Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
F eeling heartbroken, Dilly decided against opening the gallery. She needed time to gather her thoughts and wanted the morning to herself. Instead, she headed towards the lighthouse and, as she opened the door, noticed a handwritten letter on the mat, addressed to her. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she ripped it open, her heart beating nineteen to the dozen. It was from Max.
Dear Dil,
I’m sorry to leave without saying goodbye. This is a conversation I know I should have faced in person but I’m not sure I could cope, with my heart already breaking. I wish you’d been honest with me before we slept together.
The short time we spent together will always hold a very special place in my heart and I’m truly happy for your pregnancy and the new adventure ahead of you. I’ve always wanted you to be happy and that will never change, but I couldn’t face seeing you with another man and making a life with someone else when my feelings for you are so strong. They always have been and always will be.
Love always
Max x
The words ‘I wish you’d been honest with me’ cut straight through her. She wished the same. If only Max had stuck around for a while longer and let her explain… She climbed the winding staircase to the top of the tower, stepped onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, letting the cool breeze wash over her.
The two cups and plates from the night before were still there, along with the binoculars, which were lying on the floor exactly where she’d dropped them when she ran down to the jetty. Dilly gazed at the ocean. She felt like she was riding a rollercoaster; one minute she was experiencing extreme highs and the next extreme lows. She rang Max’s phone again. Once more it went straight to voicemail. She took a deep breath before blurting out a message.
‘Max, there is no father. Well, there is , obviously, as I can’t make a baby on my own, but it’s not what you think. I can explain. I want to explain, and I would have explained. I came to the boat house to see you this morning but you’d already gone. I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry. It’s always been?—’
The phone cut her off before she could finish her message. She sighed. It felt like the road to love was just full of the worst goddamn potholes, and the second she passed one she had another to swerve round. But this time it felt like her tyre was well and truly burst.
For the next ten minutes she watched the comings and goings of the harbour. Now the sun was shining there were more tourists setting up camp on the beach.
At the end of the jetty, a car pulled up and then started to slowly drive down the road towards the lighthouse. It was a classic cherry-red 1965 Ford Mustang, with gleaming chrome bumpers and round headlights, and it looked like it had driven straight out of a sixties feature film. The car had a distinctive elongated hood, and the polished exterior reflected the sunlight, giving it an almost cinematic glow. She knew who the car belonged to, so when it parked she wasn’t surprised to see Henry Snyder, the local historian, climb out, instantly recognisable in his signature attire. Whatever the weather, he always wore a tweed suit with elbow patches, a matching bow tie, and a homburg perched neatly on his head. His silver hair peeked out from under the hat, and his wire-rimmed glasses glinted in the light. Dilly guessed he must be in his mid-seventies. Once upon a time, Henry had been a journalist, the editor of the local newspaper, his articles rich with the history of the island. Now he was about to retire and lived in one of the charming pastel-coloured rainbow cottages on Lighthouse Lane.
Dilly watched curiously as Henry walked to the boot of the car and retrieved a cardboard box. Then he placed it in front of the lighthouse door and rang the bell. She hurried down the stairs to answer.
‘Hello, Henry! How are you, and what have you got there?’ she greeted him warmly as she opened the door wide and let him in. He carefully placed the box on a nearby table, then removed his hat and gave her a courteous nod.
‘Good morning, Miss Dilly,’ he replied, his voice rich with timeless old-world charm.
Dilly couldn’t help smiling. She loved the way Henry called everyone ‘Miss,’ regardless of their age or status. It made her feel as though she’d stepped into a historical TV drama, the kind where she’d be dressed in an elegant gown, shielding herself from the sun with a delicate lace parasol.
‘As you know, I love history and it’s been a significant part of my personal and professional lives. But as the years are ticking on, I’ve started to have a clear-out, and I stumbled across this box.’ He swung a glance around the lighthouse. ‘Congratulations on your new home, by the way. It’s a magnificent place to live and holds so much history for your family… which brings me to the box.’ He tapped the lid. ‘I thought this belonged here.’
