Outside the tower, the light beam revolves and the stars twinkle in the dark. It feels like the loneliest spot in the whole world up here, and I feel like the loneliest girl in it. I wish I wasn’t on my own. At least Mum and Dad have each other.

I imagine them on the silent sea, looking up at the lighthouse and the same stars as I can see. I think of them heading for the mainland to have the baby. Filled with fear but sailing the ocean together. I picture the full moon and our light beam shining bright above Mum and Dad to light their way.

I try not to think of all the things that could go wrong for them. Instead, I list in my head the names of the star constellations that Dad has taught me: the scorpion, the wolf, the crow, the phoenix—

Just then, I see something …

A streak of orange glittering in the dark.

A shooting star.

Its tail burns bright behind it, like a fiery red comet.

The shooting star lands somewhere on the far side of the island.

I shut my eyes and the shooting star sparkles in my memory.

It is my shooting star.

Tomorrow, I will go and look for it, but right now, I need to go down to the keeper’s office and take Dad’s seat for the watch.

*

I know I’m not meant to, but at some point during the long night I fall asleep. The chair is so comfy and the fire so warming, and I am so tired that I just can’t keep my eyes open.

I dream that I climb the stairs again to the top of the tower. This time I step out onto the gallery, a metal walkway that runs around the outside of the lantern room. I breathe in the fresh sea air.

The full moon is tinted a fiery red and the sky is peppered with shooting stars. The light beam flashes past me. I look into Dad’s telescope, watching the stars falling, and my hair grows longer and longer. Soon it is cascading over the edge of the walkway and down the side of the tower, just like Rapunzel’s.

In my dream, my hair carries on growing until it reaches the bottom of the ocean, where a tiny baby swims in the dark.

The baby grabs hold of my hair and begins to climb up. My head hurts as it takes the baby’s weight. It is so heavy that every strand of hair feels as if it might be ripped away as the baby climbs.

The baby carries a small stone. It climbs all the way up the side of the lighthouse to the walkway. There, the baby reaches out a fist and drops the stone into my hand.