Soul Fire

to say something else, but then he smiles. ‘Oh, Alice. I don’t deserve you,’ he says. ‘But maybe I can be better. For your sake.’
    ‘Don’t be silly. You’re good enough as you are. Don’t look for problems where there are none. I don’t have any shortage of those in the real world, so being
here is all about making the most of you.’
    And I focus on the warmth of his body against mine. I must concentrate on the good things. The Beach is a haven, not only for the Guests like Danny and Meggie and Javier, who have suffered so
much, but also for me.
    I won’t let it be spoiled.

20
    I’m so out of practice at parties that I have to make a list of what to do: straighten my hair, cover the spots on my chin, curl my eyelashes.
    Of course, on the Beach, I am transformed into a beauty even when I’ve just dragged myself out of bed in the dead of night. In real life, it’s harder.
    Mum beams when she sees me. ‘You look wonderful, darling.’ Though she still stops to wipe an imaginary smudge off my cheek.
    ‘I’m not five years old, Mum.’
    ‘You’ll always be my baby, Alice, though you get prettier every day. Tonight, you look just like . . .’ She stops. ‘Just like a young woman.’
    Cara’s much less impressed.
    ‘Couldn’t you be bothered with lipstick? Honestly. You’re really not trying very hard at being badly behaved.’
    On the train into town, she whips out her make-up bag and begins to make me over, one brushstroke at a time. By the time we pull into Waterloo, I almost don’t recognise myself in her
pocket mirror. My eyes are bigger, my lips fuller, my hair puffed up.
    ‘What do you think?’
    ‘I feel like a new person,’ I reply, and she links arms with me, grinning.
    ‘I am the makeover queen.’
    As we step down from the train I inspect myself a final time in the grimy window.
    I stop. Look again.
    ‘Come on , Alice.’
    It can’t be.
    The third time I realise it’s just my own reflection. But for a few moments, I was one hundred per cent certain I’d seen my sister smiling back at me.
    We’re outside a big tapas bar behind the station when my phone rings. Lewis. I haven’t heard from him since he agreed to look into Burning Truths; I was beginning
to think he’d met his match.
    ‘Wait a second,’ I mouth to Cara, but she’s already pushing open the door to the bar. I hear Latin music and smell garlic before it swings shut again.
    ‘Lewis. How’s tricks?’
    ‘Slow going. But my net’s closing in on Burning Truths.’
    ‘Really?’ I try not to sound like it matters as much as it does. ‘How soon might you crack it? Tonight?’
    ‘What’s the hurry?’
    It doesn’t seem like the right time to tell him I’m hoping I might be closing in on the person behind the site, or even the killer. He’d probably call the police.
‘I’m just impatient, that’s all.’
    A group of girls on a hen night pass by, whooping and singing.
    ‘You out on the town, Ali?’
    ‘It is a Saturday night, Prof. I’m sure you’ve got a hot date for later, right?’
    I hear him laugh. ‘No, but I do have a number of very hot leads in the domain registration world.’ Behind the joke, he sounds lonely.
    ‘Thank you. For doing this for me.’
    ‘Hey. It’s how I relax. Some people get pissed or do paintball. I like to crack cyber mysteries.’
    Cara sticks her head round the door, waving a bottle at me.
    ‘Well, thank goodness someone does or I’d be stuck, Lewis. I am super impressed. Shall I call you a bit later? Find out how you’re doing?’
    He says nothing for a minute. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing you any favours here.’
    ‘You are, Prof. And one day, I hope I’ll be able to explain why.’
    He sighs. ‘OK. Back to work, then. Have a lovely evening. Take notes. Then you can remind me what it’s like, back in the real world.’
    I shiver. I’m not sure I’m ready to face the real world myself.
    Ade has more friends than I realised. His birthday party begins with a meal in the dark back room of the tapas bar, and the table is set for twelve.
    Twelve . So much for a quiet get-together. But I shouldn’t judge him. Everyone deals with grief in different ways.
    Unless he’s not grieving at all . . .
    Sahara is wedged into the corner, her handbag, hat and phone arranged in front of her like a castle’s defences. She’s the reason I thought Ade wouldn’t have many friends. I
thought she’d scare a lot of them off.
    ‘Hi, Sahara,’ I call out to