“It’s pronounced ben neer,” he corrected. “The Washerwoman at the Ford.”

“You’ve heard of her?”

“She’s a Scottish myth. A type of banshee. They say she appears beside streams or rocks, washing the clothes of a person who’s about to die.”

So that was why Hartley had been trying to get close enough to confirm whose clothes she had in his dream.

“Other keepers mention her in their logbooks as well,” Will went on. “But that one you have there is the most disturbing because … well, the day after Hartley had that dream, he found Porter dead at the foot of the lighthouse.”

“Do you think she’s real then?” I asked incredulously.

Will met my gaze. “I don’t know any more,” he 201said. “Do you?”

I thought of the humming I thought I’d heard out in the fog – so haunting and horrible.

“No,” I replied with a shiver. “I’m not sure about anything. But I’m going to find out.”

Will’s face fell. “But you said you’d call for a boat this morning to get your family off Bird Rock.”

“Not without Rosie,” I replied. “Look, why don’t we work together? We both want to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on here. You’re the only person on this island who even believes me, the only person I can trust.”

“But you can’t.”

I frowned, confused. “Can’t what?”

“You can’t trust me. You can’t trust anyone on Bird Rock, not even yourself.” He paused. “Especially yourself. Not when the lighthouse is awake. I know this is difficult, impossible, but if you really do finally believe that there’s something wrong with the lighthouse then won’t you even consider leaving with your family? Your sister might still be gone, but at least you’ll have saved the rest of them—”

“Not a chance,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving this island without Rosie. I mean it. If 202I have to chain myself to the lighthouse door, then that’s what I’ll do. I wasn’t asking your permission – and I’m doing this with or without your help.”

I took a step back towards the logbooks, but my heel brushed the edge of a lighthouse photo, and suddenly every light in the picture of the tower blazed brightly from the windows.

“What the—?”

I stared down at the photo. The lights in the one next to it all came on then, and all the others around it too, until we were surrounded by dozens of illuminated lighthouses.

203

Chapter Seventeen

“What the hell is going on with these photos?” I snatched one up from the floor.

“I told you they were cursed,” Will replied.

I stared down at the picture in my hand. There was no longer anyone standing in the window. When I looked at the ones on the floor, they were the same.