Soul Storm (31 page)

‘Lewis, you’re bleeding!’ There are tiny circular splashes of red against the white marble tiles. I stand up and see a bloody mess on the back of his head. ‘Oh, God. He
needs help.’

‘It’s OK, Ali,’ he says, but his voice sounds weaker. ‘I think I fell quite heavily when Ade first came for me. Funny, it doesn’t really hurt. It’s more that
I am really rubbish when it comes to the sight of blood.’

The manager is calling out to a minion, who unwraps the first aid kit and applies a dressing to the base of Lewis’s skull. He winces and seems to be turning paler by the second.

‘You do have insurance, right?’ the manager asks as we hear a siren outside.

Lewis nods.

‘That’s good. We have ordered a private ambulance to take you to the clinic all the expats use.’

And then she switches to shouting at the policeman as a couple of paramedics bustle the two of us into the back of the ambulance. Lewis insists on walking, but has to be helped up the steps and
agrees to lie on the stretcher.

As the ambulance moves off with us inside, I see the blue lights of a police car flashing through the smoked glass behind us. They’re following closely. I try not to think about the
future, not to wonder what the penalty is for murder here in Thailand.

Ade killed my sister, killed Tim, tried to kill Zoe and Lewis and me
.

And I have killed him
.

It doesn’t seem real yet.

‘You OK?’ I ask Lewis.

He gives me a weak thumbs-up. ‘No worse than an average migraine. But it’s better if I close my eyes and hold your hand.’

There’s a paramedic in the back with us, but she’s checked his pulse and then settled down to send texts on her phone, so I guess he’s going to be OK.

Unlike Ade
.

As the siren of our police escort shrieks relentlessly, I replay the events of the last two hours – and then the last thirteen months. Enormous chunks of it make no sense. I’m
gripping Lewis’s hand but as I look down at his face, eyes closed, neck red and swollen, it occurs to me: all the parts that don’t add up involve
him
.

How did Meggie know Lewis?

Why was she emailing him asking for help – and did he see her before she died?

What possible reason could he have had to lie to me for so long?

My throat is dry and my cheek stings.
Stay calm, Alice
. Focus on the important thing: I know he’s not the killer. I know he kissed me like I was the only girl on earth. He thinks
I’m something special.

Unless . . . he is only with me because I’m the closest substitute for Meggie now she’s gone?

I feel him staring at me.

‘Ali, I have to explain,’ he murmurs.

‘No. Don’t try to talk now—’

‘I must,’ he says, pushing himself up slightly onto his elbows. His skin is white-green, and he’s having trouble focusing. But as the paramedic hovers, he forces a smile and
she goes back to her phone.

‘You want to know about me and Meggie, right?’ he whispers.

Me and Meggie
.

I’ve never felt so excluded. If we hadn’t kissed, maybe it would have been easier . . .

Except, I’ve been lying to myself about how I feel about him for a long time, since way before this. I was so loyal to Danny that I managed to kid myself into believing I only wanted Lewis
as a friend.

I force myself to look at Lewis. ‘Right.’

‘First of all,’ he says, ‘there was no
me and Meggie
. Not as far as I was concerned, anyway.’

I look up. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Meggie was a friend of my mate’s girlfriend. That’s how we met.’

‘Even though you’ve always told me that you never met? That you only half recognised her?’

He sighs. ‘Just listen, please, Ali. Like I always have when you’ve told me impossible stories. It’s a hard enough thing to explain, even without a head injury.’

I suppose he has a point. ‘Go on.’

‘We met at a party when we were in Year Twelve. In the Easter holidays. We chatted for a bit. I thought she was averagely pretty, I suppose. Ali, you look like you’re about to
interrupt . . .’

I was about to tell him that no one ever dared call my sister
averagely
pretty, but I stay silent.

‘So, yes, Meggie was pretty. But we had nothing in common. She was chatting away about her auditions, how she was going to college but really wanted to be a singer. I know it’s not
very charitable of me but I thought she was an airhead. A wannabe. And that was fine because I thought she’d probably write me off as a geek and everyone would be happy.

