Soul Beach (10 page)

She doesn’t believe that any more than I do.

My father hugs me briefly, silently.

On my way upstairs, I know the only way I’m going to feel better is by seeing Meggie again, even though it’s only twenty minutes since I left her.

Outside my room, a wave of nausea hits, and I only just make it to the bathroom in time.

Afterwards I throw water into my face, and try to drink it from the tap, to wipe out the revolting taste. Is it insane to believe that Tim might talk to
me
? That our friendship might make
him trust me?

I scrub at my face with a flannel. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t a re-run of
Buffy
or
Scooby Do
. Perhaps I am losing it, to imagine he’d confess just because I ask
him nicely.

But then again, perhaps what makes me different is that I’m pretty much the only person out there who
wants
to believe he’s innocent. I can’t imagine him smothering my
sister, ignoring her struggles, and then calmly leaving her digs to get pissed in the student bar, making sure he’s caught on the CCTV to give himself an alibi.

That’s not the Tim I know. We all thought he was one of her phases, when she brought him home only a few weekends after starting at uni. Every previous boyfriend had been flashy, in love
with himself, but Tim was so
straight
, right down to his name. After years of Rafes and Joshuas and even a Merlin, Meggie fell for a Tim who hated parties but loved cooking, who felt more at
home on a protest march than in the booze-filled green room behind the scenes on
Sing for your Supper
. Incredible.

But gradually it started to make more sense. The other men treated her as a trophy; Tim treated Meggie as a human being. He opened doors for her, let her choose the best seat in a restaurant,
carried her suitcase. Some people would find so much attention suffocating, but she lapped it up. He adored her and she adored him back. They were supposed to be the University Sweethearts who fell
in love in term one, married on graduation, stayed together for ever. They didn’t fall out when she started to get famous, not even when one of the gossip columns printed a picture of the two
of them with the headline
Surely The Songbird Could Do Better Than This?

I knew the truth behind the cruel headlines, or at least I thought I did: that he was a million times better than the arrogant poseurs and hangers-on who were trying to edge into her life. That
he was kind and gentle and judged people on
who
they were rather than what they could do for him. Otherwise why would he bother with me?

Unless, of course, I was just a gullible little girl who he could fool with a few casual questions about my GCSEs and my favourite movies? If he could manipulate me so easily, what might he do
if I show up on his doorstep?

I can’t go to see him. It’s an insane idea.

And yet, I need to know who killed my sister, and why. It has to be worth the risk.

I tiptoe back to my room, my head still fuzzy from the brandy in my system. I have to log on now before I lose it completely. I move the laptop onto the bed.

I need to be on the Beach
.

I wait for the buzz, for the strange, half-pleasurable, half-fearful sensations that Soul Beach awakens in me. I cannot imagine anywhere in the crappy real world feeling
this
good again.
I picture Meggie, squinting into the sun, and then, behind her, I imagine Danny, his green eyes seeing into my soul . . .

But I’m not on the sand. I’m in the beach bar. It’s dark, except for ripples of moonlight that shine in through the open sides of the building.

‘Sam?’ I call out.

She pops up from behind the bar, looking even more elfin and otherworldly in this light. She’s holding a roll-up and she looks slightly guilty.

‘Taking a break?’

Sam nods. ‘R and R. It’s been hellish for the last few hours, if you’ll pardon the joke. Maybe the management are playing around with the thermostat, but it’s feverish
here.’

I smile, though I couldn’t be less interested in the temperature. ‘Have you seen Meggie?

‘She left the bar, maybe twenty minutes ago, when they decided to go for a late night picnic. What’s the rush?’

‘I . . . it’s Tim, her ex-boyfriend. Well, he was still her boyfriend when she died. The police have been questioning him and now he’s been released.’

‘That’s why you’ve landed in here first, then, I guess. So I can remind you that you mustn’t say anything to her about it.’

‘Another of the pointless rules?’

‘This one isn’t pointless. How will it help her to know what’s happened when she doesn’t even remember how she died? Will it make her any happier?’

I consider this. ‘But the police think he killed her. Everyone does.’

