can’t.’
Her wording is odd. Too precise, as though she’s talking to a lawyer. ‘Zoe, if you have any suspicions, please tell me . . .’ I lean in closer but she recoils, and her hood
drops to her shoulders.
‘Oh, my God, Zoe!’
Zoe’s red hair isn’t red anymore. She’s completely bald. Her skull glows harsh white, just skin and bone.
She cringes, then closes her eyes. Children do that when they want to be invisible. ‘It . . . happened after I found your sister. Within a fortnight. Less, even.’
‘Zoe, please. Keeping this to yourself is making you ill. You can trust me. I promise.’
She shakes her head. ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved? No. You’re wrong, Alice. You don’t want to end up like me. Accept that your sister’s gone. Move on. While
that’s still an option.’ And she pulls the hood up over her head again, stands up, and almost knocks over her empty glass as she pushes past the table.
I try to follow her, but there’s a hand on my arm.
‘Alice, my best friend in all the world. Are you having a good time?’ Cara’s drunk.
‘I’m not feeling very good.’
‘You want to go already ?’
‘You don’t have to come with me, don’t worry. I just need some time to think.’
‘Oh, Alice, you’ve spent the last ten months thinking about what happened. What is there left to think about?’
I could give her a long list: murders and mirages, dead people who live forever, living people obsessed with the dead.
The party guests are swaying and singing. This isn’t the right place for me to be now. My head’s full of unformed theories and fears that I can’t share with anyone, and it
makes me feel so lonely.
‘I’ll get a cab. Mum gave me the money.’
Cara tries to smile. ‘No. No, don’t worry. Let’s split. I’ve seen what I came to see!’ And she glances over at Ade.
‘What about Matt? You’ve been flirting with him for hours.’
She turns and smiles at him. He mimes holding a glass, offering her another drink. ‘He’s cute. But Ade is so much more interesting. Next stop, Barcelona!’
‘Barcelona? You can’t go with them, Cara.’
‘Who says? Mum won’t mind. I’ll tell her I’m thinking of doing Spanish at uni.’
Someone turns the music up. Ade is on the dance floor, doing salsa moves. I wouldn’t have expected that of him. I thought he was sensitive, introverted, like Tim, or Lewis.
Lewis .
He’s the one person I trust to listen without pushing me further than I want to go.
‘Cara . . . If I wanted to leave but not actually go home yet . . .’ I leave the question unasked.
She smiles at me. ‘Alice Forster, what are you plotting?’
I shrug. ‘I was thinking of dropping in on Lewis.’
For a moment, she doesn’t respond. Then she laughs. ‘Oh! I knew you two were perfect for each other. No wonder you weren’t interested in those boys tonight.’
‘No, it’s not like that . . . ’
But she’s not listening. ‘Remember. I told you that you’d find someone who’d convince you there was more to life than moping around. Lewis could be that
someone.’
It’s simpler to agree with her, even though I hate lying. ‘You never know. I’ll text him and then is it OK if I call Mum, and tell her I’m staying over with you?’
‘Sure. You’ve been my alibi often enough. Just promise me one thing . . .’
‘Mmm?’
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ And then Cara starts to cackle like an old lady, because that doesn’t rule anything out at all.
22
Lewis doesn’t sound remotely surprised when I call and ask if I can come over. Maybe he’s always getting midnight calls from damsels in cyber-distress.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he says, as he opens the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting company.’
But the flat isn’t messy. All the candles are lit, and there are spotlights under the plants, which makes them look fairytale green. Though some things don’t change: there’s
the usual collection of Diet Coke cans
Her wording is odd. Too precise, as though she’s talking to a lawyer. ‘Zoe, if you have any suspicions, please tell me . . .’ I lean in closer but she recoils, and her hood
drops to her shoulders.
‘Oh, my God, Zoe!’
Zoe’s red hair isn’t red anymore. She’s completely bald. Her skull glows harsh white, just skin and bone.
She cringes, then closes her eyes. Children do that when they want to be invisible. ‘It . . . happened after I found your sister. Within a fortnight. Less, even.’
‘Zoe, please. Keeping this to yourself is making you ill. You can trust me. I promise.’
She shakes her head. ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved? No. You’re wrong, Alice. You don’t want to end up like me. Accept that your sister’s gone. Move on. While
that’s still an option.’ And she pulls the hood up over her head again, stands up, and almost knocks over her empty glass as she pushes past the table.
I try to follow her, but there’s a hand on my arm.
‘Alice, my best friend in all the world. Are you having a good time?’ Cara’s drunk.
‘I’m not feeling very good.’
‘You want to go already ?’
‘You don’t have to come with me, don’t worry. I just need some time to think.’
‘Oh, Alice, you’ve spent the last ten months thinking about what happened. What is there left to think about?’
I could give her a long list: murders and mirages, dead people who live forever, living people obsessed with the dead.
The party guests are swaying and singing. This isn’t the right place for me to be now. My head’s full of unformed theories and fears that I can’t share with anyone, and it
makes me feel so lonely.
‘I’ll get a cab. Mum gave me the money.’
Cara tries to smile. ‘No. No, don’t worry. Let’s split. I’ve seen what I came to see!’ And she glances over at Ade.
‘What about Matt? You’ve been flirting with him for hours.’
She turns and smiles at him. He mimes holding a glass, offering her another drink. ‘He’s cute. But Ade is so much more interesting. Next stop, Barcelona!’
‘Barcelona? You can’t go with them, Cara.’
‘Who says? Mum won’t mind. I’ll tell her I’m thinking of doing Spanish at uni.’
Someone turns the music up. Ade is on the dance floor, doing salsa moves. I wouldn’t have expected that of him. I thought he was sensitive, introverted, like Tim, or Lewis.
Lewis .
He’s the one person I trust to listen without pushing me further than I want to go.
‘Cara . . . If I wanted to leave but not actually go home yet . . .’ I leave the question unasked.
She smiles at me. ‘Alice Forster, what are you plotting?’
I shrug. ‘I was thinking of dropping in on Lewis.’
For a moment, she doesn’t respond. Then she laughs. ‘Oh! I knew you two were perfect for each other. No wonder you weren’t interested in those boys tonight.’
‘No, it’s not like that . . . ’
But she’s not listening. ‘Remember. I told you that you’d find someone who’d convince you there was more to life than moping around. Lewis could be that
someone.’
It’s simpler to agree with her, even though I hate lying. ‘You never know. I’ll text him and then is it OK if I call Mum, and tell her I’m staying over with you?’
‘Sure. You’ve been my alibi often enough. Just promise me one thing . . .’
‘Mmm?’
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ And then Cara starts to cackle like an old lady, because that doesn’t rule anything out at all.
22
Lewis doesn’t sound remotely surprised when I call and ask if I can come over. Maybe he’s always getting midnight calls from damsels in cyber-distress.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he says, as he opens the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting company.’
But the flat isn’t messy. All the candles are lit, and there are spotlights under the plants, which makes them look fairytale green. Though some things don’t change: there’s
the usual collection of Diet Coke cans
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