Shadows danced their midnight ballet on the walls and the wind sang a gloomy symphony, crying like a wolf in the ink of the night. The guardian beam flashed and died, flashed and died with uniform precision; a hibernating heart, slow but sustaining.
“You awake?” asked the boy, disturbing the silence in the room.
“Uh-huh, I can’t sleep.” The girl’s whisper cracked and faded.
“Wanna sneak out?”
“And go where?”
“To the lighthouse…”
Covers were thrown like crashing waves, shoes pulled on and laces tied with trembling fingers. The young girl tied her long black mane back in a ponytail but ringlets escaped and framed her pale face. And, in singlet and shorts, she followed her brother into the darkened corridor.
Voices floated up from downstairs:
“Henry, dear! Pour us another glass, will you?”
“Gillian, that’s your eighth already.”
“Oh, James, stop being such a prude.”
“Jenny, have you got any more of that delicious cheese?”
“Which one, Maggie? The Brie or the Camembert?”
“William, turn up this song. Frankie Porter sang this to me in the sixth form…
How do you do what you do to me? If I only knew…
Then perhaps you’d fall for me like I fell for you.”
“Frankie Porter sang this to everyone in the sixth form, Gillian!”
“James, must you always lessen my achievements?”
The floor creaked and groaned as the children descended cautiously, step by step and breath by breath, inching closer to the heavy door that represented both fear and exhilaration. The handle turned without a sound, the oiled hinges made not a sound and they opened the door with feverish excitement.
“What happens if we get caught, Joshua?”
“Scaredy cat, we won’t get caught.”
Yolanda clamped her mouth. She didn’t like being called a scaredy-cat.
Through the garden they ran, their way illuminated by the light from the windows of the house, where their parents were entertaining guests, and punctured by the beam from the lighthouse.
Shrubs tickled Yolanda’s calves, as though invisible fairies reached out as she slipped past, and a stiff branch stuck in her hair and cracked like a whip as it snapped. Her heart skipped a beat as she ducked behind a tree, certain that the adults had heard.
“Joshua! Wait for me…”
Her timid voice carried on the wind like a melody.
“Catch up, Yolanda. Hurry, before they see us.”
His protective voice pierced the night, just like the lighthouse’s beacon.
Faster and faster she forced her legs to carry her through the darkness of the now unfamiliar garden; the garden that she and her brother played in every day now seemed like a maze of spider-webs and ditches, threatening to trap her while Joshua streaked ahead.
Beyond the garden, the darkness engulfed them both, coming in from either side and all around until – flash! – the lighthouse pointed the way; their guardian angel beckoning them to come. The light from the house was now just a dim haze in the distance; a campfire that had lost its flames and warmth, but the coals still glowed.
Joshua darted between the trees while Yolanda ducked beneath their ground-hugging boughs, fighting spiders and prickles and the demons and witches from the story she had read in the safety of her bed. Out here, though, the creatures of her imagination came to life and she had no covers to hide under. She had only her brother to watch over her.
“Jump the fence, Yolanda. Jump over it.”
She hurdled over the low stone wall and landed on the other side with a soft thud and then dashed towards Joshua, who stood at the base of the lighthouse, waiting for her.
“Let’s walk along the wall.”
“All the way around?”
“Yes.”
“What if—?”
“You won’t fall.”
“What if I do?”
“I’ll catch you.”
Yolanda took a deep breath and watched, wide-eyed, as Joshua clambered onto the ledge and straightened himself up. His hand shot out to her like a safety harness and she gripped it tightly as he pulled her up beside him. She pushed a stray ringlet behind her ear and trod carefully behind him as they rounded the lighthouse to the edge of the cliff.
Every few seconds, the bright white ray of light illuminated the foaming surf that thundered below them. While, out to sea, menacing forks of silver lightning flashed in the sky and then ominously rumbled like an old steam train four elephants later. Yolanda could smell the coming rain on the cool ocean breeze and that familiar and comforting scent wrapped itself around her, as though it was a cherished blanket that warmed her tiny body.
