The Lighthouse

CHAPTER TWELVE. Romance

Ester sits on her stool at the bar with a gin and tonic. Her hand keeps straying to her hair, which now seems very short and white and makes her look, she has begun to think, like her father.

She is wearing old clothes and her flats because she can’t do the rooms in a nice frock and heels. But after her drink she will go upstairs, take a nap and then change, putting on the pink satin dress and her heels and a little perfume. She has resolved to make an effort every day now. She will do it today even though Bernard is not there to notice. It makes her feel good, and there is always someone who looks, who appreciates her effort.

Bernard is out of town for two nights. He has gone to his mother’s and he always goes alone.

Ester goes upstairs, slips off her shoes and lies down on her side of the bed. She picks up the book on her bedside table — a romance. She collects Mills and Boons, has hundreds of them. She finds her place and begins to read. Turning onto her side, facing Bernard’s half of the bed, moving closer to his pillow, she breathes deeply, inhaling the faint scent of him. Reaching behind her for the small bottle of camphor oil she has moved from the side of the bath to her bedside table, Ester puts a few drops on the corner of his pillowcase.

This is something she does when Bernard is away from home, keeping the smell of him in her bed. Some people do not like the smell of camphor; for others it is addictive. It is used, amongst other things, as a moth repellent and as an aphrodisiac.

She settles down again, lying with her face on the edge of his pillow, one arm stretched out across the empty bed.

She has tried to write a romance. She has several drafts of a novel in the drawer by her bed, but none of them, she thinks, is any good. She has never shown them to Bernard. Ester does not like her heroine, and her ending is not right. She takes these attempts out of the drawer from time to time and looks at them, changes something or starts a new draft. She did begin a different story but she did not even change the woman’s name — it was really just another abortive draft of the same story to put away in her drawer.

She wakes with her face buried in Bernard’s pillow, the corner of her Mills and Boon poking into her. She is famished.

She takes off her work clothes and sits down at her dressing table to redo her make-up before putting on her new dress. Then, stepping into her heels, Ester heads down to the bar.

She is expecting a guest — single room, one night, bed and breakfast — at the end of the afternoon. In the meantime, it is quiet. The new girl is behind the bar. Other than her and Ester, the place is empty except for an elderly couple sitting in the bay window reading guidebooks and leaflets. Ester, parking herself on her stool, asks the girl to fetch her a drink and a couple of bags of peanuts.

Bernard hired her almost a year ago but he still calls her ‘the new girl’, and Ester does too. The girl is about twenty, slim, long-limbed. She has her hair in a ponytail and wears no make-up. She has lovely skin. Ester watches her, mesmerised by her youth. She wonders if Bernard has ever looked at the girl this way. She has never seen him do so. Ester straightens her back and crosses her legs. She feels heavy. Her make-up feels thick on her skin. She feels overdressed. Looking down at her magnificent shoes, she sees the veins bulging in her feet, the broken capillaries in her calves.

The elderly couple finish their drinks, gather their things and leave. Ester watches them walking past the window holding hands and laughing about something. She drinks her gin and the hands of the huge clock on the wall move silently round.

The guest arrives at five. When he opens the door, the late afternoon sunshine streams in with him. He has come a long way with a heavy rucksack but he is fit and strong. He is young, younger than Ester but not as young as the new girl. As he approaches the bar he takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and offers it to the girl. ‘I have a room booked,’ he says. He speaks in English and the girl does not understand but she smiles at him.

‘It’s me you want,’ says Ester.

He looks at her doubtfully and then back at the girl, who smiles again and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Ester climbs carefully down from her stool and walks over to her guest, her shocking-pink heels banging loudly against the bare floorboards in the quiet room. She stands close to him, and leans closer to read the paper which he still holds out to the girl. She can feel the warmth in his skin, and the hairs on his arm against her own. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Come and sit down. Have your meal and then I will show you to your room.’

She takes the boy to a table for two and sits him down, then she goes to the kitchen to fetch his plate of cold meats from the fridge. Returning to the bar, she removes the cling film, slides the plate onto the table in front of the boy and sits down opposite him. ‘Go ahead and eat,’ she says. When he hesitates, she reaches over, takes a piece of sausage from his plate and holds it up to his mouth, saying, ‘Try some of this.’ When he does not open his mouth for her, she brings her hand back and puts the morsel in her own mouth. ‘It’s very good,’ she says.

She has the girl bring drinks. When the girl puts them down on the table, Ester sees her glancing at the boy and catches a flicker of a smile before she goes back to the bar. Ester leans forward and picks a strip of ham off the boy’s plate. ‘Oh, the ham is good,’ she says, not offering it this time but putting it directly into the boy’s mouth, poking it between his lips. She feels his teeth against her fingertip.

The boy eats then, quickly and silently, before pushing back his chair, his meal only half-finished, saying, ‘I’d like to go to my room now.’

‘Yes,’ says Ester, sucking a greasy fingertip. ‘Come with me.’ She walks to her desk, puts a tick in her ledger and takes his key down from its hook. ‘You’re in number ten,’ she says, and then adds, ‘right next to my room.’ She takes the rucksack from between his feet and carries it to the lift. While he insists that there is really no need, she stands inside the lift with his bag, waiting until he joins her. When he does, she presses the button and the doors close.

Now it is just the two of them in the quietly rising lift. ‘If there’s anything you need,’ she says, ‘just let me know.’

She carries his rucksack down the corridor to the end room and waits while he fumbles the key into the lock and opens the door. She takes his rucksack inside and puts it down on the bed. Knocking on the wall just above his headboard, she says, ‘If you need anything at all.’

‘I won’t bother you,’ he says. He has not yet come into the room. He is standing by the door, holding it open.

‘You wouldn’t be bothering anyone,’ she says. ‘My husband’s away.’

He nods, and when still she remains with one hand on his rucksack, he says, ‘Oh, right,’ and puts his hand in his trouser pocket. Finding a note of the lowest denomination, he holds it out.

She moves away from the bed then and comes towards him. Passing him in the doorway, she says, ‘Goodnight,’ and leaves him with the money still in his hand.

Back downstairs, she eats the boy’s leftovers for her supper. She usually goes to bed before the bar closes. If there are no customers and Bernard is away she sometimes tells the new girl to call it a night and get off home. The place is empty tonight, but when the girl suggests closing early, Ester says no, they should stay open, someone might still come in. She stays perched on her bar stool, watching the girl, who has nothing to do. Not until the big clock says it is closing time does Ester say, ‘All right then. Go home.’ The girl lifts the stools up onto the tables and fetches her coat and bag, and Ester, on her way to bed now, says to the girl, ‘Lock the door on your way out.’

Ester has a quick bubble bath before getting into bed. She drops off quickly before being woken by a gentle tapping sound which builds to frenetic hammering against the partition wall.