Eventually the island loomed directly above us, and I saw that Jim was right. The soaring cliffs only appeared white because of the thousands of birds perched on them. I’d never seen so many in one place before, and it was quite unnerving. The smell was even stronger up close, and I really thought I might gag. And there was the lighthouse. Impossible to miss, it balanced right on the edge of the clifftop, reaching straight and tall into the sky.

There was something odd about the way it stood so very still when surrounded by the constant motion of the ocean and the birds. My seasickness had eased a little now, but the contrast made me feel a bit queasy again and I found I wanted to look anywhere but at the lighthouse.

I’d hoped for some kind of pier, but no such luck. Jim just navigated the boat into a little inlet – the only one on the island apparently – and Rosie and I had to leap over the side into ankle-deep water. I could see now why Dad had ordered us to travel light and was glad I’d only brought a backpack.

“See you in two weeks,” Jim said, already guiding the boat back out, as if he couldn’t leave Bird Rock 35fast enough.

No one was waiting for us. Dad had said in his message that as he couldn’t know exactly what time we’d arrive we should just go straight to the lighthouse. So Rosie and I picked our way across the beach. We had to climb a steep hill littered with stones to reach the clifftop. I kept a close eye on Rosie, alert for any signs of fatigue, but she seemed perfectly fine now that we were off the boat.

The island was a barren, ugly place, and the stink from the birds was absolutely unbearable. All that muck attracted flies too; their irritating buzzing was noticeable even above the pounding of the sea against the cliffs. The birds themselves were everywhere and turned their heads to stare at us coldly as we walked by. They had extremely pale eyes, with just a single black dot of a pupil that almost looked as if it had been painted on. Their grey beaks were razor sharp.

We rounded a corner and all of a sudden the lighthouse rose before us, with the keeper’s cottage attached to one side. It was extremely tall – hundreds of metres at least – and just the thought of being in the room at the top set off my vertigo and made my knees feel shaky. 36

Up close, it was in a worse state than I’d realized. Dad’s email had said that the building had been recently restored, but the tired old paint was peeling from the exterior, and the windows were dark and dirty. Some of the wooden shutters on the upper levels were hanging from their hinges.