She lowered her body, steadying herself against the increasing gusts and gripping the edges of the wall in her delicate hands, and sat down warily. The stone was cool and humid and the dampness moistened the back of her shorts. Yolanda looked up as the silver clouds parted to reveal the silver moon … and then it was gone again, and then it was back. Its fullness glowed like a spotlight and it shone down onto her inquisitive, upturned face, making her squint at its brightness.
“Why are the grown-ups celebrating?” she asked her brother curiously.
“Because tomorrow is the first of January.”
“But what does that mean, Joshua?”
“It’s the beginning of the New Year.”
“And?”
“And … so they drink Champagne and cheer and blow horns…”
“And they wear silly hats!” she added, proud at her offering. “But why do they do all that?”
“Because grown-ups always celebrate the New Year.”
“Why don’t we celebrate it?”
“Because we’re little, I guess.”
“Can we celebrate the New Year tonight?”
He nodded excitedly. “From here I bet we’ll be able to see the fireworks.”
“What are they?”
“Fireworks are big, colourful explosions in the sky. They’re really pretty.”
Yolanda sprung to her feet. “When do they happen?”
“At midnight.”
“Why then?”
“Because that’s when the new day begins.”
Yolanda tilted her head in careful thought about this impossibility.
“No, it’s not!” she scoffed with delight, satisfied that her brother had tried to play a trick on her and she hadn’t believed him. “At midnight it’s dark, Joshua. Dark as dark can be.”
He shook his head and exhaled.
Yolanda nodded smugly. “What else do we do to celebrate the New Year?”
“Well, the grown-ups make up a list of things called revolutions.”
“Revolutions?” she asked, enchanted by the notion of making up revolutions.
“Yeah, they write lists about all the things they have to do next year.”
“Like the way Mummy writes Daddy a list of all the things he has to fix?”
“Yeah, only different.”
“How are revolutions different?”
“Well, they’re about life, not about gardening or changing light bulbs.”
Yolanda was hooked. “What do you mean?”
The faint puck of a distant explosion interrupted her questions.
“Shhh, I think they’ve started. Let’s walk around the other side so we can watch them,” Joshua hurriedly suggested and took Yolanda’s hand, pulling her along the narrow edge of the wall.
They braced themselves against the strong wind and shuffled around the lighthouse for a better view. Catching the glimpse of a sparkle out of the corner of her eye, Yolanda looked up as the purple lights faded into the black night.
“Joshua! Joshua! Look! It’s like glitter in the sky! Look!”
Gold. Silver. Red. Green.
All the colours of the rainbow together, exploding like a dandelion seed and falling like rain. Rushing upward, fast and faster, rocketing, whistling, igniting, falling, fading.
And repeat.
“God’s sprinkling glitter all over the sky.”
“It’s not glitter, that’s what fireworks look like.”
“You were right, Joshua, they are really pretty.”
The children watched the fireworks display until the sky sparkled no more, but, excited by the spectacle, they climbed through the rocks down to the beach, where the faint lamps along the esplanade gave them enough light to look for shells and tumbled pebbles, smoothed over time, beauty fading with dryness.
The wet sand was rough against Yolanda’s youthful feet. She sprinted across the cold, shadowy sand towards the surf, only to be called back by her brother.
“Not too close, Yolanda, it’s too dark.”
“The rain’s coming, Joshua. The rain’s almost here!” she shouted over the growling water, feeling the first mists of drizzle against her skin.
“We’d better go back, then.”
“No! Just a little while longer, please. I want to play in the rain.”
The first drop splattered right in the middle of her head, in the part of her hair, and she shrieked with delight at the feeling. She picked up a pebble and tossed it at her brother.
“Ow, Yolanda! Not too hard…”
She giggled and raced off down the beach towards the lighthouse from where they had come. The lamp was still turning round and round, beaming through the rain and illuminating the drops, making them shine like crystals in the black sky.
