The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse

By Jack Dey

A blinding flash lit up the dark, winter night closely followed by a deep, opulent rumble. The intensity hit her in the chest, making her scream in fear and cover her ears against the tumultuous cacophony. Katie grappled with the nightmare scene, clutching at her hair in desperation. Her mind refused to believe what she had just seen. It was still here, waiting for her to return. To trap her again. The walls of fear, undermined and partially dismantled by many years of absence from Contention Island, began to build its foreboding prison about her again. She had been a fool, lured back into her past, seduced by the idea of gaining control over her nemesis and finally breaking free of his power. Her knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the sand, her mind shutting down under the immense shock.

And now Becky’s recurring nightmares are increasing, drawing her deeper into Katie’s agony. But who is Katie? And why is she haunting Becky’s dreams? Brett needs to get to the bottom of Becky’s night time terrors and release his wife from Katie’s increasing influence, an influence that is threatening her very existence.

Adventure. Danger. Intrigue. Love. Courage. Redemption. Come on the journey but be warned, there is no turning back and the consequences will leave your head spinning. A haunting mystery with a sting in its tail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Dey
• Release date: Nov 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310731396

Jack Dey

Jack Dey, born to adventure, lives in the beautiful rainforest of tropical North Queensland, Australia. He has three loves in his life: Jesus; the Editor—his wife of 30 something years; and writing adventure novels. He is the author of MAHiNA; Paradise Warrior; Aunt Tabbie's Wings; The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse; The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq; The Valley of Flowers; La Belle Suisse (co-authored with Dodie La Mirounette); Zero; Naive; and Brindabella's Prophet. He is currently researching and writing his latest book, Apostate. Jack writes only to please Papa God and considers his writing a ministry, demanding nothing from the reader for his e-books. If you like Jack Dey’s books and would like to support his ministry, please consider praying for the team at Jack Dey and telling your friends about his other titles. New books are constantly being written with the intention of being a pencil in Jesus’ hand and bringing joy and encouragement to you, the reader.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Katie stood transfixed on the beach. Her hands shook slightly and her stomach tightly knotted, while tendrils of jet black hair whipped around her face and stung her eyes, driven mercilessly by the approaching storm. This was the first time in years she’d returned to Contention Island, but as if time had frozen into a sneering pause, nothing had changed. Things were still as they were. Even so, she’d come a long way in her recovery just to be standing in this place, the place that had haunted her sleep and stolen so much of her youth. Over the years, the relentless nightmares and cowering fear had faded, giving her a reckless sense of strength, imagining she was strong enough and if she confronted her tormentor, things would change. Things would become normal.

Whatever normal was.

But standing here on Contention Island, it was all too clear she had overestimated her strength and wasn’t ready to take such a drastic step. She still had a long way to go to reclaim her life. Katie pulled in a shuddery breath at the memory, overwhelmed by the tragedy and hung her head in her hands, collapsing to the beach sand while the tears began all too easily and the familiar ache returned as if it was just yesterday, let alone twenty years ago.

Maybe it hadn’t been long enough.

Curled in the cold sand with her face buried in her hands, she thought the demons lurking in her past had been overcome, subdued by a stronger, wiser creed helping her to make sense of the circumstances that had so drastically altered her past. As the wailing cries reached fever pitch and carried on the storm, Katie began to sob, holding her hands over her ears and trying to block out the horrendous despair. Shuddering with their memory and the unrestrained agony, she castigated herself for being so stupid. This wasn’t a good idea after all, and tonight she was living her past again, troubled and deceived by a deeper cry... one too close to ignore. Anarchy reigned then and it still reigns now unchecked while the burgeoning cries and howling wind lay testament...

It was still here, waiting for her to return, to trap her again.

Raising herself to her knees, Katie’s tear-stained eyes searched the blackness of the sea behind the breakers, trying to ignore the wails but searching, always searching, just like in her nightmares. It had been a night exactly like this, dark and imposing, raging at the foot of an unnatural storm and when the rain began with such tenacity, it chilled her to her core and she began to shiver, still searching the sky beyond the breakers, her arms crossed over her chest against the teeming rain and wind-driven chill.

