“Yes, although it wasn’t just a hunch. Something similar happened to one of the other keepers. I read about it in his logbook. He described hearing footsteps while sleeping in the Strangers’ Room one night, and for some reason that he couldn’t explain even to himself he knew he shouldn’t look. So he pretended to be asleep. He described how the figure came right up close to him, and that there was a smell, a bad one, but when he kept his eyes closed the person eventually went away. The keeper requested a transfer the next day, but he was convinced that not opening his eyes had saved his life. Every logbook I’ve read suggests that all the keepers knew there was something wrong with the lighthouse and the Strangers’ Room especially.”

“And that’s it?” I asked, feeling a dark sense of hopelessness wash over me. “That’s all you know?”

“For now,” Will replied. “It’s hard to find out much on the mainland. The Northern Lighthouse Board don’t really like to talk about Bird Rock. It’s a stain 223on their record, I suppose. Whatever information remains is here on the island – in the logbooks themselves and any other documents that are still being stored here.”

“And the writing on the walls,” I added.

I glanced at my watch. “My family will probably be back soon. Perhaps you could come tonight, after they’re all in bed? Then we can carry on going through the logbooks. I’ll make sure the kitchen door is left open.”

Before Will could reply, we heard a yell from outside – a piercing scream of fear that sliced through the air around us. In a flash, Will and I were both scrambling out of the stone bothy. The shout came a second time, and then a third, cutting through the ever-present shrieking of the gannets. We only had to run a short way along the cliff path to see what all the commotion was.

Will’s dad stood in the middle of a storm of birds. They all seemed possessed, diving at him with the same terrifying speed I’d witnessed out on the water. I never would have believed that birds could move so fast. They were swarming in such a thick cloud that it was impossible to keep my eyes on Will’s dad for 224more than a moment or two, but I heard him cry out again, and then an arc of blood curled through the air, spattering over white feathers.

Will and I both ran towards them, shouting. We were quickly surrounded by birds as we reached Will’s dad. To my dismay, I saw that he was bleeding from gashes on his arms and face. The next moment, a gannet torpedoed towards us and ripped a chunk of hair from his head.