Soul Storm (18 page)

He looks so confused that I want to hold him, reassure him as he’s reassured me so many times. Yet I feel awkward. Something’s changed today, not just for me, but between the two of
us.

‘I know how it feels. To be . . . different.’ And I force myself to overcome the uneasiness, to reach out to take his hand.

His skin is hot and when his fingers close around mine, a wave of something like heat passes through me too. I blush and let go.

And then I realise something significant. That time Lewis saw the Beach, he was touching me, as he leaned towards the screen. Is
that
why it was visible to him and no one else?

Perhaps I should tell him? But this has all freaked him out, too. Maybe adding yet another layer of strangeness will make it even worse for poor, rational Lewis.

He looks away. ‘I don’t see where the hell we go from here.’

To the Beach again,
I think, but then I remember the wasteland that remains. Not to mention that agonising goodbye – should I really disrespect Danny’s plea for me to stay
away?

Except this isn’t just about Danny. It’s about Meggie, too.

The relief I felt about the scan result is trickling away. ‘I have to try again, Lewis, to go back. There’ll be something I’ve missed, some clue that will help me resolve what
happened to Meggie.’
And to Danny,
I think, but I don’t say it. ‘My parents aren’t letting me look at the internet again till I’m at least forty, so
we’ll have to do it at your flat.’

‘Ali, your mum’s probably got a private detective tailing you to make sure you don’t go anywhere near my place. I’ve never seen anyone so angry as when she threw me out
of the hospital. Not that I blame her.’ He runs his hand through his hair, and it sticks up, as though he’s had an electric shock. ‘Face facts. We can’t even be friends,
now.’

Even?
What else does he think we are? ‘Cara will cover for us. She always does. We can meet back here: once Mum’s realised I survived today, I’m sure she’ll let
me come back. And you could bring one of your vast collection of laptops, surely. Tomorrow night?’

‘Tomorrow? What’s the urgency?’

‘I guess I want to be put out of my misery.’

‘Why? Did something else change when you were on the Beach in the lab?’

I don’t want to tell Lewis about Danny. I can’t explain exactly why I’d hate Lewis to know all that, but it makes me feel deeply unsettled.

‘I just don’t think there’s any time to wait. But you’ve done more than anyone else would have, Lewis. I understand if you don’t want to help me any
more.’

Finally he laughs properly, as though what I’ve said was meant to be a joke. ‘You’re right. I should stop here, shouldn’t I? But in all the time you’ve known me,
Ali, tell me when I’ve ever been able to say no to you.’

Despite all that’s wrong, and my many doubts, that makes me smile. I count my blessings. Whatever it is, the Beach is real in some way and not just a figment of my deluded imagination.
I’m sane.

And I’m not fighting alone any more.

I sit in my bedroom, listening to my parents rowing downstairs.

Dad’s putting his foot down about Olav. ‘We can’t leave her in the care of some amateur any more, Bea. It’s not worth the risk.’

‘Amateur? You think I’ve spent the last year being helped through my grief by some . . . charlatan? I’ve dealt with it a bloody sight better than you have—’

And they’re off again.
My
fault. Before the fire, they’d been getting on better, but now it’s almost as bad as the months after Meggie’s funeral, when they dealt
with the loss by tearing each other apart.

I put my headphones into my ears, turn up the music and try to focus on tonight, when Mum’s given me permission to go to Cara’s again for a whole two hours. This time, Lewis is
bringing his kit, so I can try to go back to the Beach.

And then what?

The fear that the Beach is a dead end and Meggie’s gone forever is all I can think about. If only I’d made the most of it while she was still there – found a way to get more
information. Yes, now I know it was real, but how does that help me get justice for her?

Sleep is the only escape. I’ve learned to look forward to being dead to the world.

Both
of my worlds.

Sahara.

In my bedroom.

She’s hazy, yes, but it’s definitely her. A nightmare.

She’s speaking to me, but though her mouth is moving, fast, I can’t hear a word. I blink, try my hardest to wake up. She’s reaching out with those long, gnarled fingers. Is she
going to suffocate me too? She came close enough when she sent choking smoke into the lab, knowing how little it would take to kill me.

The hands are coming closer. Slowly. Surely.

