Soul Beach

who she was.’
    ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘But no one talks about her any more, do they?’
    Cara and Robbie exchange glances, like doctors with a nervous patient.
    ‘We weren’t sure you were up to talking about her,’ Robbie says. ‘We should have asked, though. Memories keep people alive, don’t they?’
    I hesitate. They are my two best friends in all the world. Maybe I can tell them the thing that scares me most in the world. I take a deep breath.
    ‘If the memories keep her alive, then what happens when I forget her?’
    They look shocked.
    ‘You won’t,’ Robbie says.
    I shake my head. ‘I won’t forget about her. But already . . . well, I know that one of her two front teeth was chipped but I can’t even remember which one .’
    ‘The right one,’ says Cara, tapping her own slightly nicotine-stained tooth. ‘Same as mine.’
    ‘I don’t think that’s quite what Ali meant,’ says Robbie. ‘Look. It’s not the details. It’s how Meggie made you feel that counts.’
    He doesn’t understand either. The feeling that every time I forget something about my sister, I am betraying her. That I am a poor excuse for a sister. But I should have known there was no point in trying to explain: right now, the world seems an even lonelier place. ‘Yeah, maybe. Thanks, guys. Who’s on the bar tonight?’
    ‘Dopey bloke with the tats,’ says Cara. Then she winks. ‘You remember. From the Christmas party. Mr Octopus. He’ll do anything for me.’
    ‘Good,’ I say. ‘Because I could really use something stronger than a beer right now.’

8
    I tiptoe into the house, hoping to avoid the Spanish Inquisition.
    ‘Alice?’ Dad calls out from the living room. I freeze.
    ‘Going straight to bed,’ I yell. ‘I’m really tired.’ I hold my breath.
    He grunts ‘OK, goodnight then, sweetheart.’ I don’t suppose he wants to talk any more than I do.
    I switch on the laptop, though I bet whoever is behind the whole scam has skulked off into cyberspace like the cowardly hacker he is.
Subject: Re: Re: Meggie Forster wants to see you on the Beach
    I stare at the subject line. I can’t believe he’s replied. Maybe this guy is so stalkery that he’d settle for second best sister?
    Or maybe it really is her.
    Well, obviously I’m not that stupid. I focus on my two choices: open, or delete.
    No choice at all, is it?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: September 24 2009
Subject: Re: Re: Meggie Forster wants to see you on the Beach
Please, Florrie . . . I’ve waited so long now
    At first, I think I must be drunker than I realised. The text is more like hand-writing than a typeface, and blurred handwriting at that, as though the ink has run in the rain . . .
    Except it isn’t ink, is it? I’m looking at a computer screen, not paper.
    But that’s not the weirdest thing.
    I close my eyes. I imagined it, didn’t I?
    I open my eyes again, and it’s still there.
Florrie
    I am Alice Florence Forster. Conceived – oh God, how could they have given me that middle name for that reason? – in an Italian hotel on my parents’ wedding anniversary. Meggie’s middle name is London. She was actually conceived in a one-bedroom flat in Shepherd’s Bush, but even my mother knew that would be a step too far.
    My middle name is a closely guarded secret, known only to six people: my form teacher, my doctor, my dentist, my embarrassing parents.
    And my sister.
    The only person in the world who can get away with calling me Florrie.

9
Please, Florrie . . . I’ve waited so long now
    I read it over and over again. No full stop at the end of the sentence. That is so not like my big sister. As well as being a singing prodigy, she got A*s in GCSE and A Level English. No one ever accused my sister of just being a pretty face. So her lack of punctuation proves there must be something wrong with her.
    Of course there’s something wrong with her, you dozy cow. Meggie is dead.
    Except I don’t think I believe that any more.
    I know it’s her. The same way I knew that scary Cara would be my best friend the minute I saw her in the playground at secondary school, or that Robbie would be the first boy I ever kissed. I know .
    Everything outside this room is the same – I can hear my father snoring on the sofa downstairs, the only place he can still sleep soundly– but everything in here is changed. My heart beats loud and fast. Should I run down, wake him up, tell him that Meggie is with