М Стедман - The Light Between Oceans - A Novel

The Captain ushered in the new guests, a dour couple comprising the plump Chairman of the Local Roads Board, Cyril Chipper, and his wife, Bertha, who was thin as a yard of pump water.

‘Well, what do you make of the roads here?’ launched Cyril as soon as they had been introduced. ‘No politeness, mind. Compared with over East, how would you rate them?’

‘Oh, leave the poor man alone, Cyril,’ said the wife. Tom was grateful not only for that intervention but also for the doorbell, which rang again.

‘Bill. Violet. Grand to see you,’ said the Captain as he opened the front door. ‘Ah, and you get lovelier by the day, young lady.’

He showed into the parlour a solid man with grey whiskers, and his wife, sturdy and flushed. ‘This is Bill Graysmark, his wife, Violet, and their daughter …’ He turned around. ‘Where’s she got to? Anyway, there’s a daughter here somewhere, she’ll be through soon, I expect. Bill’s the headmaster here in Partageuse.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Tom, shaking the man by the hand and nodding politely to the woman.

‘So,’ said Bill Graysmark, ‘you think you’re up to Janus, then?’

‘I’ll soon find out,’ Tom said.

‘Bleak out there, you know.’

‘So I hear.’

‘No roads on Janus, of course,’ threw in Cyril Chipper.

‘Er, well, no,’ Tom said.

‘Not sure I think much of a place with no roads at all,’ Chipper pursued, in a tone that implied there were moral implications.

‘No roads is the least of your problems, son,’ rejoined Graysmark.

‘Dad, lay off, will you?’ The missing daughter now entered as Tom had his back to the door. ‘The last thing the poor man needs is your tales of doom and gloom.’

‘Ah! Told you she’d turn up,’ said Captain Hasluck. ‘This is Isabel Graysmark. Isabel – meet Mr Sherbourne.’

Tom stood to greet her and their eyes met in recognition. He was about to make a reference to seagulls, but she silenced him with, ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Sherbourne.’

‘Tom, please,’ he said, speculating that perhaps she wasn’t supposed to spend afternoons throwing bread to birds, after all. And he wondered what other secrets lay behind her playful smile.

The evening proceeded well enough, with the Haslucks telling Tom about the history of the district and the building of the lighthouse, back in the time of the Captain’s father. ‘Very important for trade,’ the Harbourmaster assured him. ‘The Southern Ocean is treacherous enough on the surface, let alone having that under-sea ridge. Safe transport is the key to business, everyone knows that.’

‘Of course, the real basis of safe transport is good roads,’ Chipper began again, about to launch into another variation on his only topic of conversation. Tom tried to look attentive, but was distracted out of the corner of his eye by Isabel. Unseen by the others, thanks to the angle of her chair, she had begun to make mock-serious expressions at Cyril Chipper’s comments, keeping up a little pantomime that accompanied each remark.

The performance went on, with Tom struggling to keep a straight face, until finally a full laugh escaped, which he quickly converted into a coughing fit.

‘Are you all right, Tom?’ asked the Captain’s wife. ‘I’ll fetch you some water.’

Tom couldn’t look up, and, still coughing, said, ‘Thank you. I’ll come with you. Don’t know what set me off.’

As Tom stood up, Isabel kept a perfectly straight face and said, ‘Now, when he comes back, you’ll have to tell Tom all about how you make the roads out of jarrah, Mr Chipper.’ Turning to Tom, she said, ‘Don’t be long. Mr Chipper’s full of interesting stories,’ and she smiled innocently, her lips giving just a momentary tremble as Tom caught her eye.

When the gathering drew to a close, the guests wished Tom well for his stay on Janus. ‘You look like you’re made of the right stuff,’ said Hasluck, and Bill Graysmark nodded in agreement.

‘Thank you. It’s been a pleasure to meet you all,’ said Tom, shaking hands with the gentlemen, and nodding to the ladies. ‘And thank you for making sure I got such a thorough introduction to Western Australian road construction,’ he said quietly to Isabel. ‘Pity I won’t have a chance to repay you.’ And the little party dispersed into the wintry night.

CHAPTER 3

THE WINDWARD SPIRIT , the store boat for all the light stations along that part of the coast, was an old tub, but trusty as a cattle dog, Ralph Addicott said. Old Ralph had skippered the vessel for donkey’s years, and always boasted he had the best job in the world.

‘Ah, you’ll be Tom Sherbourne. Welcome to my pleasure launch!’ he said, gesturing to the bare wooden decks and the salt-blistered paint as Tom came aboard before dawn for his first journey out to Janus Rock.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Tom as he shook his hand. The engine was idling and the diesel fumes filled his lungs. It wasn’t much warmer in the cabin than in the biting air outside, but at least it blunted the snarl of the wind.

A mess of red corkscrew curls emerged through the hatch at the back of the cabin. ‘Reckon we’re ready, Ralph. She’s all fixed now,’ said the young man they belonged to.

‘Bluey, this is Tom Sherbourne,’ said Ralph.

‘Gedday,’ replied Bluey, hauling himself through the hatch.

‘Morning.’

‘Talk about brass-monkey weather! Hope you’ve packed your woollen underduds. If it’s like this here, it’ll be a bloody sight worse on Janus,’ said Bluey, breathing on his hands.

While Bluey showed Tom over the boat, the skipper ran through his final checks. He gave the brine-smeared glass in front of him a wipe with a scrap of old flag, then called, ‘Ropes at the ready now, lad. Prepare to cast off.’ He opened the throttle. ‘Come on, old girl, off we go,’ he muttered, to coax the boat out of its berth.

Tom studied the map on the chart table. Even magnified on this scale, Janus was barely a dot in the shoals far off the coast. He fixed his eyes on the expanse of sea ahead and breathed in the thick salt air, not looking back at the shore in case it made him change his mind.

As the hours passed, the water deepened below them, its colour taking on the quality of a solid. From time to time Ralph would point out something of interest – a sea eagle, or a school of dolphins playing at the bow of the boat. Once, they saw the funnel of a steamer, just skirting the horizon. Periodically, Bluey emerged from the galley to hand out tea in chipped enamel mugs. Ralph told Tom stories of evil storms and great dramas of the Lights on that part of the coast. Tom talked a little of life at Byron Bay and on Maatsuyker Island, thousands of miles to the east.

‘Well, if you’ve lived through Maatsuyker, there’s a chance you’ll survive Janus. Probably,’ Ralph said. He looked at his watch. ‘Why not grab forty winks while you can? We’ve got a way to go yet, boy.’

When Tom re-emerged from the bunk below, Bluey was speaking in a low voice to Ralph, who was shaking his head.

‘I just want to know if it’s true. No harm in asking him, is there?’ Bluey was saying.

‘Asking me what?’ said Tom.

‘If …’ Bluey looked at Ralph. Torn between his own eagerness and Ralph’s bulldog scowl, he blushed and fell silent.

‘Fair enough. None of my business,’ said Tom, and looked out at the water, which had now turned seal-grey, as the swell rose around them.

‘I was too young. Ma wouldn’t let me bump up me age to join up. And it’s just that I heard …’

Tom looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

‘Well they reckon you got the Military Cross and that,’ Bluey blurted. ‘Told me it said on your discharge papers – for the Janus posting.’