middle of Cathy’s attack, not knowing if an hour later we’d still be alive. That letter meant so much to her. Music means so much to her.
Sometimes, as I sit still and hidden in her garden, I build a little world in my head. A world with no Surari, no Secret Families, no Gamekeepers. A world where Sarah and I meet like two normal people – a doctor and a cellist – somewhere in the world, here in Edinburgh, or Christchurch, or Tokyo, who cares? Anywhere in the world where we can be ourselves.
Just Sarah and Sean, no lies, no secrets.
I might as well try and get some rest. I force myself to lie on my bed, trying without success to invoke sleep. Out of the window I can see the top of the pines, swaying in the breeze against the milky sky, and wonder if it’s going to snow soon.
“Hello.” Elodie’s face, framed by her blonde hair, appears in the doorway.
I sit up, propping myself against the pillows. “You’re awake. Enjoyed your nap?”
She crosses the room to sit beside me, her footsteps silent on the dusty floor. She smells fresh, of shampoo and mint shower gel. She’s wearing clean clothes too, a white top and jeans – she loves wearing light colours, she always has. Her hair is hanging in long damp strands. She looks better than when she first arrived. Her face is not as tired, not as lined, but there’s still a pallor, a frailty about her that used to not be there.
“I had a dream.”
“An attack?” I ask, alarmed.
“Not exactly. It’s strange. I dreamt of a woman, a girl with silver hair. She was swimming in the sea. I was in the sea too, the water came up to my neck.” She touches her white throat with her fingers. “And then a wave came, a weird wave that seemed to have … arms. Out to get me.” She trembles for a second. “The wave took me under, but the woman with the silver hair saved me. She held my head out of the water and took me to shore.”
“Do you have an idea of who she was?”
“I’ll find out sooner or later, I suppose. You can’t sleep?” Elodie asks, but she knows the answer.
“You know me.” I rub my forehead.
“Yes. I remember the way you were in Japan. I don’t know how you keep going on no sleep.”
“I don’t know either.”
“Harry always said he only slept when he was happy.”
“No chance for me, then!” I try to smile, but it’s more like a grimace.
“Why don’t I sit here with you, and you can give it another try?”
Elodie walks over and perches herself on the windowsill, hugging her knees. An invisible hand squeezes my heart – Sarah loves doing that, sitting on her windowsill looking out to her garden, wrapped in that white jumper she has.
I’m about to tell Elodie that there’s no point, I’m awake, it’s not going to happen, but I’m tired, so tired, and my eyelids start feeling heavy. Elodie’s profile looks exquisite, nearly angelic against the white sky and the black, swaying trees. She’s humming a tune under her breath, a slow, soft song I’ve never heard before, sweet as a lullaby. I feel myself relax …and then my heart flutters, my limbs tense up in sudden alarm – they don’t want to let go, they don’t want to give into sleep.
But I haven’t rested for so long, and Elodie’s voice is cradling me. Before I know it, I drift away with it. At last.
I wake as gently as I fell asleep, without the usual jolt of panic. My mind goes straight to the first thought I always have when I awake – where’s my sgian-dubh? I check – it’s on my bedside table.
Next, as ever, is a thought of Sarah. I need to see Sarah.
“Ça va?”
I rub my face with my hands. Elodie is sitting on my bed. I notice her fingers curled around her silver star necklace – the one Harry gave to her. I was with him when he bought it. Only yesterday, it seems.
“What’s the time?”
“It’s just past midnight. British time.”
“I haven’t slept so long in months.”
“Maybe you just needed some company.” She smiles.
“I’m going to see Sarah.” I jump out of bed and slip the sgian-dubh in the leather strap tied around my ankle.
Elodie’s smile wanes, replaced by an anxious expression. “Now? In the middle of the night?”
“Sarah is very powerful. She has the Blackwater and the Midnight