Beyond the Sea Read Online Free Page B

was vaporised and the vapour went up to the burners above.’ Pol practically ran up the last flight of stairs into the lamp room, unable to repress the thrill of his remembrance, with Sam still at his heels. ‘And here, at the light itself, we’d light the paraffin vapour.’ And Pol would strike an imaginary match with his hands. ‘But what really gave the light its power were the lenses that revolved around it and magnified it into the beam.’ For a moment both Pol and Sam were silent, mouths open slightly as they marvelled at the sheer magnificence of it all.
    â€˜Anyway,’ Pol continued at last, finally focusing on the real lamp in front of him rather than the older imaginary one he still carried in his mind, ‘the oil lamp was eventually replaced with this electric one.’ Pol pursed his lips and Freya braced herself for the tirade against modernisation that usually followed. But when it finally came, Pol’s damning finale lacked both lustre and length. ‘Then automation came shortly after.’
    Fortunately, perhaps, Sam was as obsessed with the long-vanished days of lighthouse keeping as Pol. ‘Pol,’ he said, with that inimitably inquisitive look on his face that always made a small part of Freya’s insides melt, ‘did you have to sit up all night and tend the lamp? To check that it didn’t go out.’
    â€˜Aye, that I did. When I was stationed here as a principal keeper, there was me and two others. We kept watch in turns, but when I had the night watch – from twelve to four o’clock in the morning – I would always sit up here in the lamp room. I mean you had to keep your eye on the lamp throughout the night – check the paraffin pressure was keeping up and that the burners weren’t clogged. That sort of thing. But it wasn’t really necessary to sit up here the whole time. But I always did, see.’ And he turned to gaze at Sam, looked at him properly for the first time, scrutinised him intently to see if he understood the sacred piece of knowledge that was being shared with him. ‘I would sometimes write my log, in that quiet time. It was crucial, you see, Sam, for a lighthouse keeper to maintain his log, to keep it bang up to date. But more often than not I would simply watch the flash of the light.’ He paused, pensive. ‘A man can have strange thoughts, alone at night, sitting at the top of a tower, in the middle of the ocean, miles from family and friends. He can begin to imagine that he is the only man left in the world, stranded and alone, or that the world that he knows has vanished entirely and is gone from him for ever.’ Pol was nodding and Sam was watching him, mesmerised. ‘Yes, it can do odd things to a man’s head to be in a lighthouse alone at night, especially at night, looking out over the sea.’
    Once more Pol descended into deep thought; to change the subject, Freya spoke for the first time. ‘Perhaps Pol would let you go outside onto the gallery, Sam, and see how far you can see.’
    â€˜Aye,’ said Pol. And without looking at Sam, he moved silently to the gallery door, unlocked it and pushed it open.
    As the crashing sound of the sea came rushing in on the air, Freya felt the mood of existential melancholy that had been building disperse.
    â€˜Thanks Pol,’ yelled Sam, already on the gallery, looking up at the seagulls, which were squawking as they orbited the tower. ‘Come on, Mum, come and see with me.’
    Freya smiled at Pol as she moved towards the door to the gallery, but he didn’t return her smile, simply turning towards the light to carry out the checks that were required of him. Perhaps she had offended him. But then she always thought that she’d offended him by the end of his visit, one way or another. Sometimes she thought she offended him simply by being there.
    Outside on the gallery the air was fresh and they could see for