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sister.’
    ‘No? Who does it come from?’
    She stubs out her cigarette. ‘Ah, take no notice of me. It’s just unsettling, the way you’ve set this record as the longest-serving Visitor. The place feels weird, lately. Like
we’re all heading for a shake-up.’
    ‘How—’
    ‘I’ve got no crystal ball, but it’s not a good feeling.’
    The Beach looks exactly the same: turquoise waves lapping against sand that reflects the sunlight through a billion tiny crystals. I can’t see any sign of trouble brewing.
    ‘So what do I do?’
    ‘You know what, Alice? My hunch is it’s already happening, whether we like it or not. Not a thing we can do. Except live – or die – one day at a time.’
    She stands up, walks towards the bar and fills a silver bucket with ice. Then she takes a bottle of champagne and four glasses, and places them carefully in the bucket.
    ‘Compliments of the bar, of course, mate.’ She hands it over. ‘I know
you
can’t drink it, but the others will want to toast your driving licence. Not often we
have something to celebrate on the Beach.’
    And she gives me a little push on the back, and I pad down the steps towards the shore. I can see my sister, Danny and Tim waiting. Am I doing them more harm than good, with my stories of
outside, of things they can never do? I love Meggie and Danny so much. But maybe that’s exactly the reason I should let them go.
    No. I can’t.
Not yet.
    Danny’s seen me now and he’s waving. His strong bronzed arm as defined as an athlete’s. All of them are so beautiful. They shimmer in the heat haze, like spectral
supermodels.
    Maybe
that’s
what souls look like.

 
     
     
     
8
     
     
     
     
    The florist laughs when I call the next day.
    ‘Sorry. We’d never reveal the name of the person who sent the flowers. Well, except to the police, I guess. You know how priests take an oath of silence? We do too.’
    Would she change her mind if I told her why it matters, who my sister was, what happened to her and her boyfriend, why I need to know.
    Instead, I say, ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.
Really
important.’
    But the girl on the end – she sounds my age – is still in la-la florist land, where the worst that can happen in life is that your lilies droop or your roses get greenfly. ‘Ha,
ha, that’s what they all say. Valentine’s Day is the pits. Husbands and boyfriends calling up because their other halves got flowers they never sent them.’
    I ring off. It
had
to be Sahara, didn’t it? Except why not put her name to the flowers? It’s not like her not to want the attention, my undying gratitude.
    Could I have got it wrong? Her guilt is such a certainty for me now that maybe I’m overlooking something – or someone. Ade knew my sister, but only through Sahara. And Lewis
recognised her because they both grew up around here, but he never actually talked to her.
    The only other possibility is some random stalker who fell for my sister after seeing her on TV. Which makes no sense, either. It was Zoe who told me that indifference doesn’t turn people
into killers – that I should be afraid of the people who adored Meggie.
    And the one thing I know for sure is that Sahara adored my sister. Maybe I’ll find out how much this morning.
    Everyone knows I passed now. Cara texted congratulations from Bermuda, and Lewis called an hour after my test. ‘I don’t like to say I told you so, but I did, didn’t I,
Ali?’
    I promised to take him out soon, if his street cred would survive a trip in a Ka.
    ‘It’s OK, I’ll put on a ski mask. Have you decided where your maiden voyage will take you yet?’
    I have, of course. But I didn’t tell him.
    Mum takes a photo of me as I leave the house and get into my car –
my
car – for my first drive, because ‘it’s one of those landmark moments, sweetheart.
Don’t get lost. Or drive too fast. Or too slowly. Just . . .’
    I put my hand through the open window. ‘Be careful?