Then she saw it, not once but several times, and with each manifestation the terrified wails erupted, screaming in unison with the force of the howling wind. The walls of fear, undermined and partially dismantled by many years of absence from Contention Island, began to build its foreboding prison about her again. Katie grappled with the nightmare scene, clutching at her hair in desperation while her mind refused to believe what she’d just seen.

From a place outside of her line of sight and buried in the night, another pair of eyes watched with a cat-like stare, stalking through the sand and leaning into the wind and rain. An unexpected blinding flash lit up the cold, dark winter night for a fraction of a second, catching her nemesis unaware and scurrying to hide his prowling presence before she recognised his creeping pursuit. Pulling the stolen darkness around himself again and hoping to hide, a vicious, rattling cra-ack exploded around Katie, tearing open the sky and shaking the ground below her. Screaming with fright and almost blue from cold, Katie instantly covered her numbing ears with her hands and cringed under the attack, the intensity so loud it hit her in the chest like a blast, distorting her eardrums and distracting her sweeping gaze. Overwhelmed by its trickery and reeling from her loss, Katie’s knees buckled under her and she collapsed to the sand, her mind shutting down under the immense shock.

Once again, the decision wasn’t hers... yet the consequences were devastating.

Protected by the storm, the stalking fiend stooped over the place she’d fallen and deliberately searched the scene for prying eyes, then cautiously scooped the unconscious figure into his arms and like the secrecy of the wind, effortlessly vanished into the shadowy night, carrying his unsuspecting prey and leaving little evidence to expose his deadly game. Finely honed and subtle in its deception, the trap closed over Katie yet again, drowning her in the hatred of love, where life seems cheap and no one could hear her frantic screams...

or cared whether she lived or died.

A jiggling, floating movement momentarily drew Katie back from a desperate nether world, granting consciousness for a fleeting second while focusing on the black, cat-like eyes of her captor, crushing the woman with escalating fear. She tried to scream, but the sound fell impotent to her feet. Seemingly, it was all happening again, as if history was repeating itself. She’d been a fool, lured back into her past by the same events that had trapped her in her childhood, seduced by the idea of gaining control over her nemesis and finally breaking free of his power. Her strength stolen and struggling in vain to stop the cycle of events, her body went limp and she blacked out...

Dangling unprotected in his insatiable grasp.

*~*~*~*

A sudden scream broke into a deep, subliminal sleep and scrambled the pleasant dreams into another world where the protector mechanism stirred, ready to deal with any intruder, but it took only a moment to realise where he was and what was taking place. The dark room illuminated by the clock radio’s red digital numbers offered light enough to see the pained face of his wife struggling in yet another nightmare.

Becky, wake up, honey!

Gentle hands shook her trembling body and dispatched the fiend lurking in her sleep. The bedside lamp erupted, dividing the formidable darkness, paining their eyes and driving the world of fear back into the shadows. The confused expression on Becky’s face, her brow moist from the battle, was an all too familiar indicator to the depth of her enchantment.

Shaking off the nightmare grasp and recognising the familiar room, she spoke, exhausted and in a low, perplexed voice, What happened?

It was Katie again, wasn’t it? the concerned voice of her husband, Brett, questioned as he pulled her into his arms.

Becky trembled in her husband’s embrace, trying to find the words as the worried frown deeply furrowed her stunning features. When she did speak, her voice was muffled in her husband’s shoulder and her tone brought a shiver to his spine. She was back on Contention Island.

