So I walked over to the spiral staircase, slipped Will’s badge in my pocket, put my foot on the first step and climbed up towards the trapdoor in the ceiling. The metal stairs beyond were cold beneath my bare feet and, like everything else in this place, coated in a layer of sticky salt. It felt weird climbing up into pitch-black, and I stupidly found myself thinking about pale hands reaching out for me in the dark. I really had to stop paying attention to talk of ghosts and ghouls. I reminded myself firmly that I didn’t believe in any of that stuff. But that did not mean the thought of it wasn’t freaky…

It felt cooler and mustier as I climbed, and soon 93I reached a small landing with a room leading off it. I paused, wondering whether I should investigate, but if Will was there surely he’d have a light on? I continued to climb, up and up. Before long, I’d gone so far that I was almost glad there was no light, as looking down would have been enough to make me break out in a cold sweat. I might not have believed in ghosts, but I was afraid of heights. The spiral staircase was so narrow and twisty that it made me feel a bit dizzy. Finally I reached a new level. The door leading off from the landing was closed, but a faint strip of light shone from beneath the gap. There was someone in there.

I stepped on to the wooden boards of the landing, wincing slightly as they gave a loud creak. They were filthy too – I could feel a thick coating of dust beneath my feet. The air up here smelled of saline, corrosion and rusted metal. I straightened my shoulders, marched over to the door and pushed it open. It swung inwards to reveal a small, circular room full of filing cabinets. The square objects looked odd against the curved walls, and I felt a faint prickling ache behind my eyes, as if I was looking at an optical illusion. 94

On the walls were dozens of photos of the lighthouse. They weren’t new pictures but old black-and-white shots, some in frames. They made the room seem like a shrine. There were pieces of paper and leather-bound books scattered all over the floor. And sitting behind an old wooden desk, a large book open before him, was Will.

He was still wearing the same outfit from the day before, which made me very aware of the fact that I was in my pyjamas. They definitely weren’t the clothes I’d have chosen if I’d known I was going to be confronting an intruder.

“Don’t scream,” Will said.

He didn’t look at all guilty or startled to be caught out like this. In fact, he was glaring at me, as if I was the one who wasn’t supposed to be there.