It was our first summer at Lake Roake.
The white sands that surrounded half of the lake’s shore made you think you were in Hawaii rather than England; actually, it was probably somewhere near Lincoln. The lake, a giant crater, wide and deep, was surrounded by trees that kept its secrets from leaking beyond the wooded perimeter. The far side of the lake was so far it almost felt like an ocean when the sun set in the distance and obscured any hope of seeing the faint image of the wood opposite. Pinwheel roads that jutted out from the lake were mostly hidden by the trees, but when you reached the end of each road, the view opened and the white sands dared you to cross as the lake beckoned with glittering reflections, in the day – of sunlight, and in the night – of moonlight.
Mum had specifically avoided holidays near water after the time we rented a cottage with a tidal river at the end of the garden and no fencing. Nightmare, just a nightmare, was all she said for the whole two weeks, who would rent this house to a family with toddlers? I kept having to tell her to forget about it and that if we went now, the law about access to water with children around had probably changed anyway. The twins were now seven and knew how to swim, old enough according to Mum for a summer holiday by the lake. Mum spent the week before in a frenzy of list making – beach towels, beach chairs, goggles, swimming costumes, sunscreen, sun hats, picnic basket, floats – you name it, and Mum jammed it into the car.
“A summer of bliss,” Mum said smiling as we finally drove east with the car piled high.
Dad was meeting us at the cabin after work. Mum said that he would be in and out all summer commuting to work; she felt we needed a car as well, justifying a two-car holiday for one family of five. For me, it meant that I was able to sit in the front, away from Isla and Lynn, and control the music from my phone. I was twice their age and the gap between us grew larger each year.
“Rosemary, turn that off now and read me the directions from the owner.” Mum handed me her phone. “Look in my mail – Ameila Waterbone.”
I scrolled and found the email and read: ‘It’s the largest lake in the area. Fresh water with the power to magically heal. It’s what remains from the formation of glaciers hundreds and thousands and thousands of years ago.’
“Rosemary, please, the directions? She said the post code doesn’t take you to the right place.”
I scrolled down and read: “For the southern approach – take the ring road counter-clockwise to the east exit to Hill Street. Pass Lake Roake Park, pass Madison’s Farm Shop and the boat launch and there…there it is.” I said pointing at our cabin. It was not so much of a cabin but a large house with a porch and a view with access to the lake.
Isla and Lynn jumped out and Mum screeched after them laying down the rules for the lake. “Don’t go off of the porch without an adult. Don’t go on the sand without an adult. And don’t for any reason, and I do mean any, go in the lake without an adult.”
I started hauling in our luggage. It was less altruistic and more selfish; I figured if I helped unpack, I’d get to choose the best room. I was right. Mum was pleased and I chose the room at the front of the house that looked out onto the lake; the best part was the balcony, something Isla and Lynn weren’t allowed to have – they might fall out, or jump, basically Mum found it a problem for them as they were just ‘so unpredictable’ in her eyes.
I took my journal out of my bag, opened the door and stepped outside to take in the view. My journal does not document my life or have any deep dark secrets, not really, just words or thoughts. And so far, this lakeside holiday was pretty good. I wrote:
Arrived at Lake Roake. Sunny and warm. Bedroom at front of house. Bed has a yellow and pink patchwork quilt. Balcony. View of white sand and lake. Imagining I’m somewhere exotic and far away. Feeling good. Not at all jittery. Only three lies so far today. But it is still early in the day.
I count my lies. There’s nothing to it. I just like counting them. Most people don’t even know when I’m lying and sometimes, I make a column for lies people recognise and a column for lies they don’t.
I opened my suitcase. I had decided to live out of my suitcase. At least to start. I didn’t want to waste a minute of the sunshine. It could change so quickly. I put on my bikini and a beach dress. I pulled my dark hair up and piled it on top my head as I slipped on my flip-flops. I slung a blue and white stripped beach bag over my shoulder. I had already packed it with sunscreen and a towel. I grabbed my phone and water bottle and headed out to the sands. Isla and Lynn were already parked in front of the iPad and didn’t see me leave. I closed the front door quietly and felt the freedom of the lake calling me.
The trail was easy and led directly from the house to the sands. To the left and to the right, not a single soul could be seen. Maybe tourist season hadn’t started yet, I thought. Mum had said that the lake was one of the less visited, hence why we could get such a good location at late notice.