Becky hadn’t dreamt of Katie for years, and now for some reason Katie was bothering her subconscious again. The nightmare character had been a regular visitor into the young couple's lives, at first, but unknown to Brett, Becky had been plagued by nightmares of Katie throughout her life. Once they were married, Katie’s invasion of Becky’s subconscious lessened, but was regular enough for Brett to form a picture of Katie with her disturbing adventures through the nightmares Becky suffered. Becky had no idea how she came to dream of the strange apparition, having never met a girl named Katie in real life, let alone become friends with one. Nonetheless, Katie’s arrival back on Contention Island was not a welcome revelation, with Brett understanding enough of the nightmares to surmise Katie’s anguish was set to get deeper and Becky would suffer as a result. He had to get to the bottom of these disturbing nightmares and find out who Katie was and why Katie affected Becky’s dreams so profoundly.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 2

A highly agitated captain nervously paced on the bridge of the steam cutter, Rebellious, seething that the boilers had once again dumped the valuable steam pressure, leaving them powerless and bobbing around at the mercy of the heavy ocean swells. Yet he knew his overworked engine room was doing the best they could with the antiquated equipment they were forced to work with. Along with countless others, the sea freight company had fallen on hard times due to the stock market crash resounding through the autumn of 1929 and folding up the fortunes of many well-to-do in a perilous fiscal house of cards. Those that could survive only did so by cutting corners and spending what was absolutely necessary, with the much needed repairs to Rebellious’ boilers secretly dropped from the maintenance schedule. Nonetheless, the company still expected the cargo to make its destination on time.

The steam pressure was vital to drive the steam engines, to keep the cutter from being smashed against the feared jagged rocks of Black Dean laying in wait, just ahead. Any more delays would be a dire cost to the schedule and place the ship in mortal peril, having just enough time to traverse the passage safely as long as their boilers maintained pressure. An offshore, solid rock barrier acted as an impasse to the international shipping route, submersed and invisible just below the surface at high tide, and one hour's steaming time from the shore. Guarding the length of the coast and the entry to vital ports, it forced shipping to take a long detour around the southern end of the reef, a journey that added two days onto any trip. Entering the narrow Barrett Channel between Black Dean and Contention Island was difficult enough in daylight and low tide, where the jagged walls of the channel could be easily seen, but was considered suicide attempting it blind at night.

Barrett Channel had been discovered in the early days of sail by William Barrett. A one-in-a-hundred-year’s low tide allowed Barrett to observe the length of the rock barrier’s saw-toothed walls reaching many miles in both directions along the coast and preventing direct access to the mainland ports from the open ocean. With all its glory exposed by the unusual tide, Barrett subsequently discovered a narrow passage through the obstruction, which allowed an undeviating shortcut without the lengthy detour around the reef. Cautiously picking his way along the narrow passage, he added the coordinates to enter the narrow channel onto his map, noting it was exactly three miles from the northern tip of Contention Island. Keeping the island focused, on a northerly aspect over the point of the bow, ensured the vessel remained safely within the narrow cutting. Contention Island itself seemed to straddle the lengthy rock barrier, with the west side facing the distant land and the east facing the open ocean, giving Barrett a clear picture why circumnavigating the formidable island was impossible to ships.

Traversing the passage at the bottom of the tide, Barrett catalogued and marked on his map the exact location of a gaping, deep black hole that lay across the channel’s width. Intrigued by this strange phenomena, he lowered a long boat and ordered his second mate, Riley Dean, to row over to the deep hole for a closer look. As the tide began to run back in, a violent swirling motion gripped the tiny craft, spinning it in the vortex’s mouth before overpowering the churning vessel and dragging it in ever-increasing speed until it disappeared with Dean onboard, down the gullet of the raging whirlpool. Watching in absolute terror as Dean vanished without a trace and went to his death, Barrett named the chaotic ocean hole Black Dean in Dean’s memory, and as a future warning of Dean’s horrific demise.

Managing to escape the tyrannical whirlpool with only moments to spare, Barrett, however, on his second journey through the passage, approached the channel upon high tide and quickly became disorientated. As his vessel languished, blindly idling where the passage should be, the tide turned and Black Dean opened its massive mouth, appearing much larger and more violent than he remembered. In less than a heartbeat, the hapless sailing boat locked into a life-and-death battle with the eddying currents, but Black Dean was too strong and overpowered the vessel, smashing the wooden hull into splinters against the turbulent rock walls. Powerless against the aggressively swirling maelstrom, the doomed craft along with Barrett and his crew vanished, drawn down into Black Dean’s gaping mouth and disappeared without a trace.

