21st June 2019
THE ANCHOR LAKEY: Episode 141
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There is no intro. After several seconds of dead air, the episode launches straight into Sukie's voice.
SUKIE:
This was supposed to be over.
I thought I had recorded the final episode of The Anchor Lakey, when I interviewed Elizabeth Wickham last month. I didn't think anything else needed to be said. We learnt the truth. We had closure. This was over.
And then, on the 24th of May, exactly four weeks ago, I got a call.
It was five o'clock in the morning. I was sitting on the jetty at Anchor Lake, waiting for my girlfriend to turn up for our first date, and my phone started ringing. It was her. I thought she was going to tell me she'd slept in, or she was running a bit late, or something had come up. Honestly, I was prepared to be annoyed - we'd been talking about it all week.
I never thought I would hear her dying.
It sounded like a pocket dial, at first. I couldn't hear anything, and I figured she'd sat on her phone while she was cycling. I so nearly hung up, but something told me not to. I don't know what. I just knew that I couldn't end the call, not until I heard her voice.
And then I heard it. I heard her cry; I heard her splutter and wheeze and try to say a name. And I heard him.
I can't say his name. But you all know which sick fuck I'm talking about. The one who should rot in a cell for the rest of his life. Why he wasn't locked up immediately, I have no fucking clue. He—
[Sukie breaks off when she starts to cry]
Sorry, I...
Hold on.
[Long pause as Sukie tries to compose herself]
I started this podcast for fun. It was a way to connect people. To make friends, and to explore the history of our town. It was something interesting, something different to do.
If I had ever known that it could cause someone to get so radicalised by their own theory that they plot a mur—
[Sukie chokes]
It's my fault. I started this. I got Blaire dragged into this, long before either of us realised how tangled up in Anchor Lake she already was.
I'm so sorry, Blaire.
I'm so sorry.
I love you.
I love you so much.
[There's a lot of rustling in the background, and Sukie sniffles as she cries]
BLAIRE:
I love you too, Sukie.
None of this was your fault. The fact that you could even think that, it ... god, that ruins me.
SUKIE:
If it wasn't for me, yo—
BLAIRE:
You saved me, Sukie.
You saved me when I first came to Anchor Lake, and you saved me when I was so close to leaving for good.
SUKIE:
Dying.
BLAIRE:
Yes. You literally saved my life. God, I don't know how. I don't really remember that day. I remember this bright light when I was hit, and then there's this vast emptiness until I woke up in a different month. I don't remember anything in between.
SUKIE:
I do.
I got the call, and I waited, and I knew. I heard his voice, I heard what he said, and I knew he was going to kill you. I realised you weren't sleeping, you weren't late. You were struggling to breathe; you were dying.
It's a bit of a blur, everything that happened next. I called 999 and I called Elizabeth, and I drove the only way that you could have been coming, and I found you.
I thought you were dead.
You looked dead.
BLAIRE:
I still feel a bit dead.
SUKIE:
I still don't know how you survived.
[She starts to cry. Blaire comforts her]
BLAIRE:
I knew I couldn't die. Not with you thinking I'd stood you up. That would've killed me.
[She laughs]
SUKIE:
Not funny, Blaire. That's so not funny.
BLAIRE:
I've been stuck in a hospital bed for twenty-eight days. I've had, what, five surgeries?
SUKIE:
Seven.
BLAIRE:
Seven surgeries. Shit. Okay.
I lost a full week of my life to a medically induced coma. I've been poked and prodded by every doctor and nurse multiple times a day for three weeks. I've had at least two panic attacks while trapped inside an MRI machine; I can barely walk more than five steps at a time and I'm still trying to figure out how to hold a pen.
There's not much to laugh about. I know it's not funny, but I need to laugh.
SUKIE:
If you couldn't tell, it's a miracle that Blaire's alive.
BLAIRE:
I'm a fighter. I had to fight. I wasn't ready to die. Not without meeting your baby.
[Sukie lets out a tired chuckle]
SUKIE:
Ten weeks to go.
BLAIRE:
Plenty of time for me to recover.
[She yawns]
I swear all I do at the moment is sleep, and I'm still so tired all the time.
SUKIE:
That's your body telling you to rest. You're supposed to be recovering.
Today's Blaire's first day back from the hospital. Mum and I have spent the past month helping Elizabeth convert the sitting room – that's where we're recording right now.
I wanted to do this earlier, but I couldn't bring myself to. Not without Blaire. Not until she was home.
BLAIRE:
And here I am. Home, sweet home.
SUKIE:
Right where you belong.
God, I've missed you so much.
[She cries; the sound muffles when Blaire hugs her]
BLAIRE:
I promise you, I missed you more. I didn't realise how boring hospitals are. When you're not drugged out of your mind or unconscious on an operating table, there's really not much going on except dull pain and waiting for you to come back.
SUKIE:
Shoutout to Elizabeth, for basically letting me live with her while she was going back and forth to the hospital every day.
BLAIRE:
I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't been able to see you both. You know what's terrifying?
SUKIE:
Considering I've never been as terrified as I have been virtually every day for the last four weeks, yes.
[Blaire laughs and groans. There's a rustle as she searches for water and pain medication]
BLAIRE:
What's really terrifying, something I never thought I'd learn, is waking up alone in a hospital room, unable to move, and finding out from a nurse, a total stranger, that you've had brain surgery. It's terrifying to look in the mirror and not even recognise that you're looking at yourself.
It's terrifying to lie alone for hours, trying not to cry because that makes everything hurt so much more, waiting until morning to see your aunt for the first time in over a week.
