Page 58 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
‘Is this where the lighthouse keepers stayed?’ she asked.
‘Mostly on the floor above, I think. But the majority of the furniture’s gone, now.’
‘And where are we going?’
‘To the top, of course. Do you want to go ahead of me?’
Thea tipped her head back and looked up. She could just about make out the huge bulb. ‘I think you should go first.’
‘OK, but keep close behind me. The handrail’s still pretty solid, but if you feel unsteady, grab on to me.’
Thea nodded, and when Ben started climbing, she followed closely behind. Scooter had gone on ahead, as if he knew the place well and the steepness of the stairs didn’t bother him. They stopped at the first floor, and Ben pointed out the meagre living quarters in the circular room. There was a curved counter up against the wall, and a small sink, but she couldn’t imagine the plumbing still worked. The floor was bare, dusty boards, the only real sign of human life a noticeboard pinned to the wall, a couple of torn scraps of paper still secured to it.
‘God.’ She swallowed. ‘How long has it been since the lighthouse was active?’ She peered at the bits of paper, but they were too faded to make out what might once have been on them.
‘About forty years – that’s what Finn told me.’ Ben waited until she’d seen all she wanted to, then started moving again. She followed him up, past another equally barren floor, and then to the very top, where the huge bulb took up most of the space.
The glass around them was floor to ceiling, only a narrow circular walkway around the central light, and Thea was consumed by the sensation of being so high up, with nothing surrounding her but the dizzying views. There must have been a gap between a pane and its leading, because there was a shrill whine of wind cutting through the space.
‘Wow.’ She stared out at the writhing, choppy sea, the streaks of cloud racing across the sky. ‘Imagine if someone turned this into a house, and got rid of the bulb. Imagine having these views all the time!’
‘You’d have an isolated lifestyle though,’ Ben said, putting his rucksack on the floor. ‘It’s not easy to get to, and you’d be cut off half the time: no way to get out if there was an emergency. I couldn’t have been a lighthouse keeper.’
Thea thought she saw him shudder, then he was opening his bag and taking out a red and blue tartan blanket, laying it on the floor. It was too wide for the space, bunching up against the glass on one side, and the bulb on the other.
‘What’s this?’ she asked. ‘Lighthouse picnic?’
‘I thought we could. If you’re happy to stay up here?’
‘It’s an incredible place,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t feel entirely safe, with these huge windows, but I think … I don’t mind that.’ She didn’t want to admit that the reason she could deal with her fear was because she was with him.
‘The glass is secure,’ Ben said. ‘It has to be, considering how exposed to the elements it is. It’s not as precarious asit looks.’ He got out several Tupperware boxes, which Scooter sniffed at approvingly, and some paper plates, paper napkins and two plastic glasses. Then he produced a bottle of sparkling wine, and a bottle of ginger beer.
‘You didn’t have to do this.’ Thea sat down as he flourished an arm at the blanket. She opened one of the boxes, a tantalising, savoury smell wafting out as she saw two Scotch eggs nestled inside. ‘But I’m very glad you did. You didn’t makethese, did you?’
‘I did.’ Ben sat next to her, opened another box, put a few cold sausages and slices of beef on a plate, and put it to the side of the rug. Scooter didn’t wait, and while he ate, Ben poured water into his metal bowl. ‘I also made the potato salad, and the sandwiches. The brownies though,’ he pointed at another box, ‘they’re not mine. I’m not great at baking.’
‘I might forgive you,’ Thea said, as he filled her plate with the home-made food. ‘Seeing as you made the rest of it.’
‘Very considerate of you.’ He poured her a cup of sparkling wine, and himself a ginger beer, and they clinked their plastic glasses together.
‘To abandoned lighthouses and slightly spooky picnics,’ Thea said, then took a sip. ‘This is really lovely.’
‘It’s from the Camel Valley.’
‘You don’t expect me to drink it all by myself, do you?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m driving, but we can put the stopper in. Anyway, I just … I thought you should have the whole experience.’
Thea laughed. ‘Do you and Finn have a luxury picnic when you come here, then?’
Ben grinned. ‘No. The one other time I’ve been, he sketched the view, because it’s quite a unique perspective, especially if you look back towards the shore.’
She nodded, seeing how right he was. The pathway leading to land reminded her of the yellow brick road, even though it was concrete, and she could see the blue of Ben’s van gleaming in the sunlight, surrounded by the verdant green of the trees that were thick along the shoreline. The pebble beach looked almost magical, with every stone seemingly a different colour, the sea bursting against them in frothy peaks. She felt impossibly removed from the scene, even though they’d walked through it only half an hour before.
‘It looks strange,’ she said. ‘Almost like we’re watching it on TV.’
‘You don’t often get to see it like this, unless you’re on a boat.’