The discovery and the growing legends surrounding the Barrett Passage, and moreover, Black Dean’s vile rage purportedly swallowing many hapless ships, hadn’t deterred vessels from using the shortcut. Captains and the companies they represented considered the economic advantages of the Barrett Passage a risk worth taking, but only a madman would attempt the treacherous channel and its bad moods at night or high tide. Over the years, it was discovered that Black Dean calmed at the very top or bottom of the tidal flow, when the current stopped and the tide turned from running in to running out. On one such incidence, it was observed by a passing vessel that Black Dean was actually a massive underwater hole in Barrett Channel’s rock shelf, but unable to see into the chasm’s depths, legend grew out of the unknown and demanded it was bottomless. As the tide quickly turned and began its furious run, heavy currents emanating from the hole took the observers off-guard and churned into a swirling vortex, requiring the unsuspecting vessel to use all the power at its disposal and only just able to throw off Black Dean’s thrashing grasp. Once news of Black Dean’s embellished conduct made it back to port, a new round of myth grew out of the encounter, with sailors reporting seeing powerful whirlpools that could swallow anything that ventured too close to its gaping mouth. Legend and truth collided among the seafarers, but once they had experienced it personally, nothing about Black Dean was unbelievable.

At last, word from the boiler room came to Rebellious’ bridge carried by an enthusiastic young seaman. Sir, the engineer is confident that the boiler will hold this time, the young seaman reported.

It had better, otherwise we will all get to see Black Dean at its worst... from the bottom! the captain agitated. Dismissing the seaman with a bothered slight, the captain shifted the engine order telegraph to full ahead flank and with a bell sounding in the engine room, the engine operator responded with full power from the boiler. A bell sounded again in the bridge and an indicator moved to show the captain that the engine room had received the message and had understood. Removing a small telescope from the helm and aiming it across at the horizon, the captain scrutinised a position where he estimated the entrance to the Barrett Passage should be. But with the sun setting fast and less than thirty minutes to high tide, the treacherous channel walls were invisible. Catching the nervous eye of his first mate, the captain read the unspoken question. We have no choice, Mr Bramph. Let’s just pray our boilers hold their steam and we make it through without tangling with Black Dean.

Shifting nervously on his feet, the mate knew the pressure the captain was under from the company to keep his schedule, with any delays for whatever reason met with stern consequences. Contention Island lay dead ahead, but its shape faded in the failing light, so the captain aimed his boat for where he presumed the northern tip of the small island to be, which would supposedly line him up for the centre of the channel. He only hoped he hadn’t made the turn too early, which would change his approach trajectory and lead him onto the rocks.

In the growing twilight, the view of Contention Island faded ever faster, leaving the small telescope useless and all they could do was try to steer along a predetermined course. Avoiding the fear-filled eyes of his first mate, the captain reached for the engine order telegraph to cut speed, but as he did the vessel abruptly lurched sideways, groaning as Black Dean tore open Rebellious’ hull and threw the crew to the floor under the impact. In the following chaos, the sinking vessel shrieked with pain but there wasn’t time to think, let alone board the lifeboats with Rebellious listing immediately as the lower decks surged with water, filling the hull with a tidal wave through Black Dean’s jagged bite marks. In less than a minute, Rebellious pointed her bow into the gaping mouth of Black Dean, and in a moment of surrender, slipped, spiralling into the churning water, her boilers hissing violently as the cold water extinguished her flame, taking her crew down with her.

As darkness settled over Black Dean, all trace of a dying vessel disappeared into the swirling vortex, forever hidden in a perfect crime.

