At the time, I thought it was the worst day of my life. As I closed the door behind me for the last time, I had no idea what the future would hold for me.

‘What am I going to do?’ I asked Adam. We had had this conversation many times over in the last months of our shift. The lighthouse that I had tended for twenty three years was to be made automatic. Keepers were not needed any more. His answer was always the same.

‘Something will come up.’

‘It’s alright for you,’ I said. ‘You’re only 29. You’re going back to your studies. I’m nearly twice your age. Too old for studying. Who’s going to employ an old lighthouse keeper?’

‘Something will come up,’ he replied. ‘You’ll see.’ He pointed to a small boat approaching. ‘John’s here. Time to go. Come on.’

I wished a storm would blow in from the Atlantic. I wished John’s boat wouldn’t reach us. I wished I could stay at the lighthouse forever. But within three hours that life was far behind me, and I was unlocking the front door to the rented cottage where I spent my time between my shifts offshore. Adam had waved me goodbye and I was alone.

There was nothing in my fridge and the cupboards were mostly empty. I decided to brave a meal at The Mermaid. I knew the food would be OK but the noise in the bar always deafened me for my first few visits - so loud after the quietness of the lighthouse. Sid, the landlord, welcomed me with his usual greeting.

‘Ahoy there Captain Birdseye! Home forever this time I hear. Not needed any more!’

‘Don’t rub it in Sid,’ I said, scratching my beard. He put a pint in front of me.

‘On the house,’ he said. ‘Something will come up.’

I took my pint into the quietest corner I could find. Everyone says ‘Something will come up.’ How do they know? Have they got a crystal ball or second sight? It was definitely the worst day of my life.

A year has gone by since then. A miserable year. I’ve had ten different jobs around the town – all boring; all in loud crowded places. I couldn’t stick any of them for more than a couple of weeks. Pay days came and went. I shaved off my whiskers – so no more Captain Birdseye. It made me look younger but it didn’t feel right.

Last Wednesday Adam turned up on my doorstep.

‘Come in,’ I said, glad to see my old workmate. ‘What brings you back to these parts? I thought you were studying up north somewhere doing marine engineering.’

‘I’ve finished that. I’m here for an interview tomorrow up at the lifeboat station. Keeping the old boat going, that’ll be the job.’

We went to The Mermaid to eat and talk about ‘old times’. He laughed at my lack of beard – said he’d never seen my chin before! And he laughed even more when I told him about my awful jobs.

‘Something will come up,’ he said. ‘You just have to be patient.’

We agreed to meet at the pub the next evening after his interview. I shook his hand and wished him luck. I was sure he would be offered the job.

When we met I could tell by his smiles that my judgement had been right. He was due to start at the lifeboat station at the beginning of next month.

‘Good for you,’ I said. ‘That’s worth celebrating with a couple of pints. And I’ll buy you a fish and chip supper. Well done.’

‘I’ve put in a word for you with the coxswain,’ he said as the platefuls of food arrived.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘About a job.’

‘A job? Now what can I do on a lifeboat at my age?’

‘Not on the boat. They’re opening a shop up there and they need someone to run it. Someone who looks ‘nautical’! So I told them Captain Birdseye was looking for a job and they said to tell you to come over if you were interested. I told you something would come up,’ he said and raised his glass to mine. ‘Cheers, mate.’

I rubbed my chin. The beard would have to regrow quickly.

‘Cheers, mate. You were right - even if it’s taken a year to happen.’