Sam takes a drag on her cigarette. It changes her face shape, makes her look cruel. ‘Doesn’t sound to me like you do.’

I stare at her. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Hunch. Always been my speciality, hunches. But anyway, go on.’

‘You said before that people are here because they’ve died unresolved deaths. So once the death is resolved, doesn’t that mean people leave?’

‘Who told you that people leave?’

‘Danny. I don’t know his second name. American.’

‘Oh. Danny Cross. Hmm. I should have known it would be one of the big
thinkers
. They cause so many problems.’

Danny Cross
. I write his name down. Maybe if I can find out why
he’s
on the Beach, it’ll help me understand why Meggie is, too. ‘Did he get it wrong
then?’

She walks to the side of the bar and I join her. The beach looks real again, now, all the strangeness I felt after Meggie told me there were no animals, no birds, has gone. The waves seem to
call out to me.
Jump in, the water’s lovely
. I’ve never skinny dipped, but I can understand why you would here.

‘Look, mate, I told you before, everything is need to know. All I do is make it as good as possible so that the kids never
want
to leave.’

‘But some do.’

She sighs. ‘Some want to leave, yes. And a few, a very few, find a way out. But mostly, this is for eternity, and the ones who do best are the ones who learn to stay in the moment. All the
kids who’ve tried to keep track of how long they’ve been here lose count after a couple of years, and then hate themselves for it. It doesn’t help.’

‘And the ones who do find the escape hatch? Are they the ones who kept trying?’

‘No. It’s not that simple. There are Guests who are desperate to leave but never do, and some who loved it here, but then simply didn’t show up one morning.’

‘So it
is
about something that happens in the real world.’

She blows a pungent smoke ring. ‘Real is a relative term, Alice.’

‘In my world, then?’

Sam looks away. ‘I’ve probably said too much already.’

‘So . . . if I do something that helps to resolve what happened to Meggie? Like, I don’t know, work out who killed her. Would she disappear?’

‘Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do anyway. It could be dangerous. Things have effects you could never predict.’

‘But . . .’

She seems to be thinking something over. ‘All I’ll say is that I think you might be right about resolution being the key. But resolution doesn’t always mean what you think it
means. As Confucius might have said.’

‘Confucius?’

She waves the comment away. ‘Some old Chinese guy. You know your trouble, Alice? You read too much into things. Half of what I say is as pointless as you’d expect from a girl
who’s been up all night.’

‘And the other half?’

She tuts. ‘Give it a rest, will you? Tell you what, it’s a good job you’re only a Visitor. You’d go crazy here.’

‘I’m going to find her,’ I say, quietly.

Sam stands next to me, and the stink of cannabis is almost overwhelming. ‘Go on, Alice. And when you do, tell her jokes and happy stories, enjoy the time you’ve got with her. If
there’s one thing I’ve learned in this bloody place, it’s that you never know what you have till you lose it.’

If Meggie has an inkling that anything has changed back ‘home’ then she’s not letting it show.

I find her lying on the jetty, staring up at the crescent moon, while three guys gaze at her like she’s a mermaid who’s been washed ashore. I look for Danny or Javier but
they’re not among her admirers. These men are toned and honed and, in the blue lunar light, their skin reminds me of marble. Plus, their poses are too deliberate, as though they’ve
chosen the best positions to show off their muscles. Funny, I hardly know Danny at all but I cannot imagine him doing that: though I am not nearly so sure about Javier.

I have to remind myself that in real life they probably weren’t nearly as cute, so they’re making the most of the novelty of being gorgeous. I guess I might do the same if I looked
so good.

Then again, while I’m here, maybe I do.

‘Meggie?’

She looks up and for a moment, she frowns, the way she used to when I walked into her room without knocking and found her posing in her underwear in front of the mirror, holding a banana to her
face instead of a microphone. But then she smiles so kindly that I realise I must have been wrong.

‘Oh, Alice, you’re back already, that’s terrific!’

The beefcakes don’t look round, and I’m about to say something about their rudeness, when I remember that of course, they can’t see me.