*~*~*~*

A small man in a dark business suit, clutching a clipboard, stood searching the dock for the familiar ship. Rebellious was the company’s flagship, capable of carrying more cargo than any other of their competitors, yet she was the only vessel in the diminishing fleet making money for the financially burdened sea freight company. The small man nervously withdrew his pocket watch and caught it by the chain securing it to his breeches, flipped open the cover and huffed. They were late, and there would be strife to pay and it would be him who had to pay it. Rebellious was due in early that morning and an agitated major customer was demanding his cargo, threatening to take his business elsewhere if he didn’t get what he wanted... NOW!

As the morning progressed with still no sign of Rebellious, the small man became intently nervous. After yet another sweep of the harbour just in case she had slipped in unnoticed, the man left the dock and approached the company office across from the water's edge. Reporting to the owner that Rebellious was now many hours late, a situation her captain knew was unacceptable and was driven to avoid at all cost, the owner decided to send a steamer out to search, just in case of a breakdown. It was a dubious call and the owner knew in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong when she didn’t answer any of their radio transmissions. All company vessels were required to maintain radio integrity at all times.

The harbour abounded with talk of the missing cargo ship, with everybody plainly aware the freight company was pushing their captains to keep tight schedules and take big risks to do so; but no one dared to express the unthinkable.

Until a wiry, seasoned sailor soon put to words his growing suspicion, All this talk is foolishness. Last night was high tide just after sundown and with no other choice, they probably approached the passage on sunset, blind and behind schedule. The captain would’ve had to risk the crossing and if they’ve fallen foul of Black Dean, it will be pointless searching for survivors or wreckage. Black Dean never leaves any trace.

Many ears listened to the words of the sailor, but no one spoke. They only hoped he was wrong and that Rebellious would somehow limp safely into port.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 3

Rebecca Redden walked with a new spring in her step and bubbling joy in her heart. She couldn’t wait to reveal her news to her husband, Brett, and once he knew, they could announce their news to their parents together. As she pushed open the doors to the doctor’s waiting room and floated out into the street, Becky knew something was different inside her, and now the doctor had confirmed it... she was expecting their first child.

Becky offhandedly mentioned the nightmares to her doctor on the chance he may have some advice for her, but after a reassurance that her hormones may be causing some strange happenings, she dropped the subject, especially when he suggested making an appointment with a psychologist. She didn’t feel like having some stranger tromping all over her mind with hobnail boots.

*~*~*~*

Deadlines were a usual occurrence in a busy newspaper office and an aspiring editor had to be concentrating at all times. Spelling mistakes and poor grammar just didn’t cut it with the expectant readers of a major city paper, so every story had to be meticulously checked and rechecked. The weekend edition was Brett’s opportunity to take the company reigns, showcase his ability and earn a much coveted promotion to editor and chief once his boss retired in a couple of months, with a significant pay rise accompanying the promotion. However, along with the benefit came a dramatic increase in workload, too. The extra pay was a welcome proposition, especially since Becky had been giving gentle hints about wanting a baby.

Brett let his mind wander from his work for a few moments at the thought of a family and then diverted to the plaguing nightmares Becky was experiencing. As if he suddenly remembered something, Brett reached for his executive diary, opened to the latest page and made a resolute entry: Contention Island, then circled it with a red pen, closed his organizer and cleared his mind to concentrate on editing another reporter’s work.

This is a lot of garbage, he thought, then taking a look at the news story’s author, he soon knew why. Grimacing and shaking his head, Brett could just see the editor and chief blowing a fuse, pulling the story and throwing it across the room in disgust.

When the desk phone broke into his thoughts and demanded he pay attention to the requirements of yet another struggling newspaper journalist, Brett was just a little edgy. Brett Redden.

Hey, Brett... editor and chief.

Hello, Smiley. I’m not editor and chief just yet, Brett replied, hoping Smiley’s call would be brief.

You will, you will. How’s my piece? Did the boss like it?

Your piece was a delight, as usual. Maybe you can give Mr Downey a few tips. I can predict with all certainty his work is going to be pulled again.

Smiley laughed his infectious laugh, drawing in even the most morbid people and soon a very preoccupied Brett was laughing along with him.