‘What is it?’ asked Dilly, intrigued.
‘Every article I’ve ever written and every photograph I’ve taken of the lighthouse.’ He lifted the lid and Dilly peered inside.
‘Henry! This is a treasure trove of history,’ she exclaimed excitedly. She picked up a photograph from the top of the pile. The image was faded with age, but Dilly recognised the two people standing in front of the lighthouse.
‘Oh my goodness! This is a photo of my grandmother and grandfather,’ she said, turning it towards Henry.
‘Yes, I took that photograph on your grandfather’s first day as the lighthouse keeper. It was a momentous occasion. The islanders lined the harbour all the way down to the bay and up Lighthouse Lane. He had the best send-off. Mack was a very proud man that day and your grandmother couldn’t stop smiling.’
The photograph showed her grandparents standing in front of the lighthouse. Her grandfather looked dignified in his brand-new uniform. Her grandmother, wearing a modest yet elegant dress, stood with a hand resting on his arm.
‘I used to be fascinated by the lighthouse and the storms. There are many photographs just of the lighthouse and the weather. I thought some might provide inspiration for your paintings.’
‘Can I make a collage with the photographs for the new gallery?’
‘You can do whatever you wish. I just thought they belong here.’
‘Thank you, Henry, this means so much.’
‘I also have something I want to ask you.’
‘This sounds intriguing.’ She noticed that he looked a little emotional.
‘When I was a young boy, I was absolutely fascinated by the lighthouse, and when I was growing up your grandfather was one of my best friends,’ shared Henry, his voice full of fond recollection. ‘Every opportunity we got we spent exploring the rock pools, crabbing and swimming off the jetty. We’d race our kites up and down Blue Water Bay. Your grandfather was obsessed with the sea and I was captivated by the history of the island.’
Dilly listened, fascinated. She loved to hear tales about her grandfather. It was a glimpse into another era, when life was filled with simple joys.
‘The very first article I ever wrote that was published was about your grandfather’s first day as the lighthouse keeper,’ Henry continued. ‘It was a big moment for both of us. Mack was starting a new chapter in his life, and having my article published began my career as a writer.’
‘No way, Henry! That’s incredible!’ Dilly exclaimed, genuinely amazed. She could see how much that moment had meant to him, and it made her appreciate the shared history of their families even more.
Henry gestured towards the box. ‘You’ll find that article in the box, along with photos. I was always around this area with my camera, capturing the storms and the sunsets, so there are lots of images for you to pick through.’ He paused. ‘There are also photos in there of the worst storm that Puffin Island ever witnessed. It was a night of terrible loss, but also one of incredible bravery. Your grandfather was a hero, risking his life to save others.’
This was going to be emotional for Dilly. She hadn’t realised that night had been captured in photographs.
‘It’s about time I finally retire,’ he said with a little chuckle, ‘and I was wondering whether I could come full circle. My first published article was about your grandfather and the lighthouse, and so I would like my last published article to be about Mack’s grand-daughter, the new lighthouse keeper, if that’s okay with you?’
Dilly pressed a hand to her chest. ‘Henry, you’re going to make me cry. Yes, of course. That would be wonderful.’ It would be an experience and an honour she could treasure for ever.
‘Could I take some photos of you standing in exactly the same place as your grandparents?’
Dilly nodded, not trusting herself to speak, she was so close to tears. Henry walked back to his car and returned with his camera. He snapped a few photos of Dilly standing on the doorstep, shook her hand then tipped his hat. ‘It’ll be something to show the children.’ He winked before turning and walking back to the car. Dilly watched as he pulled away and waved as he beeped the horn, before closing the door behind her. She stared into the box. She couldn’t wait to sit down and go back in time, but first she was going to try to ring Max again. She dialled the number but it went straight to voicemail. ‘Please ring me,’ she said before hanging up.