Soul Beach

almost popping out of their sockets as she ladles on the sincerity.
    ‘They actually asked us?’ Dad says and Mum nods, raising her eyebrows.
    ‘But Meggie’s mother, Beatrice, agreed to speak to us about the six months since she lost her daughter, and how knowing she’s remembered by millions helps the grieving process.’
    Mum’s had the soft focus effect, too. Or maybe it’s the extra weight she’s carrying, because she looks more like Meggie’s sister than her mother as the shot widens to show her sitting in the chair that I’m now curled up on.
    ‘From her first few weeks of life,’ Mum says, ‘I had this sense somehow that my little girl would end up known to millions . . .’
    At the end of the tribute – which was more tastefully done than I’d expected, though the album plug by that runner-up boy band as they paid their respects was tacky as hell – the actor repeats the number for Crimestoppers .
    As the camera switches to elsewhere in the studio, where the model is about to interview the contestants, Dad mutes the telly.
    ‘Right. There we are then.’
    ‘I know you didn’t want me to do it, Glen, but you never know what might happen. It might make someone feel guilty enough to go to the police,’ Mum says. We all know exactly which someone she has in mind.
    ‘It wasn’t too awful,’ Dad concedes. ‘What did you think, Alice?’
    ‘Could have been worse,’ I say. I wait for the moment when I can return to my bedroom and the Beach, where my sister is back in the present tense, not the tragic past.
    We sit in silence. I can’t guess my parents’ thoughts. Maybe I don’t want to. Perhaps they think the wrong daughter died . . .
    Suddenly Dad stands up. ‘The pizza. They haven’t brought it. I’ll go and chase them.’
    I want to say I’m not hungry any more, but he’s already gone.
    ‘I’m off for a lie down, Mum.’
    She stands up and opens her arms. ‘I did do the right thing, didn’t I, Alice? It was impossible to know what was right.’
    I hug her, and whisper, ‘Of course, Mum. You did a brilliant job.’
    I release myself and go upstairs.
    There are four texts on my phone.
    Cara’s says: Thinking of you, chick. Why not join me and Felipe for a drink later, yeah? I bet you need it.
    Robbie’s says: Hope you’re OK. Still love you, you know, as a mate. Still care. xx
    There’s one from a number I don’t recognise, until I remember I forgot to save Adrian’s name to my phone: Tim’s been in tears tonight. He promises he’ll be in touch soon. I watched it too and I still can’t believe she’s gone, even now. She’ll always be a legend. So sorry. Ade x
    The final one is from Lewis: I’VE GOT HER. Triti, I mean. Let me know when you can talk .
    No sympathy. No sadness. He’d probably even forgotten that the show was on.
    But his is the message I’ve been waiting for, and the one I respond to straight away.

48
    ‘She died in a hospital in Camden,’ Lewis says, when we meet in the pub.
    Oh my God. Triti exists. Existed.
    For a moment, I can’t speak. More proof that Soul Beach is real. Despite everything I’ve found about Danny, sometimes I still get worried that someone has set the whole thing up as a clever hoax. Or even that my imagination is somehow dredging up random stuff I’ve read or seen, and I really have lost it.
    Yet I couldn’t possibly have read about Triti. Which means Lewis might just have proved I am sane. Which means I am now pretty much his number one fan.
    I find my voice. ‘You’re sure it’s her?’
    ‘A hundred per cent. I found her via the death certificates on one of the official registration back-ups. You don’t get much more certain than that.’
    ‘Is that public?’ I ask.
    Lewis smiles. ‘Not really. But the security on their mirror site is unbelievably lame. Got through the encryption in under a minute.’
    He reaches into his messenger bag.
    I catch sight of the Gucci logo. ‘Is that a real one? They’re four hundred quid, aren’t they?’
    Lewis frowns. ‘I don’t care about the label, I’m not that shallow. It’s just that it’s more hard-wearing than the fakes.’
    I happen to know the bag is this season’s – Cara hopes her mum might buy her one for Christmas if she drops enough hints – so I wonder how he knows yet that it’ll outlast the fakes. But I’m too distracted by the papers he’s taken out of the bag to argue. I reach out.
    ‘Wait, wait!’ he says, determined to savour his moment of