‘Except when we got back to school, my mate kept telling me that I had a secret admirer. I mean, me? I thought he was taking the piss but then we went to the pub one night and there she
was. Meggie. A cosy foursome. My mate and his girlfriend made some excuse and then it was an even cosier twosome.

‘It was . . . well, a hell of a surprise. I was flattered, sure. I saw the looks we were getting in the bar. Other men wondering how come I was with someone so out of my league.

‘But even though I knew I’d be the envy of my mates, I couldn’t make myself like her, Ali. She was interested in everything I wasn’t and vice versa. I could never have
told her about hackers or my job. Her eyes would glaze over and . . .’

‘You thought she was a dumb blonde?’

Lewis smiles sadly. ‘Maybe it was reverse snobbery. But I could never have talked to her the way I talk to you – about life and ideas and whatever comes into my head. I always know
you’ll be interested because you’re interested in me and what I think. Whereas Meggie . . .’

The ambulance turns a corner and we sway to the right. We’re hurrying. Maybe the driver thinks Lewis is in a worse way than he looks.

‘Ali, the only reason she was interested is because I wasn’t bewitched by her, unlike ninety-nine per cent of guys. Have you noticed how cats always find the one person in the room
that doesn’t like them and pester them? It felt like that. She wasn’t interested in me, but in the challenge.’

I shake my head. ‘No, because the person she fell in love with at uni was nothing like her, either. Tim was quiet and maybe a bit geeky.’

Lewis nods. ‘OK. I’m a judgemental prick. But I promised you the truth and this is it. I bought her the one drink and then told her I had revision to do. It was the lamest excuse in
the book, especially because I’d already decided I wasn’t going to college so did no work whatsoever for my exams.’

Of all the things I was expecting, it wasn’t this awkward blind date – my sister unable to believe that someone wasn’t falling for her charms, Lewis trying to find a way to
give her the brush-off.

And then there’s the stuff he said just now about how the two of
us
talk. It makes me feel less hollowed out.

‘Should have been the end of it. But your sister was quite . . . determined. I’d see her at parties, or she’d turn up at the pub with another guy. Or she’d be doing this
twirly thing with her hair or she’d stare at me a bit too long.’ He pulls a face. ‘It was embarrassing. And it had nothing to do with me, really. It was her little
game.’

‘And then?’

‘And then it was autumn and everyone went to college except me, and that was fine because the business was making money, I got a car, I could do what I wanted. I forgot about your sister.
Even better, she forgot about me.’

I want to leave it here, but I can’t. ‘Except it’s not the end of the story, is it, Lewis? I found an email from her on your bed. She sounded desperate to talk to
you.’

The ambulance is slowing down, now, and the police siren has been turned off. Through the dark glass window I can see an illuminated H sign.

‘I’d printed it off to show you. I kept waiting for the right time, but I’m a coward.’

I think of the Lewis who fought so hard against Ade. I wouldn’t call him a coward.
‘This
is the right time, Lewis. But hurry.’

‘It was April, a few weeks before she died. I got a voicemail message. Some texts. Casual at first, but they got more intense. So weird. I knew she’d been on that TV show. She was
all over the papers. Wasn’t she too famous for me now? Plus I’d seen a picture of her in the paper with some boyfriend.

‘One day I got so pissed off that I answered instead of letting it go to voicemail. I was about to tell her to get lost when I realised she was crying down the phone.’

He looks away. The ambulance is braking.

‘What was wrong?’

‘She said she was being followed and her email had been hacked. She suspected her college friend but she wasn’t sure. There was no one she could trust. She wanted me to come to
Greenwich, see if there was anything I could find out, but I . . .’

‘What?’

‘I thought she was crying wolf, Alice – that this damsel in distress act was just to play me off against some other boyfriend. I said no.’

The implications of what he’s said hit me. My sister needed help. He turned his back on her. ‘You could have—’

He sighs. ‘I
know
, Ali. There isn’t a day I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t said no. If I’d listened to her. If I’d visited Greenwich. . .’ His
voice is no more than a whisper now. ‘When I heard the news that she’d been killed, I was devastated. I couldn’t see how I could ever put it right.