As I walked, I let the pure white grains sift over the top of my feet; they looked like strange sand creatures from a science fiction movie. The water at the edge of the lake was a deep blue almost as pure as the sand. I videoed my feet, the sand and the water. The edge of the lake seemed shallow, and there was no tide, it just seemed to heave or pulsate towards the centre. I put my phone and water bottle into my beach bag and let the bag drop to my feet, then I slipped off my dress and left it on top of the bag. Security. Someone would have to move my dress before they stole my phone. An effort.
It was only three steps to the lake; I approached slowly. No, I approached cautiously. As I stepped into the water, allowing the coldness to flow over my toes, a boy’s voice screeched at me, “NO! GET OUT!”
I jumped back and dislodged the white sand sending it flying as I fell backwards.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Hey. What’s the big idea?” I said brushing the sand off of the palms of my hands. “Has there been a chemical spill or something?”
“No. Don’t you know? They’re supposed to tell everyone.” The boy said.
“You’re crazy.” I said standing up and headed towards the lake.
“You can’t go in the lake.” He said and moved to block my way.
“Back off.” I said stepping around him. But he moved again. His blond hair fell in his eyes as he formed a barrier between me and the lake.
“As I said…” He spoke very slowly and calmly and pushed his hair off of his face. His dark eyes were wide and serious. “You can’t go in the lake.”
I pushed him out of my way and as he fell, I quickly walked around him. Before he could stop me, I marched into the lake up to my knees but jumped backwards almost immediately. The water was icy – icy like a snowy mid-winter day. The blood in my veins ran cold and it gripped my heart. But it was not the cold or the pain that tightened in my chest, it was what I saw in the middle of the lake. She was there, in a small boat, just for a moment.
“Are you okay?” He knelt next to me. “Look, I told you not to go into the lake. I saw…I saw you arrive with your Mum. Why don’t I help you back to your cabin? They should have really told you.”
I blinked. There was nothing there. On the lake. No lady. No boat. I let the boy help me to my feet. It made no sense.
“What’s out there? On the lake?” I asked him as I picked up my dress and threw it over my head.
“Nothing’s out there on the lake. It’s what underneath.”
I hitched my bag over my shoulder, I said, “What’s underneath?”
“Look. No one goes in the lake.”
“That’s stupid. We’ve come here for the summer and can’t go in the lake? We’re going to roast in our cabin. No pool. No lake. Nothing.”
“The risk is huge if you swim in the lake.” He said. “Look. It all began a long time ago. But you know what happens if I tell you a story and then you tell it to someone else. It changes a little bit with each retelling, however, even if the details have changed over the centuries, it’s still about love and death, you know. There was a lady, in a time before all of this, who was in love. And as you’d imagine, it was a tragedy; she lost her love. But the anger that followed, well, was unlike any anger anyone had known, and festers will all of the bodies that lie at the bottom of the lake.”
“That’s crazy.” I said but even as the words came out of my mouth, I wasn’t so sure.
“Look, hundreds of people have drowned here. And all I’m saying is don’t be a statistic for this summer. There’s a pool in town.” He said holding out his hand. “Evan. Maybe we could go together?”
“Rosemary.” I said taking his hand, shaking it tentatively and vaguely agreeing. “Alright.”
The pool would be warmer at least, I thought. Evan ran off before we reached the end of the path to the cabin.
I pushed the door open and Mum was talking to someone in the kitchen.
“Hey.” I said as I entered. “I met this kid called Evan and we’re going to check out the pool later in the town. Is that okay?”
The lady stopped mid-sentence and Mum said, “Rosemary. That’s not funny. Who told you to say that?” She turned to the woman in the kitchen. “Violet, I am so sorry. I don’t know what to do with her sometimes. Since the accident, well, the lies are just continuous.”
“I’m not lying. A boy called Evan told me not to go into the lake.” I insisted.
Violet stood up. “I think I’d better go.” She said as she shook her head at me.
“Rosemary, this summer is a chance for a new start.” Mum said as Violet left. “I thought you said that you would try?”
“I am trying.” I insisted.
“Then set the table and stop lying.” She said as she handed me two plates.
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The Gold Shoe Writer 