Featherlight, Peter Bunzl [best ebook reader for laptop .txt] 📗

“When will that be?”

“Tomorrow,” Dad says. “As soon as Mum’s had the baby. You’ll be fine to make your way home in the dark, won’t you, Deryn?”

I nod. “I have the light to guide me,” I tell Dad.

“Good,” he says. He sounds a bit unsure. “Keep the watch, and promise me you’ll do your school work and chores in the morning. I don’t want you spending the day running around the island chasing sea birds!”

“I promise,” I say.

“By the time you’re done with that, we should be back,” Mum adds. She takes Dad’s hand, and he helps her down into the boat.

I untie the moorings, while Dad mans the tiller and the bowline.

“Goodbye and good luck, Deryn, darling!” Mum calls out, her voice cracking with worry. “You be good!”

“You too!” I shout as the boat sails off. “See you soon!”

I watch the boat get smaller. Fear flaps inside me like a ragged sail in a storm. The tiny lantern on the boat’s prow floats like a firefly in the darkness as Dad steers between the rocks. The next time I see Mum she will have a baby in her arms. That’s if things go well.

From their worried looks, I’m not so sure they will.

3

MY SHOOTING STAR

When I get home, I climb the stairs to the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse, above the keeper’s office.

There always has to be someone watching the sea and the lantern in case of emergencies. For the rest of the hours of this strange night, that person has to be me. For the first time ever, I am by myself in the lighthouse, taking Dad’s place on the night watch. That scares me a little.

Up here, the walls are made from glass panels. That way the light beam from the oil lantern can pass through them in the dark.

The lantern itself is not that big, but it’s surrounded by lenses and a silver reflector and a metal stand and machinery that take up almost the whole room.

The machinery and stand help the lenses to rotate. The lenses have blackout sections that make the light flash every three seconds.

The flashing is important – it helps the ships far out at sea work out which lighthouse they are seeing, where they are on their map and how close they are to the rocks.

That way the sailors can keep themselves safe.

I check the oil reservoir beneath the lamp. It is getting low, so I pump the pump handle. The pipe gurgles as it sucks oil from the tank in the basement and spits it into the lamp’s reservoir. Now there should be enough oil to keep the flame burning until morning.

Next I turn the big wheel on the wall. This winds the clockwork that keeps the lenses of the lantern turning.

Dad normally does both these jobs, but they’re my duty tonight. It’s hard work as the pump handle and the wheel are both very stiff. I have to summon all my strength to get them moving.

Outside the tower, the light beam revolves and the stars twinkle in the dark. It feels like the loneliest spot in the whole world up here, and I feel like the loneliest girl in it. I wish I wasn’t on my own. At least Mum and Dad have each other.

I imagine them on the silent sea, looking up at the lighthouse and the same stars as I can see. I think of them heading for the mainland to have the baby. Filled with fear but sailing the ocean together. I picture the full moon and our light beam shining bright above Mum and Dad to light their way.

I try not to think of all the things that could go wrong for them. Instead, I list in my head the names of the star constellations that Dad has taught me: the scorpion, the wolf, the crow, the phoenix—

Just then, I see something …

A streak of orange glittering in the dark.

A shooting star.

Its tail burns bright behind it, like a fiery red comet.

The shooting star lands somewhere on the far side of the island.

I shut my eyes and the shooting star sparkles in my memory.

It is my shooting star.

Tomorrow, I will go and look for it, but right now, I need to go down to the keeper’s office and take Dad’s seat for the watch.

*

I know I’m not meant to, but at some point during the long night I fall asleep. The chair is so comfy and the fire so warming, and I am so tired that I just can’t keep my eyes open.

I dream that I climb the stairs again to the top of the tower. This time I step out onto the gallery, a metal walkway that runs around the outside of the lantern room. I breathe in the fresh sea air.

The full moon is tinted a fiery red and the sky is peppered with shooting stars. The light beam flashes past me. I look into Dad’s telescope, watching the stars falling, and my hair grows longer and longer. Soon it is cascading over the edge of the walkway and down the side of the tower, just like Rapunzel’s.

In my dream, my hair carries on growing until it reaches the bottom of the ocean, where a tiny baby swims in the dark.

The baby grabs hold of my hair and begins to climb up. My head hurts as it takes the baby’s weight. It is so heavy that every strand of hair feels as if it might be ripped away as the baby climbs.

The baby carries a small stone. It climbs all the way up the side of the lighthouse to the walkway. There, the