I screwed up my eyes; eventually I realised that it must be Louise, standing on the jetty and flashing the torch I had left on the table in the caravan.
I shouted to her, but the wind was too strong and carried my words away. The flashes were irregular, but I knew she wouldn’t do such a thing unless it was important.
It occurred to me that she didn’t have my phone number. I went down to the boat and rowed into the darkness, the same darkness in which I had been lying when the fire began to burn behind my eyes. Could it be happening again? Could the sea catch fire and force me to row in a certain direction in order to save myself?
I rested my oars and turned around.
The torch on the jetty had gone out.
Chapter 7
I moored the boat by the jetty; Louise wasn’t there. Nor had she switched on the light on the wall of the boathouse. If she had really wanted to make sure I saw her signal, she would have used the powerful exterior light rather than the feeble torch.
I was just about to call out to her when I saw a glow in the caravan window. I stopped dead. She obviously hadn’t noticed the light being switched on outside.
A large, heavy bird flapped away in the darkness. From time to time over the years I had caught a glimpse of an eagle owl following a trail that no one else knew.
I went up to the caravan but paused before I reached the door. The curtain wasn’t fully drawn across the oval window. I had never spied on my daughter before, but now I crept forward and cautiously peered inside.
Louise had stripped to the waist and was sitting at the table, shuffling the pack of cards. She wasn’t playing patience; she seemed to be completely lost in thought. I had never seen her semi-naked. I moved back silently so that she wouldn’t notice me if she suddenly glanced at the window.
I didn’t want to be caught out, but nor did I want to stop looking into her world. She must have turned up the heating; that was why she was only half-dressed.
I contemplated my daughter. After a few minutes I knocked on the door. She didn’t react. I knocked again.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me. I saw you signalling with the torch.’
‘The torch?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hang on.’
The caravan rocked as she got to her feet. She had pulled on a sweater by the time she opened the door. She let me in, frowning at me.
‘What are you talking about? What torch?’
I had just spotted the torch lying on the draining board. I pointed to it and said, ‘I was about to get inside the tent when I saw you standing on the jetty, flashing the torch in my direction. I tried to shout to you, but the wind was too strong and you couldn’t hear me. So I got in the boat and rowed over. Why didn’t you use the light outside the boathouse? You could have switched it on and off — it’s like a floodlight!’
Louise didn’t say anything for a moment; she looked searchingly at me, then nodded towards the stool. I sat down and unbuttoned my jacket. It was very warm inside the caravan. She remained standing by the door.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said eventually.
I reached over, picked up the torch, pointed it at her and switched it on and off several times.
‘This is what I saw; you were down on the jetty signalling to me over on the skerry. What did you want? I was worried.’
She didn’t answer. I realised that something wasn’t right, but I knew what I had seen.
‘I haven’t been down to the jetty with the torch.’
‘I’m not imagining things.’
‘You saw it flashing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it Morse code?’
‘I don’t know. It was very erratic, like an uneven pulse.’
She shook her head. I thought I could sense a vague anxiety within her; did she think I was going senile?
The idea frightened me. I can’t think of anything worse than being physically healthy, and someone, perhaps my daughter, explaining to me one day that my brain and my memory are deteriorating. Even all those years ago when I was training to be a doctor, my fellow medical students and I would sit and discuss the worst fate we could imagine. Most of us felt the same: dementia was far more terrifying than physical pain.
‘You have to believe me: I haven’t been down to the jetty. Why would I lie about such a thing?’ Louise said.
‘But if it wasn’t you, who was it?’
‘Are there strangers creeping around on the island?’
‘Not as far as I know. Perhaps the arsonist has come back?’
Once again she frowned. ‘The only person who’s come back is you.’
‘I haven’t been seeing things!’ I insisted.
‘In that case we’d better go outside and search for the intruder.’
Silence fell; needless to say, we didn’t go outside.
‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Coffee?’
‘No, thanks — it would keep me awake.’
‘How about a glass of rum?’
‘Why would I want a glass of rum? You know I don’t drink spirits.’
‘That’s not true — sometimes you knock it back like nobody’s business.’
‘That’s a completely different matter — I’m drinking then!’
‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘I ought to row back to my tent and go to bed.’
‘You’ll get lost, rowing in the dark.’
‘It’s not far.’
‘I want you to stay here. When darkness fell I was quite scared of being alone. I thought I could see people with charred black bodies moving around outside. You can take the bed and I’ll lie on the floor; if we gather together lots of clothes, blankets and cushions it will be soft enough. I’m going to have a glass of rum, then we’ll play cards for a little while before we go to bed. In spite of the fact that the house has burned down and someone seems to be wandering around signalling with a torch.’
‘I just don’t understand who it could have been.’
Louise didn’t reply. She dug a half-empty bottle of dark rum out of her bag and poured herself a glass. She knocked it back, pulled a face and poured herself another. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she emptied the glass exactly as her mother used to do. Harriet had never drunk much, but when she did she downed it as if it were something deeply unpleasant.
Louise put her glass down on the table.
‘What are you thinking about? The torch?’
‘I’m thinking that I see Harriet when I look at you.’
‘What do you see?’
‘You both knock back your drink in exactly the same way.’
‘Our tolerance is different though. She used to fall asleep after a couple of glasses; I either get melancholy or furious. I never know in advance what’s going to happen. But you needn’t worry; I’m not trying to get drunk tonight. It makes me shudder when I think about everything that’s gone, everything that can never be restored.’
‘I don’t think I’ve fully grasped what’s happened, but tomorrow we need to start talking about the future.’
Louise pushed away her glass and picked up the cards.
Card games have always bored me. We started to play poker. She won nearly all the time, whether she had a better hand than me or not. I couldn’t read her face; I had no idea when she was bluffing. Occasionally I thought she was letting me win out of sympathy. Every time my pile of matches was nearly gone, I won and had to carry on playing.
Neither of us said a word. Louise was totally focused on the game while I frequently made mistakes.
At eleven o’clock she decided we should take a break. She went outside for a pee, then came back in and made sandwiches. She had a cup of coffee; I drank water. Then we carried on playing. By midnight I still hadn’t managed to lose all my matches. I threw down my cards and said I’d had enough. Louise wasn’t happy, but she nodded. I went out to empty my bladder; I could hear her making preparations for the night. A faint crescent moon was just visible; the cloud cover had lifted. I waited until it was quiet inside the caravan, then I tapped on the door and went back in.