The Christmas Lights Read online

  For Cousin Alice and all you did for Mally.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Does the sun promise to shine?

  No, but it will,

  even behind the darkest clouds it will.

  And no promise

  will make it shine longer or brighter,

  for that is its fate,

  to burn until it can burn no more.

  So, to love you is not my promise,

  it is my fate,

  to burn for you until I can burn no more.

  Atticus (@atticuspoetry)

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  Prologue

  Lodal, Norway, 13 September 1936, 06.35

  The horse stumbled over the rough ground, the air still thick with smoke as they breathlessly picked their way over the muddied rocks, their eyes continually drawn up to the desperate scene of devastation laid out before them.

  Nothing was left. Every building had gone, even the grass had been ripped from the ground, trees lying on their sides, their exposed roots like claws. Furniture was smashed into kindling, a dead cow pinned under a boulder, its straight legs already stiffening as the sun climbed higher into the sky. A boat was improbably lodged in the branches of a distant tree, its prow tipping down. And the bodies – so many of them – lying inert and broken, still in their nightclothes.

  A few survivors were staggering over the timber shards that had once been homes, their howls shattering the dawn silence as they tried to lift and clear the entire smashed village, searching for their children, their parents, their husbands and wives. Signy felt her heart breach her chest, knowing her own family was in there too, knowing they would have been in the front line, that they couldn’t have survived – and yet her eyes scanning the detritus anyway, trying to find a marker that would indicate where their home had stood, showing her where they should start.

  She heard a groan behind her and she turned. Margit was pushing, yanking, pulling the body off the saddle. The others tried to help but with a cry of rage that kept them back, she yanked it free. They watched as it slumped to the ground, broken and bloodied like everyone else. Margit stared at it for a moment, her chest heaving from the effort and emotion, before she picked up the horse’s reins again and led them onwards into the destroyed village, not once looking back.

  Chapter One

  Upolu Island, Samoa, 4 December 2018

  The sun was still a whisper in the sky, the heavy ocean at their backs rising and falling by degrees like a slumbering beast. The menacing swell that had both terrified and excited her last night as she watched the midnight storm, barefoot from her veranda, had subdued into sonorous rhythm again, becoming something more predictable, if still not tame.

  The waves were no longer smashing against the rocks with furious violence but occasional splashes sprayed her legs and goosebumps bobbled over her bare skin as the ocean breeze came in regular breaths. With a shiver, she tied her long hair back in a ponytail and adjusted the strap on the mask. Sitting on the rock beside her, Zac was making the final checks on the camera, his muscles looking sculpted as if from marble in the weak grey, pre-dawn light. She could see his nervous excitement in the way he moved – sharp, alert, fine-tuned. He had slept well, as ever, undisturbed by the symphony of lightning flashes that had streaked and split the night sky, making it so hard for her to sleep.

  A yawn escaped her. Now, though . . . what would she give to be back in their bed, the ceiling fan whirring above the teak four-poster, the mosquito nets a romantic cocoon that not so much kept the insects out, but the two of them in. The heaviness of sleep was still in her limbs, reluctant to be cast off, and she thought, right now, she would give all her worldly possessions – the whole rucksack of them – to swap this rockpool at her feet for another few hours in her cotton sheets.

  That first step into its brisk embrace would be so hard, even though she knew the routine so well – a gasp, the clench of her muscles as the chill assailed her sleepy senses and then the release, the endorphin rush, and she would feel not only more awake than she did right now, but more alive. And that was the point, after all. It was always the point.

  ‘Ready?’ Zac asked, looking across at her, his mask and snorkel pushed back on his head, fins on, the waterproof camera poised on the selfie stick.

  Bo smiled with more vim than she felt and nodded. ‘Let’s do this.’ It was their catchphrase, the last thing they ever said to each other before they invariably held their breath and jumped, or leapt or ran or fell . . .

  Gingerly, she rose to standing and adjusted the bottoms of her bikini – the red one; it always photographed better underwater – staring down into the sea. Only a light froth of smashed wave-tops laced the surface and she took several deep breaths, counting as she watched the waves ride in, finding the rhythm. She needed to jump at exactly the right point – too early and she would be hurled against the cliffs, too late and the ebb-water would be too shallow, dropping her onto the submerged rocks beneath.

  With a deep breath, she leapt, arms outstretched, able to hear the click of the camera right up until the moment she hit the water and her own splash filled her ears, bubbles fizzing past her as she sank, her muscles gripped in sudden tension. And then she was rising again, the breath in her lungs a buoyancy aid that brought her bobbing to the surface, and as her face hit air again, she felt it – that moment of pure elation. Utter freedom. Total joy. Being alive.

  Zac’s splash came only a few moments after she surfaced – he wasn’t one for hesitation – and together they kicked their fins with firm strokes, for there was (as they had been warned) a strong undertow, as they put on their masks.

  ‘Readywhenyouare,’ Zac said in an unintelligible babble, his snorkel already in. She nodded back, giving him the ‘OK’ hand signal they used on their scuba expeditions, and after several deep breaths she duck-dived down.

