Page 7 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

Oh no, this wasn’t good. Anxious, I climbed out, looking up as the moon showed itself once more.

Did it have electricity and plumbing? God knows, but by the looks of it, I wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight. I walked up the path, aware of the loud crunch the stones and snow made under my feet. Shivering, I pushed the key into the lock and ended up shoulder-barging the door open. No sooner had I entered than my worst fear was confirmed. It wasn’t possible to stay here. It was filthy, dirty, and the furniture was awful. Nope. Not happening.

I backed out immediately and then wrestled the door shut. Ensuring it was locked, I returned to the car. A few miles back, I passed a twenty-hour chain hotel. I’d book a room there and inspect it thoroughly in the morning.

Despite the disappointing start, I was still excited. With a smile at the lighthouse, I drove away full of hopes and dreams.

Chapter Two.

William

Who the hell was that? I watched from the stairs as the stranger forced her way in, but she had a key. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Leafpoint reacted; recognising her, but I’d no idea how. I frowned as she gazed around, eyes passing over me before she let out a disappointed sigh and left.

“Who was that?” I demanded. Leafpoint offered me her version of a mental shrug. “Don’t play daft with me, lass.”

Leafpoint hummed in my mind and then withdrew.

Bother! Who is this woman, and why did I think trouble was coming? I had enough on my plate for now; I didn’t need some meddlesome wench interfering. Blast and damnation.

Lyra

The next morning, I shoved the door open again, and the chill wind blew me inside. The weather was freezing in Cornwall. Sure, it was February, but the sea breeze had a nasty bite to it. I guess I was lucky it wasn’t snowing. I turned on the torch I was carrying, which thankfully the chain hotel had sold. My light swept round, and this was obviously the kitchen. The cupboards appeared sturdy, but there were no appliances. Tucked under the curving stairs was a dining table for four. That was it, other than it was also filthy.

Using the torch, I climbed upstairs into the next section, which served as a living area. Above that was a library, then an office/study. The floor above that held a large bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Slowly climbing the staircase, I discovered two small bedrooms with a shower room, and the landing above matched them. The last level was full of boxes and barrels that I guessed contained items for the lantern.

The stairs stopped at a hatch above my head.

I shoved it open. Climbing the last few steps, I stared in wonder at the huge beacon in front of me.

This hadn’t been modernised. It remained the (by the looks of it) original lamp fixture. Spellbound, I reached out and touched the window. I could imagine the lighthouse keeper filling it with oil and striking the match to light it. Turning, I gazed around the glass room and spotted a door. Without thinking, I opened it and was blown backwards as the wind caught me.

My heart pounded.

Okay, that was a bad idea. Regardless of the railing, the widow’s walk might be better left until later!

I went back downstairs. Leafpoint had surprised me by having so many levels. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Despite being a functional, important building, it was also a home. There was furniture here, but it was old, broken, rusty, and absolutely beyond repair. I daren’t sit on the mouldy sofa that had been left; who knows what lived in it. With a smile on my face, I headed outside. I needed to order a skip and buy cleaning supplies. Before I exited, I flipped a switch and winced as the lights flickered, then came on. At least I had power.

I smiled. “That something. Poor Leafpoint, I’ll make you elegant and pretty again,” I promised, running a hand over the walls. I could have sworn a sound responded, but blamed my imagination.

My phone pinged, and I glanced down and gaped. The stipulated allowance had just landed in my bank, and I stared. Six thousand pounds may seem small, but that was a fortune to me. There was another ping, and the ten thousand from Sonia’s Trust was received this time. In shock, I headed over to my car and sat down, staring at my balance.

Any minute now it would disappear. It had to, but nope, it remained. The urge to run out and splurge on clothes, books, and pretty things was almost overwhelming. But then I also wanted to hoard it away in case it was snatched from me. A third notification made me glance down, and I saw the twenty-thousand furnishing budget had landed, and I shook my head. Thirty-six k sat in my bank.

In disbelief, I called the bank and confirmed the balance.

Okay, first things first: breakfast. I was hungry, and I needed to make a plan. I drove toward the town, a charming Cornish seaside community. It was small, but I bet it had a café. I parked in a car park and walked down the high street. The tiny marina made me smile with its boats rocking gently in the water, and there was a separate harbour.

On my way to finding breakfast, I stopped at a shop to buy a notepad and a pen. Spotting my goal, a café next to the marina, I grabbed a seat inside. Moments later, the waitress came over, and I ordered a coffee and a full English. I was able to treat myself.

I dragged the pad out and began writing.

Hotel–needed for at least a fortnight.

Cleaning equipment.

Contractor for a survey–to inspect that the lighthouse is structurally sound.

Electrician and Plumber. Check they’re up to code.