So, is this a social call or were you just enquiring after my health, Smiley?

Realising Brett was busy, Smiley began to apologise. Sorry, Boss. I just wanted to make sure I still had the number one spot and best story, Smiley began to chortle again.

I could use a hundred like you, Smiley.

So, I’m still numero uno? Smiley bubbled, sounding pleased with himself.

A sudden thought crossed Brett’s mind. Have you ever heard of Contention Island, Smiley?

Contention-whoso? Smiley rattled, in the hope Brett would fill in the gaps.

Contention Island, Brett repeated, wondering whether this was going to be a mistake.

Never heard of it. Is this some new national secret? Smiley the investigative journalist was in full snoop mode.

"See what you can find out for me and maybe you will remain numero uno when I get the promotion."

"Leave it with me, Boss. If anyone’s trying to hide anything, I’ll sniff it out."

Thanks, Smiley. Brett returned the phone to its cradle, satisfied if indeed there was anything to Contention Island, Smiley would track it down.

Brett had just picked up the next news item and was checking each sentence diligently when the phone rang again. Feeling under pressure, he sighed and reached for the phone, his tone reflecting the stress. Brett Redden!

Oh, did I get you at a bad time, honey?

Becky! No, sweetheart, I am just getting a bit swamped at the moment. What’s up?

I have a surprise for you tonight and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be late home.

Surprise? What surprise? Brett followed her playful game.

Not till you get home, Becky teased. I’d better let you get back to work.

Okay, I’ll see you tonight, Brett reluctantly put down the phone, closing off the conversation with his pride and joy. She was the only interruption he enjoyed, but after her cryptic call Brett was finding it hard to concentrate, yet almost certain he knew what her news entailed.

It had to be something outstanding for her to call him at work.

*~*~*~*

Checking the dinner table setting for the thirtieth time and satisfied everything was just perfect, Becky glanced up at the kitchen clock and sighed nervously. Brett would be on his way home and his favourite meal, rack of lamb, was teasing the kitchen with its heavenly scent. Adjusting her polished appearance in the loungeroom mirror, she heard their car turn into the parking space under the apartment and after a quick glance at the clock, realised he’d left work early, more than likely anticipating her surprise. Striking a match against its flint, the small flame ignited rapidly and then with the practised hand of a dinner hostess, Becky lit the candles and dimmed the lights. Fluttering with nerves and anticipating her man’s arrival, she quickly took up her place of greeting at the apartment door and waited for their usual cuddle, imagining the expected reaction to her news.

*~*~*~*

Walking up the stairs to their apartment, Brett’s mouth watered as he intercepted the scents of Becky’s exquisite home cooking drifting welcomingly out onto the front stairwell. Before he could thread his key into the lock, the front door burst open and Becky launched herself into his arms, passionately kissing her man for long moments. When she finally wriggled from his embrace, she could see the flame of desire burning in his eyes.

Wow, I hope the mailman doesn’t get this type of treatment.

Only if his name is Brett and he looks exactly like you, With Becky’s face alight with joy, she returned his playfulness and then took hold of his hand and led him inside the apartment.

Okay, shoot! What’s the surprise?

Not so fast, mister. I have your favourite dinner first and then I’ll tell you.

Should I guess? Brett teased.

It won’t do any good. I won’t confess until...

Brett had a fair idea what was coming. He could see the warm glow around Becky and her excitement was infectious, but he wasn’t going to spoil her moment. They played and teased their way through the dinner, Becky bursting for the meal to be done, and as she finally cleared the dirty plates from the table, a sudden thought made her anxious.

What if he isn’t excited about my news?

Brett saw Becky’s childlike face cloud over and the beam diminish. What’s up, honey?

With fear taking the place of joy, she glanced away from his probing eyes, I..I just had a horrible thought that maybe you wouldn’t be so happy with my surprise.

