Every evening, as the sun dipped behind the headland, Nina climbed the one hundred and forty-three steps to the top of the Wattle Point lighthouse. Her grandmother had once kept this light, and now Nina was learning the routine herself during the long summer holidays. The lighthouse stood like a tall white sentinel above the rocky coast. From its narrow balcony, Nina could see the whole sweep of the bay, where the water changed colour through the day — silver at dawn, deep blue by noon, and a soft golden brown when the light began to fade. She loved this hour best of all. Keeping the light was not as simple as flicking a switch. The great lamp had to be cleaned, its brass fittings polished until they gleamed, and the wide glass lens wiped free of salt spray. Nina worked carefully, remembering her grandmother's favourite saying: "A clean light is a kind light." Sailors far out at sea depended on that steady beam to find the safe channel between the reefs. One windy evening, a thick fog rolled in from the ocean. The headland disappeared, and even the rocks below the lighthouse faded into grey. Nina felt a flutter of worry. Without the beam, a fishing boat returning late might lose its way among the hidden rocks. She checked the lamp twice, made certain the lens was spotless, and watched the beam cut a bright path through the murk. Hours passed. Nina stayed at her post, listening to the wind hum against the glass. Then, faintly, she heard it — the steady chug of an engine. A small trawler was nosing its way home, guided by the golden sweep of the Wattle Point light. The skipper gave three short blasts of his horn, a cheerful greeting carried up on the breeze. Nina grinned and waved, though she knew the skipper could not see her. The fog began to thin, and the first stars appeared above the bay. She felt a quiet pride settle over her. The lighthouse was old, and the work was unglamorous, but tonight it had done exactly what it was built to do. As she descended the winding stairs, Nina thought about her grandmother and all the keepers before her. She was part of something steady and important — a light that had guided travellers safely home for more than a hundred years, and would keep on shining long after this summer ended.