is something else.
I suppose it could be a lust to be alive again.
I force myself to look away. ‘Hello, there.’ I say to them all.
Javier doesn’t try to hide his boredom, but Danny smiles. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from your sister. Good to see you here. Hope you’re not too freaked out by . . .
well, by the obvious freakiness of the whole set-up.’
‘Sit down,’ says Triti, making space for me on the steps. ‘Megan’s so pleased that you’ve shown up, finally. She was starting to think you’d never reply to
her messages.’
‘Completely understandable, though,’ says Danny. ‘Don’t feel bad, Alice. I tried to contact my little brother the same way but I never heard from him.’
‘There was never any point in me trying to contact my brother,’ says Triti. ‘He never liked me when I was alive.’
I look at Javier. He shrugs. ‘Only child.’
I nod. It figures. ‘So, is it only sisters and brothers that are allowed to come?’
‘Well, there’s no handbook when you arrive, but I asked around,’ says Danny.
‘One way of passing the long lazy days,’ says Javier.
‘I think it can be anyone you have a strong bond with, who also happens to be young,’ Danny explains, ‘otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed onto the Beach.’
‘We do not want to see wrinkles or anything that sags ,’ says Javier.
‘Ignore him,’ Danny says. ‘We all do. Seriously, though, the bond seems to be stronger with blood relatives. People have tried to contact friends, but none have shown up so we
don’t know whether it ever works.’
Something else occurs to me. ‘I haven’t seen any laptops here.’
My sister smiles. ‘It’s a bit more basic than that.’ She nods back towards the beach, where a couple of girls are standing by the water. One is holding a bottle, the other is
trying to scribble something onto a piece of paper that flutters in the breeze. She folds up the paper, kisses it once, and then takes the bottle from her friend. The note goes inside, then the
cork, and after another kiss, she tosses the bottle into the water. It bobs about for a while, before a wave sweeps it away. The girl stares at the sea long after the bottle disappears.
‘Messages in bottles?’ I ask.
And then I remember how Meggie’s hand-writing looked so odd in that final email. Almost as though the ink had run.
‘The Management’s idea of a joke,’ says Javier.
Danny ignores him. ‘Mostly we never hear anything. Maybe they get lost in the oceanic post. More likely our loved ones can’t believe the messages are real. But occasionally a bottle
washes back up with a reply.’
‘Like yours did,’ Meggie explains.
‘We think it has to do with the depth of the connection between the Guest and the person they’re trying to contact. The deeper it goes, the more chance there is of them washing up
here.’
‘Yeah, such a deep connection that most Visitors leave Soul Beach after a week, maybe two,’ Javier says flatly.
‘Javier, don’t,’ says my sister.
He shrugs. ‘Better she knows, huh?’
‘Why do they leave?’ I ask.
They all look awkward now. Triti frowns. ‘Maybe they’re banned by the site for breaking the rules. Or for making a Guest unhappy. That happens sometimes.’
‘Yeah, or maybe the bond isn’t as deep as they thought. Maybe they don’t have anything in common any more. It must be hard to take, seeing us living in paradise, while they
have to deal with all the boring responsibilities of the real world,’ Javier suggests. ‘And, anyway, we are not very entertaining to watch. All we do is screw, swim and sit around
talking crap.’
‘Speak for yourself, Javier,’ Meggie says. ‘You’re a grumpy sod.’
Javier stands up. ‘Maybe I need more sleep .’ And he laughs drily, then walks off towards the sea.
‘Why was that funny?’
‘We don’t need sleep at all,’ Danny says. ‘Sure, the sun rises and sets, and then most of us do lie on the beach or in a
I suppose it could be a lust to be alive again.
I force myself to look away. ‘Hello, there.’ I say to them all.
Javier doesn’t try to hide his boredom, but Danny smiles. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from your sister. Good to see you here. Hope you’re not too freaked out by . . .
well, by the obvious freakiness of the whole set-up.’
‘Sit down,’ says Triti, making space for me on the steps. ‘Megan’s so pleased that you’ve shown up, finally. She was starting to think you’d never reply to
her messages.’
‘Completely understandable, though,’ says Danny. ‘Don’t feel bad, Alice. I tried to contact my little brother the same way but I never heard from him.’
‘There was never any point in me trying to contact my brother,’ says Triti. ‘He never liked me when I was alive.’
I look at Javier. He shrugs. ‘Only child.’
I nod. It figures. ‘So, is it only sisters and brothers that are allowed to come?’
‘Well, there’s no handbook when you arrive, but I asked around,’ says Danny.
‘One way of passing the long lazy days,’ says Javier.
‘I think it can be anyone you have a strong bond with, who also happens to be young,’ Danny explains, ‘otherwise they wouldn’t be allowed onto the Beach.’
‘We do not want to see wrinkles or anything that sags ,’ says Javier.
‘Ignore him,’ Danny says. ‘We all do. Seriously, though, the bond seems to be stronger with blood relatives. People have tried to contact friends, but none have shown up so we
don’t know whether it ever works.’
Something else occurs to me. ‘I haven’t seen any laptops here.’
My sister smiles. ‘It’s a bit more basic than that.’ She nods back towards the beach, where a couple of girls are standing by the water. One is holding a bottle, the other is
trying to scribble something onto a piece of paper that flutters in the breeze. She folds up the paper, kisses it once, and then takes the bottle from her friend. The note goes inside, then the
cork, and after another kiss, she tosses the bottle into the water. It bobs about for a while, before a wave sweeps it away. The girl stares at the sea long after the bottle disappears.
‘Messages in bottles?’ I ask.
And then I remember how Meggie’s hand-writing looked so odd in that final email. Almost as though the ink had run.
‘The Management’s idea of a joke,’ says Javier.
Danny ignores him. ‘Mostly we never hear anything. Maybe they get lost in the oceanic post. More likely our loved ones can’t believe the messages are real. But occasionally a bottle
washes back up with a reply.’
‘Like yours did,’ Meggie explains.
‘We think it has to do with the depth of the connection between the Guest and the person they’re trying to contact. The deeper it goes, the more chance there is of them washing up
here.’
‘Yeah, such a deep connection that most Visitors leave Soul Beach after a week, maybe two,’ Javier says flatly.
‘Javier, don’t,’ says my sister.
He shrugs. ‘Better she knows, huh?’
‘Why do they leave?’ I ask.
They all look awkward now. Triti frowns. ‘Maybe they’re banned by the site for breaking the rules. Or for making a Guest unhappy. That happens sometimes.’
‘Yeah, or maybe the bond isn’t as deep as they thought. Maybe they don’t have anything in common any more. It must be hard to take, seeing us living in paradise, while they
have to deal with all the boring responsibilities of the real world,’ Javier suggests. ‘And, anyway, we are not very entertaining to watch. All we do is screw, swim and sit around
talking crap.’
‘Speak for yourself, Javier,’ Meggie says. ‘You’re a grumpy sod.’
Javier stands up. ‘Maybe I need more sleep .’ And he laughs drily, then walks off towards the sea.
‘Why was that funny?’
‘We don’t need sleep at all,’ Danny says. ‘Sure, the sun rises and sets, and then most of us do lie on the beach or in a
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