Soul Fire

even work. . . but if it does,
the Beach will lookthe best it’s ever looked.
    So how come I suddenly want Lewis to stay here, with me, instead of leaving me alone while I go online?
    ‘Do you have to go now?’ I ask.
    Lewis pulls out his gloves. ‘Why? Is there anything else you want to tell me, Ali? Anything else you know?’
    Apart from the fact that there’s an entire other universe where dead kids go? And the fact that Lewis has already helped me to set one girl free from the eternal ‘paradise’
of the Beach, even though he doesn’t realise it?
    ‘It’s just . . .’
    I break off. My friendship with Lewis works because we keep away from emotional stuff. If I want to be comforted, I go to the Beach, to be held by Danny or to hear Meggie’s voice.
    But what happens if I do keep going and manage to solve her murder? I’d lose her, and Danny. Will I cope when the real world is the only one I can access?
    ‘Alice. An hour, right? Promise! You’ve got exams coming up, haven’t you?’
    I pull a face. ‘It’s hard to take the exams seriously.’
    Lewis gives me a long look. ‘Will failing your exams bring your sister back?’
    ‘Guess not.’
    He nods. ‘Keep smiling, kiddo. And don’t worry about Burning Truths. I’ll get the weirdo behind it. Apart from anything else, I can’t stand the idea of being defeated by
someone who uses Copperplate Gothic as their font of choice.’

12
    After he’s gone, I hesitate.
    What if I’m wrong? What if my sister has gone since I logged in last, and Tim with her?
    I focus on what I’m doing, trying to ignore the fear. I do what I’ve done a hundred times before: log into my email, find the one with the link, click. Hope.
    I’m there. In the bar. The detail on Lewis’s screens is breathtaking. The whorled knots on the bamboo struts, the tiny red bug climbing up the stem of a flower on the table.
    Even though I hate being here – it means I’m about to be lectured, or worse – I am momentarily stunned by how real it feels.
    Sam sits down next to me, loosening her grubby apron. Her tattoos look almost raw, and there’s a livid reddening around her eyebrow piercing. I wonder if she ever minds being the only one
on the Beach who doesn’t glow with inner beauty. She’s neither a Guest like them, nor a Visitor like me. Who knows what she is? Angel? Prison guard?
    ‘How’s tricks, sunshine?’ She’s smiling. Does that mean everything’s OK?
    ‘I . . . I don’t know. You tell me. Do you have some news? Bad news?’ I can’t bring myself to say the words, to askif Meggie’s gone.
    As Sam shakes her head, her dreadlocks thump against her skinny shoulders. ‘Nothing bad that I know of. What’s rattled your cage?’
    ‘Your new . . . Guest.’
    ‘Ah! Ah . . .’ She lights a cigarette with dirty fingers and I smell the nicotine: the only nasty thing I’ve ever smelled on the Beach, where everything else is as fragrant as
a designer perfume. ‘He’s the one they arrested, isn’t he? The one everyone but you thinks killed Meggie.’
    ‘Tim. Yes, he is.’ Sam’s the only one on the Beach I can talk to about the forbidden stuff.
    ‘Topped himself, did he?’ In her Liverpool accent, everything sounds like a joke, even when it’s not.
    I look at her. ‘Aren’t you meant to know that?’
    Sam sniffs. ‘Come on, Alice. You know the Management like to keep everyone in the dark. Even me.’
    ‘In the dark. You said it. Nothing’s making sense, Sam.’
    ‘When you’re lost, stick to what you can be sure of, Alice. Your sister needs you, especially now. She needs to know you love her, so tell her.’
    ‘She’s going to disappear, isn’t she? You do know something. Tell me.’
    ‘I don’t know anything. I promise. But, yes, she might go. It used to be rare, but since you arrived on the Beach, things seem more . . . unpredictable.’
    ‘Did none of the other Visitors manage what I did, then? To set anyone free?’
    Sam stubs out her cigarette. ‘There’s no point looking backwards, mate. Make the most of what you’ve got, while it’s still here.’
    It’s still morning here on the Beach. The sky is a soft baby blue and the sun isn’t fierce yet. The shore is quiet, too, as the Guests stay in their bamboo huts,
dozing or making love.
    There are no deadlines here. Nothing much to get up for.
    As I walk along the sand, the Guests who are out already wave or smile at me. Most of the faces are familiar now, though I’ve lost track