Soul Fire

else freaking her out? ‘I wouldn’t dress like this for fun, would I?’
    ‘Isn’t that what tonight is about? Fun?’ Cara says.
    Zoe turns on her. ‘You’re not going into the flames looking like that, are you?’
    ‘Ugh, not that again,’ Cara says. ‘You’re worse than my mum.’
    Zoe shakes her head. ‘Things are different here. It’s the culture. You look after yourself. You don’t expect other people to do it for you.’
    Cara is wearing the skimpiest of halter-neck dresses. ‘Er, it is midsummer, in case you haven’t noticed. But don’t worry, Ade’s already agreed to lend me his
shirt.’ There’s the briefest glance between him and Cara that only I notice. Sahara is too busy trying out her balaclava and tying the scarf round her thin, slightly greasy hair.
    ‘I’ll be OK in this, will I?’ Sahara asks.
    ‘You could probably survive a nuclear bomb in that,’ Zoe says. She turns to me. ‘You’re OK, Alice. Though watch out for your hair. Ideally you’d cover that
too.’
    ‘I’m a wimp anyway.’ I tell her. ‘I don’t intend to get too close.’
    I can’t help thinking that Zoe’s going over the top. How can the wide boulevard we walked down yesterday turn into some fiery vision of hell?
    ‘Assuming I don’t turn into a human firecracker, what happens?’ Cara asks. ‘We dance in the flames for a bit, and then what?’
    ‘When I came with my parents the first time, they kept me safely on the sidelines and it seemed to last a couple of hours. But if you’re in the thick of it, I think the time will go
lightning-fast. Fear does that.’
    Sahara’s taken her balaclava off now, but her eyes are wide open, as though she’s half expecting Satan himself to pop up out of the barrel our drinks are resting on.
    I take my mobile out. No messages.
    Cara winks. ‘Not expecting a text from the mysterious Danny , are we?’ she whispers.
    If only she knew.
    Dusk is falling fast and it’s beginning to feel more like Halloween than midsummer. The bars and cafés are all candlelit, but a sea breeze has swept in so the flames keep blowing
out.
    It’s still warm, but I’m shivering. Lewis catches my eye and then nods towards Zoe. I know what he’s thinking – if the parade goes on for hours, maybe this is my best
chance to talk to her. If he’s right, and she wants to talk too, then perhaps all I need to do is break away from the group, let her come to me . . .
    The others are chatting and laughing as I walk to the edge of the road, brushing past Zoe ‘accidentally’ on the way. I cross over, closer to the harbour and the city museum. There
are lights on some of the yachts, but most of the people are headed to the right, into the city.
    ‘You know, don’t you?’
    I turn round slowly. Zoe’s dark clothing makes her look even smaller.
    ‘I know what, Zoe?
    ‘That I am la Fée Verte .’
    Even though I believed Lewis, it feels different to hear Zoe say it – like it’s the first big step forward I’ve made in all the time since I found Meggie on the Beach and
realised what I must do.
    ‘We guessed.’
    ‘You and your boyfriend ?’
    ‘He’s not my—’ I look at her and realise her eyes are wild with . . . what? Amusement? Or terror.
    ‘That’s what everyone else thinks, though, isn’t it? But I’m more observant than that. I notice things, like the fact that you two seem to be on some kind of mission. So
how did you guess?’
    ‘I thought la Fée Verte might be you, but Lewis confirmed it.’ I wonder if I should go further. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, Zoe, and I admire you for
it.’
    ‘Then why interfere?’ She doesn’t sound hostile, just curious.
    ‘Because I think the same as you – that Tim didn’t kill my sister – and that knowledge is risky. But so is all this secrecy. Shouldn’t you go to the
police?’
    ‘Like Tim did, you mean?’
    ‘What?’
    A family with twin girls run into us, laughing, and the mother smiles in apology.
    ‘Yes. Tim went to the police. They didn’t believe him. They thought it was some attempt on his part to distract them from his own guilt. Next thing, he’s “committed
suicide”.’
    ‘You think the police were involved ?’
    ‘No. No. They’re just too incompetent to look any deeper than following some kind of ABC children’s manual of detective work that tells them to a) find an obvious suspect, b)
tell the media even if you don’t have the evidence, and c) hound him