Until I saw Elizabeth, I thought there was a chance it was a dream. Some trippy, hyper-realistic dream. And then she came to see me as soon as she was allowed to after I woke up, and she broke down.
That terrified me.
That made it real.
Seeing you made it real.
Hearing the news ... that made it real. Reading about my own attack scared the shit out of me.
[She starts to cry]
SUKIE:
Blaire, I'm so sorry. This was a bad idea. We don't need to do this. We can stop recording. This was stupid. You're still recovering. You should sleep. I'll go ho—
BLAIRE:
No!
Please don't go, Sukie.
Please don't leave me.
SUKIE:
Okay.
Okay, it's okay. I'm here.
I'm not going anywhere. Actually, I'm going to get you a drink. Water?
BLAIRE:
Please.
SUKIE:
I'll be right back.
[Short pause]
BLAIRE:
Hi, um, whoever's listening.
I don't know what I did to deserve Sukie.
She's amazing.
She's ... everything.
I remember one of the doctors telling me that I could have lost some of my short-term memories, from the attack and the surgery, and I remember being so scared that I'd forget Sukie. I'd only known her for a few weeks before that.
I cried. The doctor was confused, I think, until I managed to explain myself, and he laughed. He said that if I already remembered her, then there was no damage. My memories would be fine. I cried more and begged to see Sukie. I was so scared that somehow, she'd turn up and I'd forget her.
How could I? She's unforgettable.
I love her so much. There have been a lot of times over the past month that I've thought there was no future for me. I thought I was going to die when I woke up.
God, I really thought I was going to die when I was rushed back into theatre for a second brain surgery, hours after the first. But every time I lost faith, I thought of Sukie.
I do have one memory from the attack. I remember that first moment, when I was lying on the ground, aware that I was in pain, aware that something seriously bad had happened. And all I could think of was her.
She has kept me going. I want a future with her. My future is her.
She's—
Hi.
SUKIE:
Were you talking to yourself?
BLAIRE:
No. To the recorder.
SUKIE:
What'd I miss?
BLAIRE:
You'll see.
[Sukie coos; they kiss]
SUKIE:
Here. Drink this. All of it.
Sorry, folks. I wanted to record this final episode as proper closure. When Blaire was attacked, when she almost died because of her involvement in this town's past – involvement she can't help; she can't change her genes – I couldn't let this go.
The obsession has to stop.
What happened is ... god, it's abominable. Unthinkable. And the person responsible – he will pay. Justice will be served, and he will pay for what he did. I hope. I really hope.
BLAIRE:
It's going to be okay.
You know what matters most?
I'm okay. You're okay. Elizabeth is okay.
And one perk of almost dying—
SUKIE:
Blaire! Oh my god, please don't say that.
BLAIRE:
It's true! There are perks. And one perk of almost dying is that it gave me pretty good leverage to convince my aunt to come to New York with me, when she has literally never left Anchor Lake.
Hopefully I'll be in better shape in six weeks, because that's when Elizabeth and I are hopping on a plane from Glasgow to JFK. Two whole weeks in Manhattan.
SUKIE:
And if everything goes to plan, then I'll be very pregnant when you get back.
BLAIRE:
No having that baby while I'm away, okay?
[Sukie laughs]
SUKIE:
I promise to try not to give birth, but I'm also not too sure how much control I have over the whole situation.
BLAIRE:
You keep cooking that baby; I'll show my aunt the wonders of the world outside of Anchor Lake, and one day, I'll take you too. Give it ten years or so, once Lil Kiki's old enough to enjoy my favourite city.
SUKIE:
Lil Kiki?
BLAIRE:
If there's one thing I've learnt, it's that no-one in this place goes by their real names, Suzanna, so it's only right that Kieran will be born with a ready-made nickname.
[Sukie laughs. Blaire does too, tiredly. There's a short pause]
I think I need to take a nap. I can hardly keep my eyes open.
SUKIE:
Okay.
BLAIRE:
You can keep going. I'm just going to close my eyes.
SUKIE:
I can go to another room to finish this up.
BLAIRE:
No, don't. I need your voice. Keep talking.
SUKIE:
Okay.
I'm not going to sing a lullaby, though.
I'm just going to say that we are moving on.
[She pauses for a few moments]
The Key to Anchor Lake has taken up so much of my life. It almost took Blaire's. This town, this family, they have already lost so much, and I am going to do whatever I can to protect them.
Blaire is my girlfriend, and I love her more than I can say.
Elizabeth has become a second mother to me, these last few weeks. I think I might have spent more time with her than with my own mother this month: she has needed support. We all have. It's been a horrendous month.
But things are looking up.
Blaire is going to be okay.
The person who put her in this position is going to rot.
I have loved The Anchor Lakey. This project was my baby. But soon, I'm going to have an actual baby, so this has to end. Its time is up.
And all of us are relinquishing The Key to Anchor Lake. It isn't in the library anymore. One of the first things I did, once I knew Blaire was going to be all right – and that has been a touch and go journey – was go to the library and check out the book.
There were only two copies left in the world – the one in the library, and Elizabeth's.
Elizabeth still has hers. The library's is gone. I told Regina what had happened and I explained what I needed to do, and she agreed. I won't lie, it was hard. It was so hard, when that book was so formative for me. It gave me the friends I have. It gave me Blaire. But it almost took her away, too.
So Elizabeth and I got in a boat and we took it to the middle of the lake. We tore out every page and we scattered them in the water, and we waited until the paper was unsalvageable, until it disintegrated in Anchor Lake.
Nobody needs that story but her. It's hers, and hers alone. She wrote it. She lived it.
It doesn't belong to anybody else.
So this is the end.
Thank you for listening.
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