We sleep like that, in each other arms, covered by our abandoned clothing. Kartik has draped my dress across my body to keep me warm, I find. I gaze at him, asleep in my arms. His curls are feathery and wild, his chin coated in the finest of stubble. He is breathing deeply, his lips rippling endearingly with every exhalation. I extricate myself from him, tangled as we are, and stand, shivering in the morning breeze. Flowers are still blossoming through the fat grass, and I stumble to the lake, gaze down at my reflection.

For the first time in my life, I am beautiful.

He has made me so.

And then I gasp, because I have seen something I recognise. Peering more intently down into the crystal clear waters, I see a red rowing boat. It seems suspended in the water, deep, deep down. I almost cannot see it. It flickers into being with every ripple of the water, and I grow frustrated. A red rowing boat.

I know that boat.

It seems as if every part of my previous existence slips through my fingers as I try to grasp at memories, grasp at reasons. I am a new person, no longer a girl, but a lady. A face flickers into view. It is a girl white blonde hair and big smoky eyes, with a mocking smile and the palest of skin. She twirls in my vision seductively, blows me a kiss, and disappears. I frown, try to recall her name. Fee-something.

Another girl, this one twice as beautiful but twice as ordinary, with glossy dark ringlets and a petulant pout. I instantly take a dislike to her, but then realise that tears are streaming down her face as she is reaching out her hands.

For me?

For anything.

I turn from the lake, stumble back up to where he lies, undisturbed and beautiful. I touch his chest, expecting him to melt away into thousands of silken butterfly wings. He is real, real to the touch, real to the taste. His lips are soft and warm, achingly delicious. He does not wake.

I drag on my chemise, gazing around me fearfully as I sit next to my sleeping beauty. His refusal to wake is beginning to scare me. In a fit of terror, I shake him vigorously, screaming his name, the tears suddenly pouring down my face.

He is not dead. He is drowsy. Sitting up, and rubbing his eyes, I see the muscles on his chest tauten and relax. I sink into his embrace, sobbing quietly, while he wakes fully and expresses concern.

Such concern.

"Where are we?" I cry into his shoulder. He strokes my hair softly, murmuring words in a tongue I do not understand. They reassure me anyhow, but I still cannot forget the sight of the crying girl, the smiling girl, the little red boat that is haunting my vision.

"Gemma? Gemma? Are you all right? What have you seen?"

"A boat. Oh, god, a boat." I rock against him gently, and his stroking does not cease, but as soon as the words have parted with my lips, I tense, knowing how stupid and childish they sound.

"A ... boat? A boat?"

"Mmm." I nod, once, twice, and he chuckles. "There is no boat, Gemma."

"Not on the lake. In the lake."

He pushes away from me, holds me by the shoulders. "Well, of course." My frown is self-explanatory. He gazes at me in complete bewilderment for a second or two, but then his face clears and he says, "Ohhhh. Did I not tell you?"

"You would have thought my expression would have been sufficient." My sharp tongue cuts into his words before I can stop it, but he laughs, and holds me close once more. "I am sorry, Gemma. I forgot to tell you."

"Well, tell me now, then."

"All right." And so he does.

"I found this lake ... the night that ... the night of the dagger."

I know what he means.

"I planned ... I planned to ... end it all. For myself. You understand? Yes. Of course you do. I put stones in my pockets, and rowed to the deepest part of the lake, and ... jumped in.

"Everything happened. I was sinking, and then I realised that ... something wasn't right. You remember it, don't you?"

I frown, shake my head. I remember arriving here, but not how, not when, not where from. I remember the night. That is all I am. That is all I ever was.

"Gemma? You can remember everything, can't you? The lake. The boat. Spence?"

The word is familiar. Perhaps it is the name of a kindly uncle or perhaps it is even my father.

No. It is ... a building. Bleak and cheerless, but my home. The place of so many adventures.

Adventures to where? With whom? My head is buzzing with thousands of questions that I do not hold the answer to.

"You do remember Felicity?"

Felicity.

Of course.

I smile in spite of myself as it comes flooding violently back, a thousand memories all at once. Her painting of fruit, our kiss in the alcove, her black, black eyes, Felicity crying, kissing, laughing and hating, Felicity dancing, Felicity living –

"Felicity."

It is more than a word. It is alive.

"Yes. Anyway, I arrived here. I looked around, realised that everything I ever wanted would be mine."

"Why didn't you stay?"

"Because..." he leaves the rest of his sentence unspoken, dangling in front of me so close I can taste it.

"Because?"

"You weren't here."

There we go. Just one reason for living, one person who loves me, and I am content. I am loved.

"We must return."

"How?"

Perhaps I am stupid. It is a possibility I have considered far too often.

"How we arrived here. Diving into the lake. Making sure we drown."

What a wonderful idea, dear Kartik. Just what I feel like doing. Drowning myself.

"You are joking?"

He shakes his head ruefully, bites his lip, and risks a quick glance in my direction. I know exactly what I look like. I am stood in my chemise, red hair dripping down my back in crimson curls, my green eyes flashing with annoyance, daring him to prove me wrong, my skin positively glowing white, hands on my hips.

I am my mother, and it makes me smile.

"Drowning ourselves. That does sound fun." I murmur, and cock my head, inspecting the lake. "And we do have to – what was it? Dive?"

"There is no boat to take us to the centre."

"Indeed there is not, dear Kartik. My lovely Kartik."

"Your lovely Kartik." He grins, struggles into a sitting position, drags on his clothes and hurls me my petticoats. Felling slightly indignant, I drag them on, along with my dress and boots, and wait for him down by the lake. I feel strangely self-conscious in all my pretences. Lace and silk and diamonds.

Silk and diamonds.

Dear Ann.

He, too, clearly does not know how to react now that I am all formal and virtuous again. He tries to joke, bows ostentatiously, kisses my outstretched hand, murmurs breathily into my ear, words that mean nothing and never have.

"Shall we?"

Not waiting for a response, he bends down and retrieves four smooth pebbles. He embraces me, slipping two into my pockets, and placing two in his. He kisses my cheek, and then looks deeper into my eyes than he ever has before, and asks me the question, "Shall I go first?"

"We cannot go together?" My heart is once more in my mouth, and I cannot swallow it. He shakes his head. "We could not get out deep enough together. Do you want me to go first, so you can see what to do?"

At first I am indignant – he is not better than me simply because he wears trousers – but then I understand his words. He had done this before. He knows what to do. I do not. I have always been foolish and arrogant, and the combination of the two in never good. That has been proved sufficiently, I am sure you will agree.

I nod, once, and he is gone, diving into the water with hardly a splash. Rippling swim out frantically from his departing body. I am alone, shivering and wary, in this eerie paradise. Without him, it is frightening. There is no birdsong, no animals or other people. Just the sound of the water at my feet, and suddenly I am terrified.

I was not watching closely, I cannot simply 'dive'. What does he think I am, some kind of fish? I try to steady my breathing, try not to turn my back to anything at all, and that it when I hear it. Creeping up on me, rusting through the rich, fat earth and beautiful flowers. It is there, it never left me, never ever ever –

I turn, quick as a flash, and it pounces, I can smell it, and it chokes me, writhing and tumbling through the air towards me, such utter blackness, such utter bleakness –

I turn my back to it and dive.

I'm not sure i made it very clear, but the two lakes are like flipsides. like head and tails etc. 'the coin effect' blahdiblah. two parallel worlds, one on top of the other.

ENJOY (that is an ORDER!)