The Lighthouse by Fran Dorricott

Author:Fran Dorricott [Dorricott, Fran]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2021-11-11T12:00:00+00:00

SUNDAY

21

Moira

After Jess finally falls asleep I toss and turn all night. For the first time in weeks she’s out like a light, snoring a bit with her mouth open, her hair spread across the pillow. And for once it’s me that can’t switch off. I’m sure the wine has something to do with it, but I have to admit I’m a bit envious of the way Jess has managed to pretend nothing happened today. Instead of sleepy, all I feel is sick, my head already woolly with the headache I know will hit me hard tomorrow.

I turn onto my side. The curtains are slightly open where I was a bit slapdash with them earlier, a slim band of silver moonlight striping directly into my eyes. I wince, closing my eyes, letting myself drift into the memory of a couple of hours ago, of Jess’s lips on mine, skin to skin. It’s been a long, long time since we’ve had that sort of frenzy drawing us together.

It’s the island. It must be. It’s the tension of earlier. The alcohol and that fizzing sense of something rumbling barely under the surface. I know the others aren’t enjoying themselves, but I’m still stuck on the relief of getting Jess out of London, away from home for a bit. It’s been easier tonight to push all of that away and try to think about something else.

The moonlight on my face feels calming now. I crack one eye open slightly and shift so the beam of light doesn’t blind me. It feels like the whole world is shattered: silver and black. For a second it looks as if the world is tilting, like there’s something moving across the surface of the window. My heart leaps, but it’s only a shadow, only a bird or the wind blowing a leaf against the glass.

I sink back and play over what Genevieve told everybody earlier. Now that I’m trying to sleep I keep returning to it, the sleepy heaviness in my limbs still not enough to switch off my thoughts. I can’t help but compare the girl who died here to Emma. They were the same age. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about what it would be like to bring Emma here. I can’t think of a scenario where I would ever feel safe with her that close to a cliff, to those crashing waves and a ten-foot drop …

Then I realise. That’s how Jess feels all the time. The dangers I can see here, the situations my mind can conjure when I think of Emma here – that’s what Jess sees whenever she leaves the house. Sometimes it’s small things – doors slamming on little fingers, soft palms pressed against a hot iron – but sometimes it’s more. Too many cars on the street, pedestrians pushing at a crossing; a stranger in the park pretending to be a lost tourist. I’ve avoided thinking about Emma here because I know I wouldn’t feel safe bringing her here. Jess can’t turn those thoughts off.

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