Megan stands up. ‘I shan’t bother to introduce you to these three,’ she says, stepping in towards me for an air kiss. She whispers, ‘They’re not very bright or
interesting and to be honest, I’ve already forgotten their names myself. I had wanderlust. Wanted a break from the intensity of the usual gang.’

She walks ahead of me, back towards the bar. ‘Good to see you again so soon, baby sister. Taking a break from your homework?’

‘Something like that. You know what it’s like at home,’ I say, even though she doesn’t, not any more. If she walked up the driveway to our house now, she wouldn’t
see any difference: same peeling paint on the garage door, same garden statue of a kissing couple next to the pathway (not my parents’ choice, but it had been concreted in by the previous
owner and there’s no shifting it).

Inside, though, everything feels topsy-turvy, like a parallel world where evil has reversed all the settings so that
happy
and
family
have changed to
sad
and
strangers
.

‘Tell me what’s been happening on telly
,
’ she says.

As I try to remember the latest storyline from her favourite soaps, it’s a struggle to pretend any of it matters. But I need to do it, for her sake. Funny to think that only a month ago I
would have been ecstatic about being able to talk to her about
anything
, however banal.

‘Hi, girls.’

I know it’s him before I turn around:
Danny Cross
. In the semi-darkness he looks older, more serious. He catches me staring and I blush. The one consolation is that I don’t
think he can see me blushing, because I’m not
really
there.

‘Hot still, isn’t it?’ he says.

Oh. I look at the web cam light, glowing mischievously. Evidently Danny
can
see my face. I hope it’s been given the magic Soul Beach airbrush, so that I look as stunning as the
Guests. ‘Is it?’

My sister sighs. ‘Ugh, it’s always hot here, even after sunset. I never thought I’d dream of rain.’

I turn, peer out of my real window in my real bedroom: a storm has begun, and I didn’t even notice. The dense, dark sky keeps splitting open, the thunder coming a second or two later. The
eye of the storm must be close.

‘We could go to the bar. At least they have ceiling fans,’ suggests Danny.

As we enter, Sam drags herself up from a chair to mix their cocktails, but she doesn’t acknowledge me beyond a half-nod. I realise that our conversation was strictly private. It’s
not as though I’d dare repeat it anyway. Not with so much at stake.

I watch my sister extra closely as she sits down with her mojito, and I try to commit every millimetre of her to memory. Because if I do go ahead with my plan to corner Tim, and if that
does
resolve anything, I could lose her all over again.

But where will she go
then
? Will she no longer exist, or is there
another
place beyond the Beach?

‘. . . has she always been such a daydreamer?’

Javier and Triti have joined us at the table, and Javier is waving a hand in front of my face.

‘Sorry. Miles away.’

‘You mean light years, don’t you?’ says Javier. The others laugh.

Lightning flashes outside my bedroom window, almost dazzling me I’m so close to the eye of the storm now, and thunder follows immediately. No one on the Beach flinches, of course.

I feel got at. ‘It’s not easy for me, either, you know.’

‘What? Being alive? Oh, poor
you.
’ Javier has fixed me with his eyes, like a jaguar sizing up its prey. I look up to my sister but she’s smiling at him.

‘Javier, leave her alone.’ It’s Danny who stands up for me.

A sly smile crosses Javier’s unshaven face. ‘Sweet.’

‘What?’ says Danny.

‘Love across the divide. It’s like a movie. But they’re doomed.’ Javier mimes playing a violin, and Triti and Meggie pull faces, but they’re
oh, you’re too
funny
faces.

Rain is lashing against my window now, loud as bullets.

‘Ignore him. He’s a dick,’ says Danny.

‘And you are proof that Americans have no sense of humour,’ Javier replies, stretching out his long legs, and yawning.

Meggie smiles at me. ‘Don’t listen to either of them, Florrie. Apparently they’ve been at it ever since they got here.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Javier replies.

‘Did you arrive at the same time, then?’ I ask.

Danny nods. ‘Yeah. A year ago. Kinda like twins.’

‘Twins?’

The idea seems grotesque, that you’re twinned with someone who died around the same time. Though I suppose it’s every bit as significant as the day you’re born.