Soul Beach

told me.’ His voice is still calm. ‘And, you know, maybe I had no right to mention it to Tim either, but I thought it through for ages and I did mention it. And, well, he says he does want to talk to you.’
    I stumble back against the school wall. Suddenly it’s the only thing that feels solid. What did my sister say? He might tell you things.
    ‘Tim? When? I can come now.’ Before he changes his mind.
    ‘Hold on, Alice. It’s not quite that simple. He’s pretty sure he’s being followed by the police.’
    ‘What?’
    Ellie from my Media Studies class walks past. She gives me a smile and I realise how normal I must look, for once. Like a hundred other girls, sneaking in a call from a boy before racing into class.
    ‘I don’t know if it’s true, or if he’s being paranoid, but ever since he was released from questioning, he says he’s been seeing the same guys tailing him. Plus a car is always parked in the road opposite our flat. I’m pretty jumpy too, to be honest.’
    It’s hard to imagine detectives following Tim around, as he goes from library to corner shop and to the greasy spoon he always preferred to Starbucks. They must be so bored. Unless, of course, I’m wrong about him, and he’s spending his days torturing pigeons and preparing himself for his next kill.
    ‘God.’
    ‘That must sound shocking, after what you’ve been through.’ His voice is kind.
    ‘I guess it does, yes.’ I remember what Sahara said about her and Adrian arguing over Tim. ‘Do you think he did it, Adrian?’
    There’s a pause. Around me, the stragglers are racing into school, watched by the head of Year Seven, who is always eager to get a few more names on her late list so she can sentence them to a week of litter clearing.
    Adrian sighs. ‘I guess I’m ninety-nine per cent sure he’s innocent, or I wouldn’t be living with him.’ He tries to laugh. ‘I was the only one willing to, mind you, but on the plus side, he’s a good cook, and always cleans the loo. Do murderers clean the loo?’
    I pretend to laugh, but really I’m wondering how Tim copes with being notorious. He always loathed the limelight. ‘What about the one per cent? The bit of you that’s not sure?’
    ‘Thing is, Alice, since your sister died, I’ve found it impossible to be a hundred per cent sure of anything or anyone. Even good friends.’
    ‘I know how that feels.’
    ‘I bet you do. So, did I do the right thing? The last thing I want to do is upset you even more.’
    ‘Yes, yes, you did. Thank you. I definitely do want to see him, so what should I do next?’
    ‘Tim needs to find a time when he can feel safe. I’ll text you because he thinks his phone’s being tapped.’
    ‘Are they even allowed to do that?’
    ‘I guess anything’s OK if it they think it’ll help catch Meggie’s murderer.’
    I nod to myself. ‘I guess. Will he call soon?’
    ‘I’ll talk to him. I think he’s nervous about what you’ll say.’
    ‘Thank you so much for doing this for me, Adrian. Tell him . . . tell him all I want is the truth.’
    ‘Don’t we all, Alice. Take care.’
    He rings off, and I stare at my phone until I hear a loud tut and see the head of Year Seven walking towards me. ‘Just because you’re in the sixth form, Alice, doesn’t mean you’re immune from litter duty. I’ll count to three. One . . .’
    I scoot in through the gates, even though I couldn’t give a toss about litter duty or registers. When I reach the corridor outside Mr Bryant’s classroom, everyone’s waiting because he’s late himself.
    Ellie sidles up to me. ‘So what are you doing about Saturday?’
    I gawp at her. No one but Cara bothers to invite me anywhere these days, and even she’s on the point of giving up. There must be some stupid house party on Facebook that they’ve included me in, as the charity case. Or the freak show.
    ‘Quiet night in. As usual,’ I say, praying for Mr Bryant to show, and breathing a sigh of relief when he does, dropping his papers and fiddling to find his key.
    My classmates look at me like I’m an alien. Just because I don’t want to go and get drunk with them and fend off slobbery advances from tongue-tied sixth formers from the boys’ school, or my classmates’ sweaty older brothers.
    I really don’t think I’m the freak around here.

44
    There are two dark estate cars on the drive when I get home. Mum must be playing host to her grief cronies.
    I take my shoes off in the storm porch,