Soul Fire

away with murder for a second time.
    But then again, Meggie never really wore scarves. They’re what older women wear.
    None of it makes sense.
    Sahara frowns. ‘Alice, this might not be what you want to hear, but what other explanation could there be? Someone broke into the flat, got Tim drunk against his will, faked his suicide
and then got out? Ade was only gone a couple of hours.’ Her voice is gentle; maybe I’ve misjudged her. She might genuinely want to look after me. Or perhaps I simply remind her of my
sister.
    ‘He sat in the dark.’
    Sahara and I both look at Ade.
    ‘He wouldn’t have the light on. The last few weeks. He seemed to be getting more depressed.’
    Because your sister was everything to me, Alice. She lit up my world. She was like the brightest flame, and now the world feels so dark without her .
    I can’t get that last conversation with Tim out of my mind. Even though it was a conversation Sahara thinks I should never have had.
    Then I think of something else. ‘Was there anything on the web that could have upset him, sent him over the edge? You know how bitchy people get.’
    Sahara’s face doesn’t change, neither does Ade’s. He shakes his head. ‘Not that I know of.’
    The hall clock ticks. The coffee’s gone cold.
    ‘We ought to head off,’ Ade says. ‘To see our friends.’
    ‘Except there aren’t any friends round the corner, are there?’ I ask. ‘I mean, I understand you wanted to see me. You don’t have to pretend.’
    Silence. ‘We’re going . . . to lay flowers on her grave,’ Sahara says eventually. ‘I know there’s no point. She can’t see them. Other people can, though, when
they pass her headstone. It shows she was loved.’
    I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes. I haven’t been back to her grave once, because I can see her every night. But Meggie left a huge hole in Sahara’s life, I see that
now.
    ‘She knew that,’ I say.
    Ade shuffles in his seat. ‘We don’t want to lose touch. Just because . . .’
    ‘We were a part of her life too, Alice. We won’t forget her. Or you. In time I was hoping you might come to see the two of us as . . . good friends of yours, too. Maybe we can even
help you, as a brother and sister would.’
    It’s hard to know how to respond. I had a sister. I don’t need a substitute.
    Sahara’s still talking. ‘We can’t replace Meggie, but we are that bit older than you, so if there are things you can’t discuss with your parents, we’re just a call
or a bike ride away.’
    I can’t imagine asking her for advice, yet I can tell she’s being sincere.
    ‘Come on, Saz.’ Ade pats her hand, as though she’s a small girl. ‘Let’s leave Alice to enjoy the rest of her Saturday now.’
    ‘I do need to go back to my homework,’ I say, feebly.
    Sahara stands up. It always surprises me how tall she is. She wants to hug me again and I let her. ‘And don’t forget Ade’s birthday get-together. There’ll be people there
who loved your sister. It could be . . . nice.’
    Ade doesn’t hug me, but he smiles sympathetically.
    I wave them off at the door and watch them walking back along the close. Sahara forces her helmet over her head, and climbs onto the front of the motorbike. Ade climbs on behind her, his arms
tight around her waist, before Sahara starts up the engine, takes a long last look back at me, then speeds off.
    Perhaps I should scrub their names off that stupid suspects list upstairs. Accept it’s doing me no good at all to question everything, and everyone.
    And then it occurs to me. Flowers . They were going to lay flowers on Meggie’s grave. Yet they weren’t carrying anything, and there’s nowhere to put them on that bike
without them getting crushed.
    It’s probably nothing. Maybe they are going to buy some at a garage now.
    But even so . . . Maybe I won’t tear my list up just yet.

19
    ‘Brother and sister ? Is that seriously what Sahara said to you?’
    I’m beginning to regret telling Cara about my weekend visitors. She’s taking a slightly unhealthy interest.
    ‘She meant it, Cara. OK, so she’s intense. But she was very sincere.’
    ‘Sincerely freaky , more like. What about Adrian ?’
    Something in the way she says his name makes me look up from my sandwich. ‘How do you know Ade?’
    Her cheeks colour. ‘Um. From the funeral.’
    ‘Bloody hell, Cara.’
    The other girls in the common room look at me. I don’t care.
    ‘Sorry, Alice. Was that, like,