.’
A glow of pink edges along Noah’s cheekbones. ‘I’m glad. It’s nice to have someone who I can share my passion with. Outside of work, I mean.’
‘I wish I had a passion, besides motherhood, of course. There’s nothing I get excited about, except perhaps my morning latte.’
‘Sure there is!’ he insists. ‘You just haven’t discovered it yet.’
I could argue the opposite, but I’m already on a downer from this morning’s disastrous interview, so instead, I let him get on with telling his lighthouse keeper stories. It’s a wonderful distraction, and I find myself captivated by the tales he tells.
As I listen to Noah, waxing lyrical about Sunny Shore Bay’s surprisingly rich history, I begin to wonder if perhaps I do have some passion in me after all …