Soul Fire

crying and lack of sleep and I’m desperate to leave. Though even that’s not logical, because if
someone did attack Zoe, then it must have been one of the people coming home to London with me.
    The police are excessively polite, the way teachers are when they secretly want to scream at you for driving them mad.
    When they call out my name, I have to remind myself to breathe. A male and a female detective show me into a cramped office at the hostel. I’m the last one in.
    ‘Were you drinking before you went to Via Laietana?’ the woman asks. I think she’s already decided the answer is yes.
    ‘We went to a bar, but I didn’t drink. The others had beers. Nothing stronger. And Zoe didn’t drink anything there. She arrived late, so we went straight to the
festival.’
    The man looks sceptical. ‘So you are telling us everyone was not drunk when they left the Irish bar?’
    ‘I can’t talk for the others, but I was definitely sober. I thought the fireworks would be a buzz . . . exciting enough without having to have a drink. Zoe herself said it could be
quite edgy.’
    ‘It is perfectly safe,’ the woman snaps back, ‘or at least it is if you are raised with respect for fire.’
    My hand goes up to the burned, raw patch on my scalp. ‘I know. Zoe was very insistent about being sensible.’
    She sighs. ‘Your friends told me that Zoe was covered up. Yet she has sustained an injury to her face. How would you explain that?’
    ‘I can’t explain that.’
    ‘There must be a reason, if she wasn’t drunk.’
    ‘Look, I just want to go home.’
    Except I know they won’t let me go yet, will they? There’s still Meggie to talk about. There’s no way Sahara would have got through her interview without a long, emotional
explanation of what we’re doing here and how many tragedies have affected her .
    Unless she kept her mouth shut because she has something to hide . . .
    The two detectives exchange a glance. ‘We have no reason to make you stay any longer,’ says the man. He sounds as though he wishes he could lock us all up and throw away the key.
    ‘I can go?’
    ‘You have a flight this afternoon. You can take it, since none of you appears to have anything useful to tell us about the accident.’
    ‘Incident,’ the woman corrects him. But I can tell from their tone that they’ve already made a decision: drunken, drugged Brit falls over. End of story.
    ‘And Zoe? How is she?’
    ‘That is a matter for her next of kin. There is nothing more we are permitted to tell you.’
    ‘But we can’t just go home and leave her with no one to look after her.’
    The woman stands up, opens the door to get rid of me. ‘Her parents are flying in around now. It’s up to them if they’ll see you at the hospital. If I was them, I am not certain
I would want a reminder of what happened to my daughter when her friends were not looking.’
    The others have waited for me outside the office with our bags.
    ‘We thought we’d go to the hospital before we head for the airport,’ Cara says.
    I’d hoped to go onto Soul Beach, to see if Javier has gone, to find out if anyone saw him leave. But it’s too late to make a difference there.
    Maybe it’s too late for Zoe, too.
    We’re dodging bikes and skateboarders on the boardwalk, pulling our trolley cases behind us. It’s hotter than yesterday and already the beach is packed. My skin seems to be burning
and my luggage feels heavier, even though I haven’t bothered with souvenirs. I don’t need plastic castanets or Barcelona mugs to remember every detail.
    I think of Javier, and Gabe, and there’s a lump in my throat.
    I’m walking slightly behind the others, watching them. Sahara keeps sighing, and I want to ask her outright: was this you? But I can’t, and so with every step, I get angrier and
angrier. Halfway along the shore, I realise I’m probably angriest with myself.
    I let this happen.
    Even if Zoe’s parents are willing to let us see her, I’m not sure we deserve it.
    ‘Keep up, Alice,’ Cara slows down as we approach the hospital. She reaches for my hand. ‘I know this is tough. Especially for you. But it’s not our fault, is it?
Accidents happen. When we get home, it’ll all get back to normal.’
    ‘Not for Zoe.’
    ‘No. That’s true. But you can’t feel responsible for everyone and everything, hon.’
    Except I do, because the rest of the world seems untrustworthy now. The detectives investigating Meggie’s murder have two