‘But then your ex’s brother came to me, told me that Meggie’s sister was getting hassly emails. I thought . . . here’s a way to redeem myself. More than that, protect
you
. I thought it’d almost be like a punishment for me to spend time with Meggie’s sister, because I thought you’d be like her – sweet but silly. We’d have
nothing in common.’

The ambulance doors open, and I’m blinded by the bright lights from the lobby of the emergency department.

‘I had to lie about knowing Meggie. You’d never have trusted me if I’d explained what happened. And then you’d have been in danger. Ade would . . .’

The paramedic is talking over our heads to an orderly who’s taking one end of the stretcher. She touches my arm and points outside, wanting me out of the way while they move Lewis.

I don’t move.

‘You should have told me, Lewis. Like I told you about the Beach.’

He nods. ‘I was going to. I hated lying. But then something else happened.’

‘What?’

Lewis takes a deep breath, then his hands fly to his throat. He must be bruised, or worse, from when Ade tried to strangle him. ‘I realised I was falling in love with you, Ali. I was
falling for you because you’re nothing like your sister: not silly or irritating or lightweight or pretty.’

Not pretty
. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. The paramedic is getting more insistent, tugging on my arm.

‘Not pretty.
Beautiful
, Ali. You’re the last person I should have fallen for, but also the first girl I’ve ever loved. So now do you see why I couldn’t tell you?
Why it would have ruined absolutely everything?’

I stare at him.

‘I knew that the minute I told you the truth you’d hate me. And with good reason. Because clever clogs Lewis Tomlinson failed when it really mattered. I let your sister down. How
could you ever trust me not to do the same to you?’

I back out of the ambulance, tripping on the last step.

And I run.

Into the lobby, through the glaring white reception. I see a sign for the toilet, race inside and lock myself in a cubicle. Then I throw up so hard it’s like all the anger and fear and
guilt are spilling out of me.

Though, if that were the case, I’d feel better now it’s over. But I really, really don’t.

When I let myself out of the cubicle, there’s an embarrassed-looking Thai policeman standing guard. I’m a suspect, after all. No, worse than that. A killer.

I can’t deny it.

‘Can I wash my face?’ I say to the man. He doesn’t reply – I guess he doesn’t speak English. I go ahead anyway. The cold tap dispenses hot water that makes my skin
even redder.

I stare at my reflection, the flushed cheeks, the cut that’s started bleeding again. And my eyes – the windows of the soul, supposedly.

Tonight, my soul darkened forever when I ended a man’s life.

Can you tell just by looking at me?

No. I couldn’t tell Ade was a murderer by looking in
his
eyes. I imagine his face, dead pale eyes staring ahead, full of fury at being denied more time to kill.

Am I the same as Ade, now? We’ve both taken a life.

‘OK, I’m done,’ I say to the officer, even though I know he can’t understand me. ‘Let’s go.’

He opens the door and ushers me through, his face set in a mask of mild disgust. I bet I stink of blood and sweat.

The hospital reception could be anywhere in the world, with signs in English. There’s no sign of Lewis. He’s probably being examined.

I feel totally alone. What is going to happen to me?

The policeman weaves in between the padded blue chairs, past an empty water cooler, and shows me into a small office with a desk and a filing cabinet but no windows. Another policeman is
standing guard outside, and inside a Thai woman dressed in a white tunic and trousers tells me to sit down. As I do, my legs go wobbly and I half fall into the black leather chair.

The woman and the policeman stay standing.

‘I am one of the emergency doctors here,’ the woman says in American-accented English. ‘Your friend is being examined in another part of the hospital. This is a detective from
the local police who is anxious to question you. However, it is my responsibility to ensure you are well enough for that. First, do you believe yourself to have been injured during whatever has
taken place?’

‘No.’ Then I look down at my wrists. I can’t feel any pain but the skin is red, with open sores that ooze blood where Ade tied me down. Tears prick at my eyes as I remember how
that felt: not physically but
inside
. ‘Except there.’

Both of them lean in to peer at my arms. Maybe it’s my imagination but the detective’s expression softens a little.