Well, why don’t you just tell me and then we can worry about it then, Brett’s hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

With her face buried in his shoulder, apprehension had taken the place of excitement and she pushed away, stammering as she tried to form the words. I... I... that is, we... are going to be parents. I’m pregnant. Becky searched Brett’s eyes, anxiously probing for any sign of emotion, but his face remained expressionless as he returned her gaze. Then she saw it and almost burst, the telltale twinkle in his eyes, knowing he was trying to hide his excitement, too, and keep her guessing. She squealed with relief as Brett beamed, obviously overjoyed with her news. Can we go and see Mum and Dad tonight and tell them... p-l-e-a-s-e?

Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 4

The short journey from their rented apartment to Becky’s childhood home would take only a few moments, and as she sat in the passenger seat, she admired the contour of Brett’s face. While the car travelled along the darkened suburban road, the streetlights played a game of light and shadow, dancing across his features and accentuating his strong profile. Rebecca Redden loved her man with all her heart, and having his baby was the greatest testament to the depth of her feelings for him. Becky was excited and fulfilled being his wife and wanting to convey that emotion, she reached over and touched his arm, but he flinched and the unexpected movement surprised her.

Sorry, Beck. I was a million miles away, Brett’s face broke into a smile, watching the rosy cheeks of the woman he loved.

Moments later, the lights of the late model, grey Kia Forte turned into a modest middle-class driveway and lit up the front of a neat brick and tile, suburban house. The happy building was a familiar sight for Becky, with her parents living in the modest dwelling all her life and then some. She had so many fond memories of her contented childhood as Becky Forest, the only daughter of Jacob and Emma Forest, living in the small home where the echoes of love over time were ingrained and recorded in the perimeter of its walls. She knew they would be as excited as Brett had been at her news.

The porch light blinked on as Mister Spock barked avidly, announcing their arrival. Her dad had named Becky’s dog, and though the dog was old now, his ears still stood out like the famous Star Trek personality's. Becky had objected at first, but as Spock grew, his features and personality so mimicked the character it just seemed he grew into the name, as well.

Emma stood at the door peering into the night, obviously trying to recognise the occupants of the visiting car over the blinding headlights. As the car lights extinguished, Emma’s face lit up in the warm glow of recognition, grinning with exuberance and accompanied by a wildly waving hand. Soon after, Brett and Becky deserted the Kia and approached the porch light. Becky? Brett? What are you doing out at this time of night? Emma quizzed, engulfing both in an affectionate hug.

Brett smiled and then nodded to Becky.

Got some news, Mum, Becky said proudly, holding Brett’s hand.

Well, come inside and I’ll attempt to wake your father. He’s asleep in front of the television.

As Brett and Becky followed Emma into the lounge and took their seats, Becky glanced affectionately across to her snoring father and his performance competing with the television’s nonsense. Pointing the remote at the TV monitor and silencing its prattle, Emma hoped to quieten the swirling vortex spiralling around her husband’s drainage just as easily.

"Jake...! JACOB!"

Jacob swallowed a snort halfway down his throat and nearly choked on it, sputtering awake in a desperate attempt to re-enter the land of the conscious. Through sleep-laden eyes he struggled to focus, pulling himself into an upright position before erupting into a delighted smile.

Hello, Dad.

Becky?! Brett?! What brings you out at this time of night? Jacob staggered to his feet, meeting his daughter’s hug halfway across the room and then intercepted the vice-like grasp of his favourite son-in-law.

We have some news to tell you and Mum. I... that is, we... are going to have a baby. You are going to be grandparents!

The atmosphere inside the Forest household took on a carnival attitude, everyone talking at once, congratulatory hugs and kisses flying in all directions. Once the excitement abated, Becky and Emma disappeared into the kitchen and prepared a celebratory supper while Brett and Jake sat and talked.

How’s the paper business going, son?

It’s good. I am really enjoying it, Dad. I am hanging my hopes on getting the chief editor's job once he retires in a few weeks and then we should be able to apply for a housing loan to buy a four bedroom house just down the road.

Four bedrooms?! Jake raised his eyebrows.

Beck has her heart set on at least four kids, Brett replied, running his hands through his locks and wondering what he had gotten into.

