Soul Beach

a possessive edge to her voice that makes me feel like a show-pony.
    ‘Hi,’ I say, waving awkwardly.
    ‘Come on, sit down here,’ she says, patting a two-seater sofa and sitting down next to me. Too close. ‘You remember everyone? Lisa was in the same tutorial group as Meggie.’
    A girl with curly hair waves at me. Is it just a myth that people with curly hair can be unpredictable? She doesn’t look the murdering kind.
    ‘Simone and your sister were going to start a band together, remember, before the TV show came up?’ Sahara reminds me.
    Simone raises a glass to me. ‘So sorry.’ She’s tiny, could barely squash a fly, never mind suffocate my strong, healthy sister.
    ‘Then Adrian, my boyfriend.’
    He actually gets up, offers me his hand, and when I shake it, he puts his left hand over the top, just like the vicar did at Meggie’s funeral. It feels warm, almost comfortable. ‘You know, I still can’t believe it,’ he says.
    I shake my head. ‘Me neither.
    I’ve never really noticed him before, but his face is one of those that draws you in slowly. He has high cheekbones, skin so pale he could be Scandinavian, and light brown hair that’s swept back from his face like a fighter pilot’s. He’s too good looking for Sahara, I think, and then dismiss the thought. I don’t fancy him, but he seems like a gentleman, somehow.
    Not him.
    Around the table we go, and I weigh each person up. Su-Lin, a Chinese girl with a lazy eye was out of the country when the murder happened. Jules, who knew my sister from the uni open day and tracked her down as soon as they both arrived as freshers, is too sweet, almost in awe. Meggie had that effect on people, drawing them to her like moths to her flame.
    I feel the absence of Tim, and someone else.
    ‘Where’s Zoe?’
    The others look away. Sahara reaches out to touch my hand. ‘She . . . left college. It was too much. The memories. She’s gone travelling or something.’
    Zoe found my sister’s body. Unlucky enough to be the first one back to the shared flatlet after the party, she’d passed Meggie’s door, noticed it ajar and then pushed it open. Later, she told the press my sister looked like an angel, with her hair like a halo around her flushed face. The police ruled her out, but then they were all looking for a man . . .
    Could there more to her quitting college than trauma?
    I notice, then, that no one is speaking, or looking at me. Alice the party pooper strikes again. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t know how to make small talk with me, either.
    Adrian rescues the situation. He makes a show of looking at his watch. ‘Shit. Late for my lecture.’ He stands up, and the others scramble to their feet, too, swigging the dregs of their drinks, and mumbling more condolences, before leaving the pub, even though I know the chances of all of them having lectures at the same time are tiny.
    Only Sahara remains. As we watch them walk towards the exit, their body language changes. They jostle and joke as they disappear into the light.
    ‘Why did you come here, Alice?’ Sahara asks. ‘Tell me, please. I might be able to help.’
    Can I trust her? Meggie and Sahara met on their first day at college, because they’d been allocated to the same flat in halls. They were always in and out of each other’s tiny rooms. I don’t know if the friendship would have lasted – I hadn’t even realised they’d fallen out before Meggie died. My sister certainly thought Sahara could be needy and emotional, but maybe emotional isn’t a bad thing in a person you want to confide in.
    ‘I wanted to see you. To let you know my sister really cared about you.’
    Sahara smiles. ‘I knew that anyway. But thanks.’
    ‘I know she regretted the argument you had.’
    Her face changes. ‘What?’
    ‘You fell out. Before she died. But she didn’t mean it.’
    ‘We were fine.’ She pushes out her bottom lip like a child sulking. ‘We’d just both been busy with other stuff.’
    What am I meant to say now? That I know they rowed, because my sister specifically wanted me to come and see her. ‘Well, anyway, I know she’d have wanted you to remember her at her best.’
    Sahara is staring at me. She looks almost hostile. ‘You came all this way to tell me that ? You could have told me at the funeral.’
    ‘I know . . .’ Then I realise: if anyone knows where Tim is, it will be her. ‘I came to see Tim, as well.’
    ‘Oh.’ She looks startled. ‘Does he know?’
    I