The Key to Anchor Lake ✓

42 : Blaire

This time last year, Mum and I were in Barcelona. She wanted to practise her Spanish, and we'd been in Seattle for three months before that – it was time for a change of weather, switching drizzle for sun. At least, that's what she told me. Now that I know more, perhaps there was another reason she wanted to leave. Maybe her heart had been broken; there was pain to escape.

"Will you ever leave?" I ask, hoping that I'm treading carefully enough that I won't press on a nerve.

"I haven't left in more than sixty years. I doubt now's the time." She brushes crumbs from her top, taking a bite of her toast and covering her mouth as she chews. "Anchor Lake will be the death of me, but that's just how it's supposed to be. This is where I live; this is where I'll die."

My skin prickles, a shiver fizzing down my arms like someone's walking over my grave. "That's a bit maudlin and fatalistic."

She laughs and spreads her hands. "Such is my life."

I watch her for a moment. I'm still trying to weigh up Elizabeth and Betsy, trying to make the scales balance. Some part of me refuses to believe that she has really been through all that, like I can't bear for her to have seen so much tragedy, but I know it's true. It's her life.

"We'll go to New York one day, you and me," I say at last with a definitive nod, decision made. "We'll get on a plane and cross the Atlantic and I'll show you the city that never sleeps."

She chuckles, tearing her toast into pieces. "Over my dead body."

"We'll get there. I went to plenty of cities in Europe before we ever crossed an ocean. Baby steps."

"Which means ... you'll get me to Inverness?"

"Let's aim for Glasgow, at least."

"I'd like to see you try." There's lightness to her voice and a brightness to her face, and it feels so good to have this back and forth, almost like we're bantering. This is what I've craved, and I wrap the moment around myself like a shawl, snuggling into the comfort it brings.

I'll try, I think. I'm going to make every effort.

*

It's been a while since I last saw any of the others, not since I hung out with Cat and Niko in the café, and I'm excited to see them again as I cycle into Anchor Lake – carefully, this time, heeding Sukie's caution. It's a bright day and I can feel the warmth in the air, mere wisps of white cloud trailing in front of the sun. It almost feels like summer, in the middle of May. I'd expect that in London, but not so far north.

We're meeting in Sukie's garden again today, to take advantage of what little heat we get, and I make sure I'm the first to arrive. When I knock on her door, she opens it within seconds and pulls me into a hug, her face buried in my neck.

"Hi," she whispers, pulling away only to kiss me. It's such a novelty, one that still makes me high, and I wish I could stitch these moments into a quilt to keep me warm at night. Reliving the memories will have to do.

Sara comes downstairs, interrupting the moment, and I blush hard but she is unfazed, greeting me with a smile. "I tried my hand at lemonade today, figured we might as well embrace the summer feeling. There are ice lollies in the freezer, too."

"Thanks, Mum," Sukie says, and when her mother's gone, she rolls her eyes. "Sorry. I thought she was in the kitchen."

"It's fine. Unless you didn't want her to know?"

A laugh bursts out of her. "God, Mum's known since before I did. She thought we were already a thing. Apparently I was talking about you like we were already together."