Soul Beach

can mime – but now it’s unbearable.’ And then I realise how that sounded. ‘Sorry. I’m such a bitch.’
    Cara nods, and eats half a biscuit before she speaks. ‘I only asked because in the pub you said you were fed up with no one ever talking about Meggie.’
    ‘Oh.’ I see her point. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘No. I’m sorry. Today’s an exception, Alice. Sure, there’ll be times like this when it’s all anyone can think about. But if Tim did do it, they’ll get him in the end. He’ll go to prison and then you can live the life you were always going to have. Which reminds me. Have you started on your UCAS form yet?’
    I take a biscuit myself. I didn’t eat this morning and I feel slightly faint. But it tastes like cardboard. ‘No. Maybe I should go to Greenwich, like Meggie.’
    ‘So you can be even more paranoid about people always thinking of your sister?’ Cara shakes her head, then stands up. ‘Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy. I’ll put up with it, I’m your best mate. But not everyone feels that way . . .’
    ‘Are people saying things?’ And then I wonder if she means Robbie. ‘Has Robbie been talking to you?’
    ‘No. He’s too loyal. But it doesn’t mean he’s not getting pissed off, Alice. And don’t think for a second that the Megan thing will stop other girls getting their claws into him. I’ve already heard whispers that people think he’s fair game because of the way you treat him.’
    She waits for my reaction. I feel nothing. ‘Thanks for the warning, Cara.’ I stand up too. ‘If we don’t go to History now, we might as well not bother.’
    She grabs my hand. ‘Don’t leave me, Alice. Please . I feel like you’re slipping away.’
    I stare at her. ‘Don’t be daft, Cara. I’ve got enough on my plate without you saying weird stuff.’ I walk out of the common room, feeling wired from the sugar rush. I know she’s right. That I’m going to lose Robbie to some competitive bimbo from Year Eleven. But I don’t think I care enough to try to stop it happening.
    Somehow I get through school, ignoring the whispers, and then I walk home alone.
    Today the sky’s so grey it merges with the pavements, and the humidity plasters my hair to the back of my neck. I crave colour: on Soul Beach, it will be blue and gold and sunshine and salty sea breezes that blow away any stickiness. If it isn’t actually heaven, then it must be pretty damn close. I suddenly feel slightly impatient with Meggie. What exactly is wrong with eternal paradise?
    OK, too much of a good thing might get samey, but given a choice between hellfire and tropical loveliness, most of us wouldn’t hesitate. Trust Meggie to find something to complain about.
    There. I’ve said it. Meggie could be a bit of a moaner.
    Death smoothes away people’s faults. Meggie was beautiful and talented and generous and funny. No one could resist her. That much we’re allowed to talk about. But she could also be moody. And selfish. And patronising. Even, occasionally, unkind. She was a human being, but now that she’s dead, she’s a saint.
    Mum didn’t sit me down and say do not speak ill of the dead . It happened naturally. It’s only now that I’ve got her back that I can admit how maddening she could be on the rare occasions when she wasn’t the centre of attention.
    Is that why she’s so miserable on Soul Beach? On earth, her voice and her beauty made her special. Even before Sing for Your Supper , she stood out. But now she’s just another pretty face in an ocean of them. I’ve heard the kids jamming by the shore, and no one on Soul Beach sings off-key.
    Now she knows what it’s like to be me.
    No, that’s not fair. I have a future, she doesn’t. I can’t even begin to understand how she feels. But then isn’t it torture for her when I’m on Soul Beach? My presence is a reminder of what she’s lost. Perhaps she even wonders why it had to be her and not me. God knows, I wondered it myself in the early days.
    Maybe that’s why Visitors stop going back to Soul Beach. It’s not because the living get bored hanging out with the dead. It’s because they realise that the dead don’t want a constant reminder of what they’ve lost.

30
    ‘You know I’d never put pressure on you, Ali. It’s just that . . .’
    We’re sitting on Robbie’s bed. He texted me after hearing about Tim from some kids in his school, and insisted I come over. But now we’ve somehow stumbled into The Big Conversation, the