  In an instant, the smash of breaking waves was replaced by a resonant wallow. It wasn’t the sound of silence for there was too much activity and energy down there to allow that, but as she kicked and began to pass below the mighty cliffs, she felt the vulnerability and inconsequentiality of her life in this spectral watery dimension: one inhale and it would all be over; she was but forty seconds from death down here. That random group of air molecules that she had gulped in the moment before she dived was now solely responsible for preserving her life and, within it, all the memories and experiences of the life she had lived: the sound of her mother’s laugh as she had run to her at the school gate; the heat of her father’s huge hand enveloping hers on a frosty walk; the light in her brother’s eyes as he’d cheated at cards and got away with it; the growing chill in his hands . . .

  But the water slipped over her silkily and even with the undertow trying to pull her back out to the ocean, she was a strong swim
mer and knew that any moment now the seal of water above her head would become a ceiling through which she could peer. They had researched this, they knew what to expect and what to do. They were adventurous but not reckless, that was what Zac always said. Sure enough, the domed underwater tunnel became suddenly angular, the water above her lidded and flat. With a hand raised cautiously above her head, she pushed through it and surfaced, blowing hard to clear the snorkel and taking several grateful breaths.

  Zac was just behind her, the red light still flashing on the camera.

  ‘Nice,’ he said with an easy smile, looking around the long tunnel they now found themselves in. It was perhaps fifteen metres long, with roughly a thirty-centimetre drop from the rock ceiling to the water’s surface. With their heads angled, they could breathe easily.

  Bo kicked onto her back and floated, allowing the movement of the ocean to bob her about, using her arms and legs to push away from the sides.

  ‘Hello,’ Zac said, smiling as his echo reverberated up and down through the space like a pinball. . . . ello . . . llo . . . lo . . . o . . .

  ‘I love you,’ Bo called. Love you . . . ve you . . . you . . .

  ‘Love you more!’ Zac called back. . . . ove you more . . . you more . . . more . . .

  ‘Yeah, you do,’ she agreed with a grin, giving a sudden shriek as he swam over and tickled her underwater. She laughed, spinning and twisting on the spot.

  ‘Always have. Always will.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ she grinned.

  ‘You’re supposed to say it back.’

  ‘Am I?’ she asked disingenuously, collapsing into laughter as he tickled her again, the sound of her laughter reverberating around them in amplification. ‘Ah well. I wouldn’t want you assuming anything.’ She wrinkled her freckled, snub nose. ‘Better to keep you on your toes.’

  Zac watched her before he suddenly reached up, placing the flats of his palms on the ceiling, like he was Atlas lifting the world, his biceps flexed and gleaming as he used his fins to hold himself higher in the water. ‘Marry me!’ he called.

  . . . arry me . . . rry me . . . me . . .

  Bo’s mouth dropped open. ‘What?’ she gasped. It was too quiet a sound to register an echo.

  Zac grinned at her, his hands still above his head. ‘I said . . . MARRY ME, BO LOXLEY!’

  . . . arry me, Bo Loxley . . . me, Bo Loxley . . . Bo Loxley . . . Loxley . . . ley . . .

  Bo gasped again, and then laughed, and then gasped again. Was he serious? Or just lost to the moment? Her legs were kicking furiously as she tried to tread water and comprehend what was happening. ‘You want to marry me?’ Still no echo, her voice was without shadow, making barely an impression in this watery channel.

  ‘Of course I do,’ he said, his eyes intense behind his mask, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. ‘You’re my soulmate. You and me, we were born to walk this earth together, baby. You’re my family.’

  ‘Oh, Zac.’

  His eyes lit up, a half-cocked grin on his lips. ‘. . . So is that a yes?’

  ‘Hell, yes it’s a yes!’ she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. ‘YES!’

  . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . es . . . es . . . sss . . .

  ‘Woooooohooooo!’ he hollered, letting go of the ceiling at last and falling back into the water with a messy splash before swimming over to her again and grabbing her around the waist. He tried to kiss her but both their masks were too deep and even with their heads tilted at extreme angles, it was all they could do to just about make very chaste lip contact. ‘Let’s get out of here. I need somewhere I can kiss you properly.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, looking around them eagerly. At both ends of the tunnel, white light shone dimly, there was nothing to pick between either of them. ‘Which way?’

  ‘Uh . . .’ Zac pivoted too. ‘Hmm . . .’

  In an instant, she felt the dark curtains of her old claustrophobia begin to drop. ‘Zac . . .’ Her voice felt breathy, the panic swooping down upon her like a black veil.

  ‘It’s okay, Bo. It’s that way,’ he said, pointing to the light behind her. ‘We’re swimming against the tide, remember?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said quietly, but the anxiety had already kicked in, her pulse spiking.

  ‘You okay?’ He was watching her.

  ‘Of course. Let’s do this.’ She needed to get out of here. Now.

