Soul Beach

her face and shakes her head. ‘Scrub that. Nothing makes me unhappy so long as you’re around, Florrie.’
    I don’t believe her. ‘Is there anything I can do to make things easier?’
    ‘There is . . .’ Meggie hesitates. ‘No, it’s not fair to burden you.’
    ‘Burden away,’ I say. ‘Seriously. Anything.’
    ‘How would you feel about going to Greenwich?’
    I stare back. How would I feel? Terrified yet oddly excited . It’s not as though I hadn’t considered it myself already. I’m as desperate to get the answers as she is. Even if that involves putting myself at risk. ‘To see Tim?’
    She nods. ‘I know it’s a huge thing to ask, but there’s so much unfinished business, Florrie. Not just with him, but with Sahara as well. We hadn’t really been talking before . . .’ she hesitates, ‘. . . before I died, not for a while. I want her to know I cared about her. Valued her as a friend. And Tim. He should know that I loved him.’
    ‘Even though he might have . . .’ now I’m the one hesitating, because the threat of being banned from the Beach again hangs over me as the worst thing I can imagine in the world.
    ‘ Especially because he might have. I think, well. If you saw him, he might tell you things. Things that might lead to . . .’ she whispers, ‘a resolution.’
    A resolution . I remember what Danny said, his theory that the Visitors here can only escape if something changes in the real world.
    ‘But then I might lose you again,’ I say, before I can censor myself. ‘Lose the Beach. Lose what matters.’
    Meggie smiles at me sadly. ‘You’ll never lose me, Alice. Not now we’ve spent so much time together. But I understand if it’s too much to ask. I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t worry about it.’
    ‘No, I’ll do it, I promise.’ Because the truth, I realise, is that I’ve always known a showdown between me and Tim would be inevitable. I need to know what really happened, and my own selfishness at wanting to keep my sister where she is – where I can see her and talk to her – has to come second to resolving this.’
    She mouths Thank you , then claps her hands and the others look round. ‘I reckon the show’s nearly over, boys and girls, so how about the Old Dog and Duck for a pint of bitter before closing time?’
    They laugh at her fake cockney accent and scramble back to their feet, and they’re off again, towards the beach bar. I hold back. Am I a coward, not to have visited Tim already? No, it’s not that, because physical harm doesn’t scare me at all. In a way, I’d almost be relieved if Tim turned on me, because then at least I’d know for sure just what he really is. And have an answer to that question that’s dominated everything for seven months: who killed my sister?
    As I watch my sister get further away from me, and then disappear into the bar, I feel a pang of loss, and that’s when I know I must go, whatever my fears about facing life without her.
    Love – real love – is about sacrificing your own needs for someone else’s.
    It’ll be a test. I can only hope I’m strong enough to pass it.
    I turn back towards the sea, and realise I’m not alone. Triti’s still here, too. She’s staring at the sky, which has turned a strange rusty colour, from the gunpowder.
    The others are laughing and joking in the bar. The fireworks seem to have had an effect on everyone. I don’t feel like joining in, so I say goodnight. But now I’m lying in bed, and it’s like they’re still with me.
    I think of Triti and Danny and Javier. But mostly of Meggie and Tim.
    And wonder whether I can bear to let her go . . .

33
    I’m not the kind of girl who bunks off school.
    And, despite her backchat and bluster, neither is Cara, so I can’t ask her to come along for the ride. For an amateur like me, the risk of discovery is high: the teachers are already on my back about my falling grades, creepy Olav is dying to get his hands on my neuroses, and Mum is building up to another Big Talk about my Future. As if I care . . .
    Still, a few detentions are the least of my worries, compared to confronting the chief suspect for my sister’s murder.
    Better not to think about that right now.
    I slip out of school after registration and take the back roads where none of Mum’s friends live. Instead of using our nearest station, I walk to the next one along to catch the train. I sit in the front carriage, facing the wrong way, behind a dog-eared copy of