Soul Beach

head again; the beaded dreadlocks swing happily from side to side, which feels wrong for the subject. ‘No. Not that I know of, anyway. I don’t play any part in the whole Judgement Day business. It’s a different division.’
    ‘You’re telling me that God has divisions ?’
    She pulls a face. ‘Sorry, mate. My stupid sense of humour. Look. I know how to mix a Long Island Iced Tea, how to break up a fight, how to unblock the dishwasher, but I don’t understand much about the bigger picture.’
    ‘Oh. So what was all that about limbo?’
    Sam looks shifty. ‘Only stuff I’ve picked up from all-night ‘putting the world to rights’ discussions that happen in here. But I do know that all our Guests died with something unresolved. Murders. Suicides. Accidents that weren’t all that accidental. I don’t know if we’re born with our date of death stamped through us like a stick of Blackpool rock, but these kids died too soon, or too violently. I promise you, no one here went peacefully in their sleep.’
    I think of the headlines about Meggie: they called her the Sleeping Beauty Songbird . Zoe, the girl who found her body, said her hair was laid out on the pillow like a halo, and her skin was flushed, as though she’d had a bit too much sun. ‘No one?’
    ‘It might not be heaven, but it’s definitely not hell here either,’ Sam goes on. ‘I mean, look at this place. Free food. Free drink. Non-stop sunshine and beautiful party people. Guitars for those beach-front jam sessions. No stress. Volleyball .’ She smiles. ‘There’s every reason for the kids to forget what happened before.’
    I really wish I had a glass of her wine in my hand. ‘Kids?’
    ‘Oh, yeah. I forgot. You haven’t seen anyone yet, have you?’
    ‘Yet. Does that mean I definitely will?’
    ‘Yes, I’d say so. It’s kinda of like those stupid Magic Eye pictures. You need to learn the knack. But you will, and then you’ll see what I mean by kids. Put it this way, I feel like a right old bag here compared to the Guests.’ She looks at her watch. ‘I think that might be enough for now, Alice. It’s a lot to take in. Plus, you’ll be wanting to see your sister, yeah?’
    She stands up, picks up her glass and the ashtray. I’m amazed to see it has three stubs in it, just from our conversation.
    ‘No smoking ban in limbo yet then?’ I ask.
    She smiles. ‘I’m the only one who bothers, here. We’ve got a fag machine,’ she gestures towards the corner, ‘but it’s empty because none of the Guests are interested.’
    ‘Sam? One last thing.’
    She stops halfway to the bar. ‘What?’
    ‘If the Guests are meant to forget the past, why am I here?’
    ‘Ah . . . .’ she walks back towards me, still holding the glass and the ashtray. ‘Sometimes people can’t accept it. The living-for-now.’
    ‘So I’m here to help Meggie accept her fate?’
    ‘Something like that.’ She looks uncomfortable. ‘Like I said, I don’t have all the answers. And in this particular case, your guess is as good as mine.’
    I have a hunch she’s not telling me the whole truth, but she turns her back on me before I can ask any more.
    ‘Thanks,’ I say, and she looks up from tidying the bar.
    ‘Any time, mate. Megan’s by the jetty, I think.’
    I realise I’m being dismissed. I take two steps down from the bar to the beach, and when I turn round, Sam is a little shimmery, as though there’s a heat haze between the two of us. She’s humming along to the music.
    ‘Sam?’
    ‘Hmmm?’ She doesn’t look up.
    ‘You’re not . . . not an angel , are you?’
    Now she does look up. Her face breaks into the broadest smile, and she begins to laugh. It sounds musical. Almost angelic, I think. But she’s shaking her head and laughing so hard she can’t seem to stop. When she does regain control, she fights to catch her breath.
    ‘Oh, Alice, you’re priceless. Whoever heard of a Scouse angel?’

15
    I step onto the sand. The beach still looks empty, though knowing there might be people in my way makes me unsteady on my feet.
    Even though, in reality, I have my bum parked safely on my pink office chair.
    I strain to detect voices, switching the volume up to max, but I hear none. Instead, I feel the same tingle I felt the first time here. It’s impossible not to feel awed by this place, even though I know it’s not real . . .
    As I walk towards the jetty, I hear my ‘footsteps’ slapping on the sand. I move the mouse faster. The