By the time I am done it is late in the afternoon. Mum and Dad still aren’t back from the mainland with my baby brother or sister. I realise then with a shiver that I will be spending another night on the island alone.

Chapter 7

7

LIGHTING THE LANTERN

It is almost evening when I fill Dad’s flask with warm milky tea. I cut off another big hunk of bread from the loaf for dinner and put it in my pocket. After that, I take a hot water bottle, an oil lamp, matches and a blanket up to the keeper’s office in preparation for the night watch.

In the office, I lay out my provisions on the desk. Then I climb the stairs to the lantern room, where I open the glass door of the lantern and light the lamp wick so the flame will already be burning when it gets dark.

I close the glass door and pump the pump handle beneath the lantern to fill the oil reservoir, just like I did last night. Once that’s done I turn the big wheel on the far wall to wind the clockwork. When I’ve finished, the machinery beneath the lantern begins to tick and the lenses on their frame start to spin in front of the light.

Soon, when it’s dark, the turning beam of light will reach far out to sea once more, warning ships away from the rocks. Not that they will need it tonight, for the sea is once again calm and clear.

I step onto the metal walkway outside the lantern room and stare at the distant mainland. I wonder how Mum and Dad are doing over there. I hope they’re all right. I hope Mum’s had the baby.

THUD!

Something smacks against the glass beside me.

The noise is so loud it makes me jump. And again …

THUD!

I turn to see a bird about the size of a sparrow battering against the window.

Birds do that sometimes – hit the glass of the lantern room.

But this is unlike any bird I’ve seen before. Its chest is scarlet, like a robin’s, and its wings are dirty red. It has a bright orange crest on top of its head that looks like the flames of a fire.

To tell the truth, this bird doesn’t look well. A bit mangy. And it’s small – it must have only recently been a chick. Perhaps it has only just learned to fly? If so, it isn’t very good at it.

THUD!

The bird throws itself against the glass for a third time. It seems to be attracted to the light. Finally, it gives up and drops to the floor of the walkway, tired.

I crouch beside it. The bird shifts and tries to flap away from me. Then it opens its mouth to give a desperate cry.