“Let’s play hide-and-go-seek, Joshua,” Yolanda called out to her brother as she ran away. “Count to twenty and come find me.”
Her little legs carried her with surefooted ease around and between the boulders, up to the lighthouse. The moon peeked through the storm clouds and caught her figure in its spotlight, her white singlet and shorts gleaming in the light, and Joshua’s line of sight followed his sister’s shape along the ledge and into the safety and protection of the lighthouse building.
The moon vanished and the downpour became heavier, soaking his pyjamas and chilling his skin so goosebumps appeared. Strands of hair stuck to his face, guiding streams of rain along his jaw and to the point of his chin, where the water drained off and down his front.
“Ready or not, here I come!” he called out, barely able to hear his voice above the din of the roaring ocean and howling wind.
Joshua scrambled through the rocks up to the lighthouse and ran into the building. The door slammed behind him. He shook his head vigorously, spraying water into every corner.
“Joshua, come up here, quick!” his sister’s voice urged from somewhere above.
He glanced up to the void and, six stories high, his sister’s face peered over the rail and looked down at him, grinning. The beacon glowed a little further up, continuing its impassive revolutions, slow and steady.
Joshua ascended the rickety wooden steps two at a time, round and round until he reached his sister, and they climbed the last flight together, hand in hand. The beacon hummed like a contented cat as it maintained its motion, unaffected by the visitors.
Yolanda stared with pensive curiosity at the purring contraption, shielding her eyes each time the light touched her face.
“Let’s make our own revolutions, Joshua.”
“You first.”
“But what do I say?”
“You have to say you’ll do something good or change something about yourself, to make you better.”
She paused in careful contemplation for a moment and touched her finger to her lip.
“What do you mean?”
Joshua exhaled. “Like you have to promise to help Mummy more, like setting the table without being asked, packing your toys away, or not telling fibs. Stuff like that.”
“Who do I promise to?”
“Yourself.”
“Shouldn’t I promise to Mummy, though?”
“No, because a revolution is a promise to yourself to be a better person, and if you don’t keep the promise, only you will know, but that will make you feel a bit bad inside, kind of sad, so you’ll make sure you keep the revolution so you don’t feel sad.”
“All right,” Yolanda said, puffing out her chest, “I promise to help Mummy more. I will set the table every second night, and you can do it when I don’t,” she informed her brother sternly. “And I will clear the table every second night too, and you can clear it when I don’t. We can take turns, Joshua.”
He nodded.
“And I will pack away all my toys when I finish playing with them, I will have a bath and brush my teeth when Mummy or Daddy tells me to. Now it’s your turn, Joshua.”
“I promise to help Dad with the gardening every weekend, to keep my hands and face clean like Mum tells me to, and to do my homework as soon as I come home from school. And I promise not to fight at school and not to disrupt the class.”
“What does disrupt mean?”
“It means making noise and being naughty.”
“Are you naughty at school?”
“Sometimes.”
Yolanda looked up at the lighthouse beacon again and closed her eyes, concentrating on the systematic whirrs and groans it made as it carried on with its protective mission, turning, blinking, saving, turning. She imagined herself out to sea, the boat rocking in the swelling, swollen black water, watching for the regular flash of the lighthouse on the cape and making sure it was always at a safe distance.
“The rain has stopped now, Joshua,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “Let’s go back now.”
The sleeping horizon was beginning to blush as the children made their way home. The rising east was striped like the sweet flavours of ice cream.
Yolanda and Joshua crept into the house, pyjamas still damp and clinging to tired bodies. A burst of laughter made them stiffen like rabbits caught in a car’s headlights. The cackles faded into murmurs, and the same comforting voices that disguised their escape now concealed their return.
“Henry, dear! Pour us another glass, will you?”
And Yolanda fell asleep as the sun’s first rays warmed the back veranda. She fell asleep with the taste of salt on her lips, fireworks in her dreams and a thousand revolutions spinning around her head.