  ‘Bo—’

  . . . And putting her snorkel back in, she dived down again, feeling the pressure push against her ears almost immediately as she went slightly too deep, that hollow wallowy sound absorbing her as part of itself. Feeling the strength in her legs from the adrenaline burst, she kicked hard, her arms pushing against the water as though trying to part it. She travelled fast but within a few moments she knew she was swimming too hard for one breath – more effort meant more heartbeats, meant more oxygen. Up ahead, she could see the faint glow of light beginning to grow like a blooming white rose; pigment was beginning to intensify too, shades of aquamarine and celadon tinting the water as she headed for the light, a few small silver fish darting by the rocks, further away than they seemed.

  Her lungs felt like they were inflating further with every stroke, and she realized she should have travelled further along the tunnel on the surface before diving underwater again. Holding her breath for an extra fifteen metres was reckless. She glanced up but too late, she was beneath the cliffs once more; she couldn’t surface here and the tunnel was too tight to turn, not to mention she would collide with Zac right behind her, the red light of the camera following her, always on her, like a shadow fish.

  She swam on. The light, though closer, still seemed too far away, the instinct to let go of the breath now becoming a growing urge, the pressure in her lungs beginning to scream through her body as her arms and legs continued to propel her onwards. She was nearly there, five, maybe six, strokes away but she couldn’t tell for certain, her vision was becoming spotted, her body fighting itself now. She couldn’t hold on for much longer . . . She had to breathe—

  Distantly, she felt an arm scoop round her like a belt, had the sensation of water moving over her more quickly and then, suddenly, air – like a slap upon her skin – making her gasp and choke.

  ‘Bo?’ Zac was holding her. She couldn’t stop coughing. ‘Bo, are you okay?’ His voice was fractured, as though bits had been chiselled off it.

  ‘What happened?’ she managed, holding on to him, aware of a current pulling them back in the direction from which they’d come.

  ‘You went limp, you were blacking out.’

  ‘Oh.’ Blankly, she could see now he was holding on to a rope. They had been told it had been put here precisely because of the strong undertow, pulling swimmers down and out towards the ocean tunnels. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No. Don’t be sorry.’ He frowned, his handsome face crumpled with worry and she could see for herself the fright she had given him. Holding her face in his hands, he kissed her tenderly. ‘Why’d you go off so fast?’

  What could she say? That she’d panicked? That it had taken only one moment of lowering her guard to spook her again? That it would never really be over, no matter how far she travelled or how brave she pretended to be? ‘I just couldn’t wait for that kiss you promised me,’ she said instead.

  In a single movement, Zac had both her and his masks off and he was kissing her properly this time, his body warm against hers even in the cool morning water. ‘Tell me again you’ll marry me.’

  ‘I’ll marry you, Zac Austen.’

  His lips curved against hers in a smile as they kissed again, Zac holding the rope with one arm, his other looped around her waist. ‘I had planned to ask you out here,’ he said, indicating their new surroundings with a flick of his eyes. ‘But I couldn’t wait.’ Together they both looked up and around them. The cave walls loomed up in a perfect circle thirty metres high, but where the ceiling should have been, there was a natural crater instead, the sky seemingly framed by the land. And even tho
ugh they only had a small circle of it to view from here, it was a magnificent dawn, amber light flaming now like phoenix wings against the fast-receding indigo night.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Zac whispered, his Kiwi accent stronger than ever, as it always was when words weren’t enough. ‘It’s even better than I thought it’d be.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bo murmured, her body recovering from the fright and, grabbing the rope with one hand herself, allowing herself to float on her back again, the tow making her body drift. Giant green vines and creepers dangled along the walls and on one side a ramshackle no-rails ladder led down to a makeshift wooden platform. That was the entrance by which most tourists came and was precisely why she and Zac had come through the ocean tunnel. Those tourists were also the reason they had hauled themselves out of bed at the crack of sparrows, to have the place to themselves. Seclusion was their luxury.

  Putting his mask back on, Zac plunged his head into the water again, looking down at the distant rocks and trying to identify the casually gliding fish. ‘There’s so many,’ he said, surfacing briefly and looking like an excited child.

  She smiled and watched as he disappeared completely below the surface, his arms like blades, the muscles in his back opening and closing with each stroke. He made swimming look effortless, as though he’d been raised as a pearl diver in Tahiti, and not an insurance salesman’s son in Christchurch. The tide was going out but he reached the bottom easily, skimming along the pool bed on his stomach for a bit before turning over onto his back and waving up at her.

  Even three metres down, he exuded the qualities that had drawn her to him like a magnetic charge: energy, positivity, boyish charm, adventurousness, curiosity, bloody gorgeous.

  She waved back. That stunning, dynamic man was going to be her husband, her family, her home, and their life together would always be this: unpredictable, exciting and exotic.

  Tragedy may have set her on this path but she was basking in rainbows now. Life was making it up to her. She was happy, she was loved. She was safe.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t wait,’ Lenny said, the beer bottle in his hand as he leant against the veranda, the Pacific Ocean a timpanic score over his shoulder. His lean frame, silhouetted against the sunset, looked like a gnarled and knotted piece of the driftwood that had been used to make the beach shack, his wavy, dark hair a good two inches longer since they’d been here so that it now rested on his shoulders, reinforcing his ‘surf bum’ vibe. But then, they had all grown feral-looking and thin here, their eyes bright against skin that was now as dark as tanned hides.