Mister Spock abruptly jumped to his feet as the two women brought in a tray full of cakes, chocolates and sweet smelling hot coffee. His big tongue slapped from one side of his mouth to the other, watching the treats with keen interest and thinking if he played his wanton eyes correctly, he would be rewarded with a tasty morsel from the tray. As the four adults talked and laughed, slowly devouring the goodies, Mister Spock turned on the charm, entreating each person individually, gaining the desired result and scoring on all four occasions.

The room fell silent for a few moments as coffee lubricated exhilarated tonsils and tastebuds. Glancing sideways at Becky, Brett’s face took on a contemplative expression and filled the void with a question, directing the enquiry toward Emma first and then swept his eyes to include Jacob. Becky’s been having some nightmares again recently. She hasn’t had them for years and now for some reason they’re returning. What do you know of this girl, Katie, and the place called Contention Island? Brett let the question hang and waited for Emma to reply and as he studied the older woman’s expression, Emma’s eyes clouded slightly and she glanced across at Jacob, leaving Brett watching the troubled interlude with the gaze of a newspaper man.

Finally, Emma sighed and then cautiously offered something of what she knew. We aren’t sure what the nightmares mean and yes, they have bothered Becky throughout her life. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to them and even after talking to a number of psychologists about Katie, the best they can come up with is it’s like an imaginary friend, blaming it on Becky being an only child. Emma dropped her hands dejectedly into her lap and surprised Brett as a big tear rolled down her cheek.

Becky reached for her mother’s hand. I know that’s bunkum, Mum. I’ve never needed for anyone, least of all an imaginary friend. I was so happy just being with you two and besides, I had many friends in the neighbourhood.

Troubled by Emma’s distress, Brett was very much aware she’d dealt with the nightmares for many years, too, and had come up with a disturbing blank as to their cause. Feeling a camaraderie with his in-laws and noticing Emma’s crestfallen demeanour, Brett offered an apology, I am sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to open up a nerve. Yet as Brett’s confession tumbled into the conversation, he couldn’t help feeling the intensity of emotion Emma was displaying seemed a little misplaced.

Emma acknowledged Brett with a nod and then sniffed back another tear, stroking her daughter’s face as she kneeled by her side. What was your latest dream, honey? Emma poised herself for more bad news.

Becky closed her eyes, hoping to insulate herself against the scenes and trying to remember the sequence of events in her nightmare. With a sigh that set the depth of anguish for the conversation, Becky whispered, Katie was back on Contention Island, Mum.

Emma whimpered and then tried to conceal her reaction, but the emotion had leaked out before she could stop it and it was noticed.

Becky continued, It was a stormy night and it was raining and blowing hard. She was shivering and crying, searching the breakers.

Emma’s eyes glazed over, staring at the wall, but when she whispered everyone had to strain to hear, Did she see it?

Becky took hold of her mother’s trembling hand again and tried to brace herself to release the words, Yes, Mum, she saw it.

Brett was just about to ask a question when Becky continued, She fainted in the sand, Mum, and he carried her away.

Without warning, Becky’s mother buried her face in her hands and dissolved into trembling sobs. Please, I am not strong enough to hear anymore, Emma pleaded feebly, her shoulders convulsing with the weight of Becky’s declaration.

Bothered by the intuitions of a newspaper man, something began to niggle Brett about Emma’s depth of involvement in Becky’s dreams, but he tried to stifle the suspicion and push down the nagging doubt that Emma knew something and wasn’t coming clean.

Protected in her husband’s embrace and whispering above the fear, Emma gasped in a breath. It isn’t good that Katie’s been back to Contention Island.

The moments went by without conversation as everyone tried to come to terms with the situation, surrounding Emma and while the upsetting images of Katie dissipated, Emma regained her composure and put Brett and Becky at ease.

Thank you for sharing your beautiful news, my darlings, Emma hugged her daughter and son. I am sorry for reacting to the nightmares like this. It was quite a shock.

Sensing it was time to leave and let Emma and