Frazer Lee - The Lamplighters

Thankfully, the wind had died down a little and Marla decided to take a different route back from the lighthouse. She felt warmed right through by the heat of the strong coffee Vincent had given to her. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity of exploring this new part of the island before heading back to do more chores, knowing full well she’d only mope around at the summerhouse anyway. The path across the rocks presented her with two new routes. One was a pebble-strewn path that thinned out in the distance around the headland. The other was a steeply tiered craggy outcrop leading down to the sea, its twists and turns making it seem almost like a natural spiral staircase. Feeling adventurous, she chose the latter and carefully began her descent down the rocky steps. It was slow going, especially when she reached the sharp turns, bending down then clinging onto lichen-covered fissures in the rock. Slowly she lowered herself bit by bit down towards the sea, which she could see lapping and swirling at a sandy cove far below.

Turning another corner and sliding down onto a particularly huge boulder, Marla could now see that the cove was actually quite large. Much of it had been hidden by the gradient on the way down but now she could see it in all its glory, a wide expanse of virgin sand sheltered from the wind by the huge rock face that bordered it like a gigantic windcheater. At the far end of the cove was an inlet, a cave, with a spiky overhang of blackened stone. Marla took a cursory look around the outcrop on which she stood. It seemed the only way down to this quiet paradise was a ledge some five or six feet below, maybe even further. Crouching down to look for a handhold, Marla awkwardly swung her legs out from under her and pivoted around so she was now facing the surface of the boulder. Gingerly, she slid her legs downwards whilst hanging onto the rocky outcrop above. A slight slick of perspiration had begun to form on her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she let go of the handhold first with one hand then the other and trusted in gravity to do its thing. She slid alarmingly fast, her clothing dragging against the rock so that she felt the cool alien surface of the boulder against her belly and legs. Then, with a thankful gasp, she hit the ledge and steadied herself before turning around. The drop had cut off the last of the wind current and she felt a palpable sense of calm in the still air. Smiling to herself she continued climbing down to the cove, hopping over the last of the rocks with the ease of a mountain goat.

Kicking off her Birkenstocks, Marla sighed at the cool comfort of the white sand beneath her feet. She walked down to the sea and watched the waves for a while, mesmerized by the beautiful simplicity of white foam gently buffeting a driftwood branch. The waves undulated like a soothing breath and they whispered to her, the sound folding in on itself in the strange acoustics of the rock walled cove. Making her way to a sheltered spot from where she could still see the ocean, Marla lay back on the sand for a while and listened to the waves. The distant song of a seagull echoed around her, conspiring with the other sounds to lull her to sleep.

Just as her eyes were about to give in to the lullaby, Marla saw a shape in the distance. She squinted at it, thinking at first that it was a dog or some other animal making its way across the beach towards the cave at the other end. Sitting up and wiping the drowsiness from her eyes, Marla looked again and saw that the distant figure was a small child. Confused, she stood up and started walking towards it, her strides quickening as the child built up speed. She could now see clearly that it was a little boy of no more than ten years of age. A dark, tangled mop of hair jostled on top of his head as his little legs carried him over the sand toward the cave opening.

“Hey!” she cried out, but the child pressed on either ignoring her or just not hearing. “Hey, stop!”

The boy was now at the cave entrance, where he stopped suddenly. He threw Marla a glance over his shoulder and his deep-set eyes made contact with hers. There was a melancholy in those eyes that even from this distance chilled her to the marrow of her bones. His face was deathly pale, starkly contrasting the crow black bird’s nest of hair framing it. Her steps faltered and she was about to cry out to him again when all of a sudden he turned and ran into the darkness of the cave.

Marla chewed her bottom lip, pondering for an instant what to do next. Her feet decided, following the boy’s path into the cave and risking the darkness that lay within. As she rounded the curve created by the thick rock cave entrance the cool damp atmosphere hit her. Blinking away the daylight and willing her irises to widen so she could see in the darkness, Marla craned her head backwards and saw the ceiling of the cave arching over her like that of a prehistoric cathedral. Stepping inside, slowly now, she inched her way inside—her footfalls accompanied by the echoing drip-drip-drips of water on stone. Carefully avoiding a chunky cluster of coppery yellow stalagmites, she was headed for what looked like a turning at the back of the cave. Mites go up and tights come down, she told herself, remembering a seaside field trip from orphanage days long ago. A small child back then, she had looked on in wonder as her teacher described how the rock and mineral formations had formed over generations and would continue to do so long after their lifetimes. Marla found herself wondering why the little boy she had followed was on his own out here and felt a bleak chill pass over the surface of her skin. Her eyes now adjusting to the dark, she reached the wall at the rear of the cave and felt the source of the chill. A cool breeze emanated from a smaller passage that joined the main cave forming a sharp bend. She peered inside and whispered, “Hello? Hello? I just want to say hi, make sure you’re okay… Are you in there?”

The drip-drip-drips of the water grew louder, accentuated by the lack of any human response from the gloom of the passage. If the boy was here, he was quiet as a mouse and hiding in the dark. Marla’s skin prickled at the thought of walking into the passage alone but she also began to worry that the child had come to some harm in the cave. Newspaper headlines about pot-holers getting stuck underground in damp tombs like this one flashed by her mind’s eye like microfiche projections. She called out to the boy one last time and, hearing only the echo of her own strained voice, she backed out of the passageway and into the cave. The high ceiling was an instant comfort to her after the stifling claustrophobic black of the mysterious corridor. Turning toward the light, Marla made her way back to the beach and its soft carpet of sand. As she turned the corner out of the cave, she saw a figure silhouetted against the glare of the sunlit ocean waves. She squinted, her eyes struggling to make out the detail of the figure. The unexpected sight was accompanied by an unexpected droning sound, rather like that of a huge sluggish bee heavy with pollen in the last days of summer. Marla felt dizzy. A faint crosswind bent the sound waves in her ears and the refracting sunlight made the silhouetted figure shimmer before her eyes. She tripped through the deep sand, now more of an obstacle than a comfort, and moved toward the figure, squinting as she went. Beyond the figure was another shape, small and hard on the horizon of her vision. It was moving, and seemed to be the source of the droning sound.

Then the brightness was briefly diffused as a cloud enveloped the sun and Marla saw the figure turn to face her. It was Jessie. And far behind her in the distant ocean bobbing on the waves was a large pleasure yacht. Jessie glanced back at the boat, then to Marla.

“We need to talk,” she said dryly.