B L A I R E
•
I've barely slept since I crept back to my room after Elizabeth left me downstairs. My heart has been pounding since sometime between one and two a.m., my thoughts too full to contemplate resting my head on my pillow and falling back to sleep, so I have spent the past six hours tossing and turning and trying to lose myself in Sukie's and Oli's voices.
But it's harder know, knowing that Oli's gone and that somewhere down the hall, Elizabeth has the one thing I need.
I need that book.
I also need to get out of this house. I can't bear to sleep under this roof for another night, can't bear the idea of another string of exhausted hours when I can't relax, and as soon as it hits eight o'clock, I throw on fresh leggings and a clean top and I leave.
The sun rose a couple of hours ago, but it might as well have stayed in bed because the sky is a dingy, cloudy grey, and there's a mean chill in the air that whips through my bones as I cycle down that long road to town. When a car overtakes me, I'm convinced it's Elizabeth, that she's going to slam on her brakes and force me home, but the muddy truck sails on by.
When a car veers over the lines as it barrels towards me, I hold my breath and wait to be struck, flung over the handlebars and down the rocky verge. The bike wobbles, but I maintain balance and let out a ragged breath, vowing to learn how to drive and get a car. If I'm going to be stuck in Anchor Lake for much longer, I'm going to need a way to escape every now and then.
When I reach the café, it's still in those sleepy early-morning minutes of having just opened, and I'm the first customer through the door ten minutes after it's unlocked. I'm out of breath and my hair's a wild mess, the wind wreaking havoc on already tangled tresses, and the moment I collapse onto a chair to compose myself before I order, Sukie's right in front of me.
"Blaire? Are you okay?" She crouches down next to me, one hand on my arm and the other on my cheek. "Did something happen?"
"I have a bad feeling about Elizabeth." My words come out strangled and gravelly. I desperately need a drink, and eight hours of sleep.
"What do you mean?" Sukie asks, then stands and pulls my elbow. "Wait, come over here."
She leads me back to the table we sat at last time I came here, tucked into a corner away from the prying eyes and ears of whoever else might rock up this early, and she plants me on a stool.
"First of all, are you okay? Because no offense, but you don't look okay." She scoots a second stool over, wooden feet whining against the floor.
"I haven't slept much," I admit, "but I'm fine."
"Do you want to talk first? Or do you want me to get you a drink first? I know both of those things are gonna happen so the order's up to you."
"Um. Coffee, I think. Sorry, Sukie."
"Sorry for what?" She slips off her seat and round to the other side of the counter, taking the cash I slide across the table. "It's literally my job as a barista to make coffee, and it's my job as your friend to understand why you're upset."
How is she so freaking nice? I don't know what I did to deserve her, what magic must have been at play to make her take the slightest interest when I spewed word vomit at her the first time we met, but already I can't bear to let go of her.
She's swift at the machine and it isn't long before she plants a vanilla latte in front of me and hops onto her stool.
"Talk to me, Blaire." She tucks her hair behind her ears, exposing earrings in the shape of tiny glittering suns. "Did you and Elizabeth fight or something?"
I shake my head but I don't even know if that's the right answer. "I'm not sure."
"Why do you have a bad feeling about her?"
"I woke up at one and went downstairs and she was reading a copy of The Key to Anchor Lake and writing in it"—Sukie gasps at that, abject horror filling her face—"and I asked if I could borrow it, and she got all weird."
Sukie holds up a hand and says, "Wait, the library's copy of the book? She was writing in it?"
"That's the weird thing. She said it's her own copy. She said it came with the house."
"Oh."
"And I know she bought the house in 2000."
Sukie's eyes widen. "The year the book turned up?"
"Yeah. Exactly." I pull my sleeves over my hands and wrap my fingers around my hot mug, leaning so close to the froth that the rising heat burns my eyes.
"So..." Sukie trails off and I can see her doing all her working out in her head; I can practically see the cogs turning as she thinks it over.
"I think Mary Nesbitt lived in my house before Elizabeth," I say, nodding to myself. "I think it's Mary's copy of the book."
"Oh, shit." Both hands are cupped around her mouth, her huge eyes a hundred shades of brown under the warm café lights. "Oh my god, Blaire, that's huge!"
"Potentially." I shudder, cold despite the blasting heat in here. Maybe I'm coming down with something. Or it's just the town and my aunt, giving me the creeps.
"But ... what were you saying before? Elizabeth was acting weird?"
She keeps glancing at the door like she's praying no-one will come in. I am too; I need to get this off my chest and in a matter of days, Sukie has become the person I want to share things with.
"Really weird." The first sip of latte is sweet and creamy and I can feel the heat sliding down my gullet to settle in my stomach, warming me from the inside out. "Thank you for this."
"Weird how?" she asks, edging closer to me like it'll ease the story out faster.
"I asked if I could read and it and she said no; she said it's too dark and it'll upset me, so I said I listen to your podcast anyway. She said it's not a healthy way to cope with Mum's death and that if I read the book, I'll want to leave town."
Sukie huffs and frowns. "Is there a chance she's just being overprotective?"
I snort. "I doubt it. She said she wants to protect me, but nothing else she does is remotely protective. We literally go days without seeing each other and we live in the same fucking house!"
She winces. Less at the word, I think, than the context.
"She said it's bad for me, and she doesn't want me drowning in other people's sorrow, but if she actually gave the slightest shit about my sorrow then maybe she would make the effort to be around me, or at least not accuse me of fucking drowning myself." My teeth grate together, fingernails digging deep crescents into my palms until I have to forcibly unclench my fists.