Perhaps this dream is trying to tell me something Meggie no longer can.

‘No! Get away!’

I feel tugging. Then the touch of her nails against my face, my ears.

‘. . . was it a bad dream, Alice? I’ve discovered these amazing herbal teabags, they take everything awful away. Only the deepest, loveliest sleep remains.’

‘I . . .’

The headphones drop out of my ears onto the bed and I realise,
I’m not dreaming.
Sahara really is here.

‘Who let you in?’ I ask sharply.

‘Your mum. Oh, Alice, it’s wonderful to see you. You had such a lucky escape.’

She’s acting as if everything’s totally normal. Has she forgotten about the visit that Ade said left her ‘hysterical’? Blanked out the night-time phone call?

Does she have amnesia about trying to
kill
me?

I rub my eyes but her face is still blurry, which makes me feel vulnerable. ‘Sahara, what are you doing here?’

‘Alice! That’s not much of a welcome!’

I’m too rattled to pretend. ‘Seriously, I don’t understand. Last I heard from Ade you were so devastated by what I’d said that you never wanted to see me
again.’

She laughs nervously. ‘Ade’s just over-protective. But he’s got both our interests at heart. And I
was
hurt, but when I heard what had happened, I had to come and
check you’re all right.’

Or check how close you came to finishing the job?

‘I’m not great company at the moment, Sahara.’

Of course she doesn’t take the hint. Instead she sits down on the bed, so close I can smell boiled sweets on her breath. She sighs. ‘What are we going to do with you, Alice? Your
sister would have hated to see you this way.’

No, my sister would have hated to see Sahara here, sinking her fangs into me like a grief vampire.

‘I need to rest . . .’

The door is opening. Thank goodness, Mum must have realised she shouldn’t have let Sahara in. I can tell her to send her away again.

Framed against the light is a figure so pale that it could be a ghost.

‘You look better than I’d feared, Alice.’

Ade.
No show without Punch, as my dad says. But at least with two of them here, I feel slightly safer. Sahara will have to behave herself.

‘I survived.’

I’m not embarrassed by the awkward silence that follows.

‘Thank goodness,’ he says. Out of focus, his pale face reminds me of the man in the moon. ‘We were so worried.’

So he’s in on this pretence that we’re all the best of friends, too.

‘We almost didn’t come,’ Sahara says, ‘but we had to see you in person.’

‘I look bad and I feel about eighty years old,’ I tell them. ‘The smoke can affect your lungs for weeks, apparently.’

Is she feeling guilty yet?

‘Fresh air is what you need,’ she says. ‘And a change of scenery. That’s what we’ve come for – as well as to check up on you.’

‘To check you’re all right, she means,’ Ade puts in.

‘There’s no chance of a change of scenery now,’ I say. Dad hasn’t mentioned that New York trip lately. Cara’s flat is the furthest I’ll be allowed to go now
for . . . well, as long as they can keep me here.

‘Which is why we want to invite you to stay with us, Alice!’ Sahara’s voice is high-pitched, as though she’s offering me the best treat she can possibly imagine.
‘Now we’ve moved in together we’ve been jazzing the place up. And there’s a spare room in our flat.’

It’s not a
spare
room. It’s where Tim used to sleep.

‘We’re on holiday from college so we can take you anywhere you like in the car.’ She picks up one of the uni prospectuses Mum has stacked up on my desk. ‘We could head
off to one of the campuses you’re considering.’

The pitch of her voice keeps rising. Going to stay with them is the last thing I’d consider – but why is she so desperate to stay close to me?

‘I’m not sure . . .’

‘Your mother thinks it’d be an excellent idea to take your mind off things,’ Ade says. His voice is more measured. I can’t imagine he wants me as a house guest, but
perhaps he’s scared to disagree with his girlfriend.

I can’t believe Mum would let me go, unless it’s part of Olav’s therapy – to send me off to ‘have fun’.

Even though it’ll be fun with someone who seems to want me dead! Panic rises again.

‘Mum? MUM?’ Maybe it’s childish to call for my mother, but I don’t want to be alone with these people for a second longer. As I cry out, it feels as though my throat is
being hacked with razor blades and the sound I make is pathetic.

