The Key to Anchor Lake ✓

28 : Blaire

 B L A I R E

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When it comes to the copy of The Key to Anchor Lake that I know is in this house somewhere, I haven't got far. To be honest, it has barely crossed my mind. I haven't even listened to a single episode of The Anchor Lakey for the past couple of days, ever since Elizabeth and I sat down and talked at last.

She's been my priority since then. I may not have got any further with any of Sukie's mysteries, but I've made leaps and bounds with my aunt. The book can wait.

When I make it downstairs on Tuesday morning, my mind still reeling after hearing about the cousin I never had a chance to meet, Elizabeth's in the kitchen. The table has been laid and there's a jug in the middle, filled with a bright bouquet that brings sunshine to the dim room.

A cafetiere of coffee is ready and waiting and the toaster pops the moment I enter the room. Elizabeth turns around and greets me with a smile and a bowl of fresh fruit, her expression a complete one-eighty to what I've got used to since moving in. The newfound brightness of her disposition jolts me; so does the thought of something other than toast and marmite for breakfast.

"I went to the shop this morning," she says, setting the fruit down in the middle of the table.

I don't know why that shocks me so much. For some reason, I can't picture her leaving the house, but of course she does – I've only shopped for her a couple of times yet she cooks every night, and she's lived alone for at least twenty years. A girl's gotta eat, and it's not like there are any supermarkets around here willing to deliver.

"That looks amazing." I'm salivating at the thought of fresh crimson strawberries, shiny blackberries, scarlet raspberries.

"I thought we could do with a change." She tucks her hair behind her ears, only half of it twisted into a top knot that knocks ten years odd. "I went to the florist, too. The Greek girl seems to know you?"

"Olga? Yeah, she's part of the book club."

"She seems nice." Elizabeth puts the toast in a rack on the table. "I'm glad you've been making some friends, Blaire. I know it's a bit rich coming from me, but it's good for you. Oh, and she wanted me to give you this."

When she moves to the side, I see a second bunch of flowers in a vase next to the microwave, wrapped in polka dot cellophane and pastel pink paper. Peonies and freesias. There's a note attached, a floral heart on the front and several lines of beautiful, swirling handwriting inside.

Dear Blaire,

I hope everything's okay with you and Elizabeth! We missed you at book club on Monday. Thinking of you! I don't want to swing by and interrupt anything, especially if you two are making progress, so please come to the café when you can! It's so weird not having you around! In the meantime, I hope these brighten up your day.

Lots of love,

Sukie xxx

(P.S. I hope these are the flowers you liked!!)

Welcome back to the lump in my throat, a sudden rush of emotion swaying me. "Olga wanted you to give this to me?" I want to frame Sukie's card. I wish I could bottle up the way it makes me feel. It's a potent drug, heat filling my cheeks and stars filling my eyes.

"Mmhmm. She asked if I was Blaire's aunt and told me I had perfect timing, because she had just put together an order for you." She nods at the flowers. "They're pretty. You ordered them?"

"They're from Sukie." I cradle the bunch, inspecting the stunning assortment of pinks and purples and whites and greens. I don't know anything about the language of flowers, but this seems positive. It certainly makes me feel positive.