Sukie's soft hand closes over the top of mine as she says, "I don't know enough about Elizabeth to know whether or not she is actually looking out for you or not, b—"
"She's not looking out for me," I interrupt, my tone harsher than I mean it to me. Sukie pauses a moment before she continues.
"But, I do know you need to get that book." There's a fervour in her voice and her eyes, a depth to her energy. "If there's even the slightest chance it ever belonged to Mary, if there's the tiniest possibility that she lived in your house, that might be the break we need."
I nod in agreement, my head bobbing of its own accord. Sukie's leaning so close to me that I can smell a hint of lightly floral perfume beneath the overpowering aroma of coffee and baking.
"I'll try."
"Do your best." She squeezes my hand and pulls away, but she doesn't leave my side. There's no-one for her to serve, no-one pulling her attention away from me, and she could easily leave to get back to her job but she doesn't. She stays right here.
We let the quiet settle around us for a few moments, until I break it.
"How're you doing? How's the baby?" My eyes drop to her stomach, blocked by the table.
"Baby and me are pretty good," she says, relaxing into an easy smile. "Still pretty surreal, the whole growing a human thing, but I'm getting used to it. Slowly." Putting her hands to her cheeks, she says, "You know what, I think pregnancy's a good look on me."
"I couldn't even tell." I still can't, even now that I know she's five months along, and it's even harder to believe. Every time I stop to think about Oli, and how far he's plummeted in my estimations, my heart hurts a little more. "You look amazing."
"My face has rounded out a bit," she says, smushing her cheeks and pursing her lips. "And my boobs have, like, exploded. If I hadn't missed two periods in a row then I definitely would have figured it out when I went from an A to a C."
I wish she hadn't mentioned her boobs; my eyes drop automatically to check and a shameful blush creeps up my neck, tinging my cheeks blotchy red. Today she's switched her oversized jumper for a loose, scoop-neck t-shirt and without her apron, I catch a flash of black bra when she leans forwards.
"Do you know what you're having?" I ask, partly to distract myself.
"No. I don't want to know," she says, resting her elbow on the table and planting her chin in her palm. "Not like it matters. I mean, regardless of what the sex doctor decides the baby is when I somehow get it out of me – and we're not going to talk about that, because I'm scared shitless about actually having to birth this baby – I already have the name picked out."
"You do?"
"Yup! That was, like, the first thing I knew, right after I knew I was keeping it. It was like, news flash, this baby is gonna be called Kieran."
The name rings a bell, snagging on a memory that clarifies over the course of a few seconds. "Oh, that was your brother's name, right?"
She nods, one hand going to her stomach. "It feels right. And Kieran's a solid name for every gender, I reckon."
"Absolutely. I love it," I murmur, imagining Sukie holding a baby that's half her, half Oli, and I wonder if he'll step up once he's a father.
"If you're still here in September, you'll be enlisted to babysit," she says.
"I don't think I'm going anywhere." I laugh in the face of the hopelessness of my situation. I don't see a way out any time soon, but the more time I spend with Sukie, the less that seems like a problem.
"Perfect. I've already enlisted Niko, Cat, and Olga. And Mum, of course. She's so excited to be a grandma, though I think she's secretly worried the baby's gonna come out looking like Oli."
"What, is he ugly?" The words come out before I can filter them. Luckily Sukie laughs.
"No, he's cute – pains me to say that when he's been such a wanker, but, I mean, I did sleep with him. He's just very white."
"I relate."
She laughs again. Her eyes crinkle and her nose wrinkles and she is so fucking adorable, it actually hurts. Adorable and accommodating and way out of my league.
"No, he's way whiter than you," she says.
I look down at my arms, still slightly olive-tanned after Italy. Mum and I spent two weeks there for her sixty-fifth, sunning ourselves in Sicily. We'd only been back for four days when she died.
Sukie digs out her phone and scrolls back for a while to find a picture of the two of them. They're standing with their arms around each other, cheeks pressed together, and I see what she means. He's pale. Like, Chalamet levels of pasty.
"Mum can't talk, though, seeing as Dad looks like a fucking drumstick."
I frown. "Like ... chicken?"
Sukie barks a laugh. "Oh my god, no. Like the sweet. The lolly. White and pink all over." Her laugh lingers as she goes back years in her photos and finds one of her with both of her parents. She looks significantly younger, with a girlish face and braces, and I see what she means. "I haven't met his new kid yet, but I saw some pictures from her second birthday and the poor thing looks like a ghost."
I can't help a burst of laughter. It's refreshing to let loose, even though I almost spill my latte down my front. Sukie beams like she's just accomplished a job well done, and she stands when the door chimes with a new customer – Regina Hart, the librarian, who waves and smiles at us.
"I'll be back," Sukie says, her hand lingering on my elbow. "By the way, if you're uncomfortable staying with your aunt, then you're totally welcome at mine. If you want to stay the night, just let me know."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course!" she cries, pulling on her apron and scooping her hair into a messy bun. "Just let me know by nine p.m., 'cause I'll be asleep after that. Though Mum'll be up until, like, one in the morning, and she'll always let you in."
Elizabeth could take a few tips from Sukie and her mum when it comes to hospitality. They've known me for a fraction of the time and we aren't even related, and already I feel like I've been welcomed into the fold of their family.
"Thanks, Sukie. You're an actual angel."
She beams and blows me a kiss, and it lights a flame in the cracked shell of my heart. I'm going to be okay, I think, and I realise it's the first time since I got here that the thought has struck.
*