Ade backs away. ‘I’m not sure she can hear you. Mrs Forster? Can you come up here, please?’

‘Alice, you know it’s the right thing. You’d get better so fast with us taking care of you. I’m an excellent nurse,’ Sahara whispers urgently. ‘I promise you
wouldn’t be out of my sight for a single second.’

Mum’s here, finally. ‘Well, can I get you folks a drink or– Oh! Alice, are you all right? You look frightful.’

‘I’m feeling very tired.’

‘We’re going, now, aren’t we?’ Ade says, and there’s a steeliness in his tone that even Sahara can’t miss.

Mum’s leaning forward. ‘Oh, sweetheart, we’ll leave you alone to rest. You’ve done so well, I keep forgetting it’s less than a week since the fire. Is there
anything else I can get you?’

I shake my head, wishing she didn’t look so worried, but my visitors have genuinely made me feel ill. Together they have a kind of toxic energy that drains the life and the hope from the
air.

Like breathing smoke.

Mum kisses me on the cheek. She hustles the others out. I hear her whispering in the hallway.

‘. . . sorry about the long journey but, really, the doctors have warned us that the effects can be very unpredictable . . . probably better to leave the Greenwich idea for now, till we
know she’s definitely on the mend . . . sure you understand.’

But my relief at that is diluted by the knowledge that Sahara is too self-obsessed – or ruthless – to ever take no for an answer.

I have to work really hard to persuade Mum I’m well enough to go to Cara’s after my relapse.

Cara’s mum reassures her on the phone. ‘It’ll be absolutely fine, Bea. I won’t let her out of my sight.’

Except when Cara picks me up, she turns right instead of left onto the main road. Away from her flat.

Towards Lewis’s place.

‘There’s been a change of plan,’ Cara says, seeing my face. ‘Mum’s just come back from Pilates where she managed to do her back in. Which is good news for us, as
she’s self-prescribed some knock-out painkillers. She won’t even notice if a herd of elephants
and
George Clooney do the samba through our place, so we’re safe to take
you to Ground Control. Assuming you’re OK with going there?’

I nod, even though the thought of being alone with Lewis makes me nervous. The last time I trusted him, I almost died.

But that was nothing to do with him. I try to slow my breathing, but when Cara pulls up outside his flat, I feel my heart beating so hard I’m surprised she hasn’t commented.

‘Back in two hours,’ she says, kissing me on the cheek. ‘Or sooner if the mother troll stirs.’

She waits until I knock on the door and Lewis answers.

He’s still drawn, his pupils large and his forehead creased with worry.

‘How are you, Ali?’ he asks. No jokes tonight, I guess.

‘Better every day. Nervous about this, though.’

He nods. ‘Sure. But I feel we’re getting towards the end, don’t you?’

Maybe,
I think. If there is an end. In a strange way, the worst possible result is no ending, nothing conclusive at all. Just spending the rest of
my
life with no more idea
about how my sister ended
hers.

His flat smells of smoke, too. We must both still be oozing it through our skin. But the freshness of all those plants masks the worst of it. Outside, the sun is setting and the living room is
half in darkness.

Is this where everything ends? The Beach, hope, my fight?

‘Do you want me here, or . . .’

I’m aware of Lewis close to me, can hear his steady breathing and sense how tall he is compared to me.

I turn my head. His face is startling in the half-light, all angles and drama. Like a stranger’s.

A good-looking stranger’s.

Bloody hell, Alice, where did that come from?
I turn away again. ‘It’s probably better if you let me try on my own.’

He nods. ‘Call me. I won’t come out until I hear you. Not like last time.’ And he backs out, towards his bedroom, leaving me alone with the bank of screens.

OK. I can do this. I try to convince myself that even though Danny told me he didn’t want me to go back, he didn’t really
mean
it. The Beach might be a different place, but
it’s still somewhere we can
be
together – somewhere that holds the answers I’ve been seeking since Meggie was murdered fifteen months ago.

And she might be back, waiting. She wouldn’t just leave me. Would she?

I log in to my email and my inbox appears. I have to blink constantly so I can read, because my eyes are still not focusing properly. There are dozens of new, dull emails; it’s been a week
since I last logged in. A week since I nearly died.