The Lighthouse

The Isles of Scilly

1979- The Isles of Scilly- off the south-western tip of Cornwall  

Billy Murphy stared longingly at the Bishop Rock lighthouse from his bedroom window. He was obsessed with it, and always had been. Much of his time was passed admiring the mighty structure from afar, and dreaming of one day appreciating it up close.

It stood alone in the water, completely isolated from land, teetering on the jagged rocks lurking below. The dirty, chalk coloured cylindrical body curved 51 metres into the air, set against a black stormy canvas.

It was all alone, out there on a treacherous stormy sea, its sturdy granite platform standing firm against the constant commanding barrage. He related to his beloved Bishop on so many levels.

The sea was particularly rough that night; the waves crash high upon the side of the tower, instead of licking the rocks below. The dark expanse of water swirled and shifted in formation, attacking Bishop's Rock from all angles, but the black waves were thrown back from the brick in a mixture of white foam and bubbles.

Most children Billy's age were terrified of lightning and thunder, but this 12-year-old sat eagerly awaiting each bolt, as it illuminated his pride and joy. Each crack of eye-splitting light provided another glimpse, and each following growl of thunder Billy imagined was Bishop defiantly retaliating to the elements.

The deep blue curtains surrounding Billy's window billowed in the wind, fluttering back into his room like extensions of the sea's waves.

Billy opened his window out further and shuffled onto the window ledge, his legs dangling into the night. He moved further and further out until he was on the very edge of the windowsill, millimetres from falling; teetering just like his beloved Bishop. The icy winter breeze slapped his face and burned his nostrils as he took a deep, long breath. How he wished he could be out there, just him and Bishop, away from everything else.

The rickety bedroom door creaked open behind him.

"Bill, are you feeling bet-"

His words froze in the cold breeze, as he spotted his son half-way out the window. "Jesus Christ Billy! Get down from there! You're already ill! Oh God, look at you, you're as white as a sheet you fool!"

The back of his pyjama top pulled tight against his chest as his father yanked him back from the open window. Warmth seeped into his cool skin as strong arms held him close. A moment later he was weightless with his feet dangling above the floor while his father carried him to bed and tucked into the soft sheets.

"You need to stop doing this, Billy; you're not a healthy boy at the moment," his father pleaded with him as he shut the windows and drew the curtains.

"But Dad! What about Bish-"

His portal to Bishop was closed.

"Oh, shut up about that bloody lighthouse!" his dad snapped back before calming himself down. "Billy, you know I love you. You have to listen to me, the only way you're going to get better is if you stay tucked up, nice and warm in bed. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad," Billy said begrudgingly.

He was sick of this constant concern and attention. His parents had been fussing over him for some time now. Just because he would never leave the house to play with the other boys on the island, and barely had anyone he could call a friend.

All he wanted to do was talk about Bishop Rock, and as if his parents worrying wasn't bad enough, he had been seriously ill for the past two months now.

The local doctors had no idea what was wrong with him, and even those on the mainland could offer no help. Billy constantly seemed to look a worryingly pale shade of white, and was freezing cold to touch. His eyes were often swollen and bloodshot, red lines dancing through the whites like branches on a dying tree.

His mother and father simply didn't know what to do anymore, except wait.

"Are you going to visit him though?" Billy asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"The lighthouse? No, son. Your mother's away and I can't leave you here on your own like this. The boys will understand if I take a night or two off work, I'm sure."

"But what if Bishop get's lonely?" Billy questioned with a worried tone.

"Get some sleep," his father sighed, stroking his head softly.