The Key to Anchor Lake ✓

41 : Blaire

B L A I R E

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"Blaire?"

I open my eyes. Someone's knocking on my door but I'm disorientated. I don't have any idea what time it is, my brain foggy.

"Blaire, darling. Can I come in?"

It's Elizabeth's voice. She's never called me darling before. Am I dreaming?

"Okay," I call, my voice hoarse. The door creeks open. Elizabeth comes in like a nervous cat, holding onto the edge. She's not wearing her apron; she's in a loose knitted smock that somehow draws more attention to the jut of her clavicles, and her paint-free face.

"Morning," she says. "Did you sleep all right?"

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"Quite a while," she says, flicking her wrist to check her watch. "It's just past eight now. So ... nearly twelve hours."

I'm not even in pyjamas. I recall crashing into bed now, so drained after our conversation that I excused myself to my room and I dropped into my bed, and I cried until I couldn't lift my head anymore.

She comes further into the room and gingerly sits on the edge of my bed, placing a cautious hand on my arm. "Sukie's here. She's downstairs."

"Sukie? Here? Now?"

Elizabeth nods. "She said that she's been texting and calling you and you haven't answered. She was worried." There's a hint of a smile on her lips, like we're in on a joke together. "Did you, by any chance, share with her your fear that I wanted to kill you?"

Oh, no. Blood rushes to my cheeks and I don't need a mirror to know they're a blotchy, angry shade of red. "I—"

"It's okay," she says, squeezing my elbow. "I told her we had a long, exhausting talk, and that you went straight to bed, and that I would come and see if you're in a state to see her. Do you want to? Or would you rather I send her away?"

"I'll see her. I want to see her."

"Okay. I'll put the kettle on." She leaves as quietly as she arrived, and I scoop my tangled hair into a ponytail, stopping only to brush my teeth on the way downstairs. Elizabeth passes me as I jog down the steps and says, "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"Okay." I stop on the fifth step, wringing my wrists. "Can I bring Sukie up? To explain?"

Elizabeth pauses for a moment. I see a flicker of fear cross her eyes.

"Never mind. Forget it," I say.

"No, it's okay." Another long pause; I can almost hear her weighing things up in her mind. "You can bring her up."

"Are you sure?"

She nods and passes me, her fingers brushing my shoulder. "Blaire?"

"Mmm?"

"I understand that the book has become her project," she says, "but please remember that it's my life. I never intended for it to be a spectacle."

Her gaze holds mine, blue eyes piercing, and I feel we've reached the place we need to be. A level of understanding, of unity. If our past is anything to go by, from here on out it's me and Elizabeth against the world.

Sukie's in the kitchen, sitting at the table and picking at her nails. She whips around when she hears me, lurching from her seat and tackling me with a tight hug that almost knocks me over.

"Hi," I say when I can breathe again.

"You scared me so much!" she cries out.

"I'm sorry, Sukie."