Page 129 of High Season
This solves everything.
So Blake did not move.
He simply stood and watched as the blue water turned a strange, pale shade of red.
At the start of Blake’s life, he had had thirteen minutes without his sister. Thirteen small, precious minutes alone. And then, kicking and screaming, there she had been.
As the life bleeds out of his sister, Blake thinks about the next thirteen minutes, and the next. He thinks about an entire existence made up of thirteen-minute increments. An entire life stretching out ahead of him, without Tamara.
He feels something give then, like a muscle snapping in his chest. An overwhelming feeling that he doesn’t recognize flooding through him. A sensation that he has only experienced once before, for exactly thirteen minutes.
The feeling that he is entirely alone.
This is when Blake knows that she is gone. When he knows that his sister is beyond saving. When he finally understands that his sister was right about the magic that existed between them.
This is when Blake knows that he has made the biggest mistake of his life.
FORTY-NINE
2004
THE DAY OF THE BIRTHDAY PARTY
Hannah felt as if she had been asleep for a very long time.
A wave of nausea washed over her as she tried to sit up. There was a sear of pain in her skull, worse than any hangover she’d ever experienced. The room was dark, and yet she could make out the strains of music. Talking. Laughter. She fought to recall where she was. The memories came back in hazy, half formations, like glints of light falling through the branches of trees sifting in the breeze. There and then gone. There and then gone.
Evelyn’s party. Champagne. Blake. Evelyn’s bed.
Her stomach turned over. She fumbled for a light switch, her hand hitting a lamp. The room flushed bright. She was in Tamara’s bed, tucked beneath the sheets. A wash of panic seized her. Hours must have passed. She had never been so drunk before that she couldn’t remember how she got somewhere. She had heard people talk about being blackout drunk like it was a badge of honor. Nothing like the fear and shame that hummed through her now.
She clambered to her feet. Closed her eyes as the world spun. She must have still been drunk, and yet this was like no kind of drunkenness she had ever experienced. Like being drunk and hungover at the same time. She grimaced as she imagined what must have happened:drinking too much, trying to calm herself after her confrontation with Tamara. She must have passed out, forcing Blake to put her to bed. The thought made embarrassment unfurl inside her.
It felt vitally important to find Blake. She had to apologize. She had to pull herself together, to show him that she could be the girlfriend he wanted. The room swayed as she crossed it. First, she would get some water. She would be fine after some water.
She remembered that they’d been drinking in Evelyn’s bedroom. There would still be glasses in there. There was an en suite bathroom where she could fill them up. She could gather herself there, away from any of the other party guests.
She navigated deeper into the labyrinthine house that Hannah knew as well as her family’s own small flat. In a way, it felt as much a part of her legacy as it did the Draytons’.
She pushed against the door to Evelyn’s room. Into the dressing room, and then to the main bedroom. The room was thick with heat, the patio doors that led out to the terrace left wide open. Evelyn would be annoyed, blaming everyone else for her own oversight, for forgetting, as she got ready for the party, to shut out the stifling air.
Instinctively, just like someone who had been raised serving people like the Draytons, Hannah moved to close the doors, and there he was. Blake. Her Blake. Silhouetted against the white light of the moon and standing alone, on the very edge of the terrace. A wave of emotion passed through Hannah. Something like relief. Something like love.
She began to walk toward him.
“Blake—”
Then, she stopped. Blake was not looking up toward the stars, or out to the sea. His gaze was fixed downward. His head lifted and Hannah knew immediately that something was wrong. She could see the twist of his face, the sheen of shock. The way that his eyes were wide and full of fear.
“Hannah,” he said.
Her eyes followed his. Toward the water. The pool. A bloom of red against the unnatural blue of the tiles. A body, floating, arms outstretched. Like someone ready to leap. To fly.
A wave of nausea contorted inside her, and for a moment she thoughtshe would vomit. Her hands flew up to her mouth. Blake was gripping her wrist, pulling her back from the edge.
“Don’t scream,” he said. “Please don’t scream.”
“It’s Tamara,” she said, uselessly. As if he wouldn’t know. As if he wouldn’t recognize his own twin.
