Ivy huffed. ‘It’sfour minutespast seven.’ She glanced at Trip. ‘And you’re going to freeze to death up there on the cliffs.’
Trip was wearing a navy Aran jumper but no coat. ‘Then I’ll die doing what I love,’ he declared. ‘Seeing local landmarks. Finally.’
‘Ivy’s right,’ said Brooke, digging in her rucksack and pulling out an expensive-looking black fleece. ‘You’ll be cold. Put this on.’ She turned to Ivy. ‘Right, shall we get this over with?’
‘It’s a scenic walk, not the dentist,’ muttered Ivy, pulling her backpack on. ‘Okay. To the haunted lighthouse.’
They headed out of town, walking along the quay where Old Bill, busying himself by his boat as usual, wearing his sailor’s cap and with his pipe clenched between his teeth, gave them a wave.
‘Off to see the lighthouse, are you?’ he called. ‘Brave of you. You’ve heard the stories, I’ll bet?’
‘Yeah,’ said Brooke, pausing. ‘Something about a lighthouse keeper?’
‘Ah, well since you asked,’ said Old Bill with relish, setting down the rope he’d been winding and leaning against the boat. ‘It’s a sorry tale. Poor Jim Potterill. Lighthouse keeper in 1912. Fell asleep one night when he should have been manning the lighthouse.’ Old Bill lowered his voice impressively. ‘And that same night, the moon was hidden by clouds and a boat was wrecked. The crew perished. Unable to bear the guilt, Jim threw himself from the lighthouse down on to the rocks below to join them in their fate.’
‘Yikes,’ murmured Brooke. ‘I did not find anything online aboutthis.’
‘And then ever since, when the moon slips behind the clouds,’ intoned Old Bill, ‘you can see it. A light lit where no light should be, and a ghostly figure walking back and forth, atoning for his carelessness all those years ago.’ There was a pause. ‘Aye. Well, take care. Don’t want to scare yerselves silly up there on the cliffs and join poor Jim.’ Ivy caught the faint wink he gave her.
‘We’ll be careful,’ said Trip. ‘Ivy’s going to show us the way.’ He frowned. ‘Bill, you said you were going to cut out the pipe.’
‘I’ve cut right back,’ said Old Bill defensively. ‘And aye, no one knows the way to the lighthouse better than Ivy – she’s been walking these paths since she was a nipper. Plenty of otherstories I could tell you about this place. Why there’s even a hidden island …’
‘See you later,’ said Ivy, dragging them on towards the Mariner’s Arms. She knew that once Old Bill got started on Fox Bay lore, they would never manage to stop him. ‘Take anything he says with a seriously large pinch of salt,’ she murmured. ‘All those stories and tall tales are just that. Who knows if this Jim chap ever existed? Old Bill doesn’t even go out on his boat much any more. He just likes playing the part of a wise sea dog.’
‘Why not?’ said Trip easily. ‘If it makes him happy.’
Ivy thought about that one. She couldn’t think of a single reason, suddenly, why Old Billshouldn’tpotter in his boat at dawn, winding rope, pipe clamped in his teeth, terrifying local tourists with his tales of regretful ghosts and souls lost at sea. Not if it made him happy.
‘Morning,’ called Simi, yawning on the front step of the pub. ‘You’re up early.’
‘Is this your pub?’ Brooke asked, raking her gaze over the Mariner’s Arms. ‘Didn’t you say it was a smuggler’s hideout, Ivy?’
‘That’s right,’ said Simi. ‘A famous smuggling ring used to hole up here. There’s a basement full of old rum casks. The owner planned to get rich by turning the ringleader over to the magistrate but the smugglers got to him first.’ She drew her finger across her throat. ‘Nasty stuff.’
‘Hmm.’ Brooke squinted up at the topmost windows. ‘Do you have rooms up there too? How many?’
‘Just the two,’ said Simi. ‘But I’m thinking of expanding and using the outbuildings now there’s so many tourists. I just have to hook up the Wi-Fi and re-do the bathroom. Why, do you need a break from Wildest Dreams? Josie’s plumbing getting to you?’ She winked. ‘I’ll do you a deal.’
‘Not just now, thanks,’ said Brooke crisply. ‘So, you’d be able to sleep, what – ten here?’
‘I guess,’ said Simi. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ said Brooke, turning to go. ‘Well, see you later.’
She hurried on, and Trip followed. Ivy caught Simi’s eye and shrugged. ‘Weird,’ Simi mouthed.
Brookewasweird, Ivy thought. She was approaching their sightseeing as though she were organising a business plan, ticking things off a list. And what was with all the questions? She was the polar opposite of her open, easy-going brother.
At last they reached the start of the cliff path and began the slow climb up, the dark giving way to grey-blue, with streaks of rose and gold that bled across the sky. The sea was a dull mirror at first, then shimmered as the first threads of sunlight touched it.
Old Bill was right. Ivy realised she knew these paths like the back of her hand, her feet unerringly finding the right turnings that were off the main path. She had been coming here all her life. Her mum used to pack her and baby Liv in the car with flasks of tea and sandwiches, drive to the foot of the cliffs and force them on a walk.
Over the years, Ivy had been less and less willing to come.She’d wanted only to be curled up with her pad and pencils, drawing everything she could see in her mind’s eye, making the images in her head come to life. The last time her mum had dragged her up here, the spring before she left for art school, Ivy had grumbled every step of the wet, drizzly way.This is so boring, she had moaned.Can’t we ever do something different?
Now, though, the walkdidfeel different. The salt air, the familiar crunch of the path beneath her boots, the springy grass, the sudden stillness that wrapped around them like a blanket the higher up they got – Ivy knew it from childhood but it also felt like she was experiencing it for the first time. Maybe because she’d had some distance, she thought. Or maybe because she was showing it to strangers.
Their breath clouded in the cold. The sky lightened still more, the crimson sun rising. And then they rounded a corner and, suddenly, they saw it: the lighthouse, standing ahead like a pale ghost from one of Old Bill’s stories against the brightening sky. And beneath it, the vast expanse of sea. They stopped, looking up, craning their necks.
