Soul Fire (23 page)

What I say when I get there is the hard part.

I take the first right: Sant Miquel. No, that’s not right. I go to the end, take a left: Ginebra. No, that’s wrong too. Right again. I’m trying to keep track, but I feel like
I’m already losing my bearings and the heat makes my head feel woolly.

Carrer del Baluart.

I take another right. This feels familiar, now, although all the streets look similar.

And then I realise why it’s familiar: I’m back on Carrer de Balboa.

I know it’s just a coincidence. And yet, Javier is always telling me he does not believe in coincidences. So perhaps there is a reason I’ve ended up here. I
do
have unfinished
business at Dulce. Last time I made things worse for Gabe. Perhaps I should seize this chance to try to make things better again.

What was it Javier said?
You could make him listen, Alice. You could tell him how I died. . .

I walk fast, so I don’t have time to change my mind. But the café’s shutters are already down. I lean against them, listening for signs of life. Is the music coming from
inside? I hit the metal with my fist. Sweat drips down my forehead. I’ve had nothing to drink today except coffee. The shady street is getting darker – or is it that I’m about to
black out?

I lean against the shutters, my face touching the grille. The metal smells rusty. Like blood.

‘Gabe?’ I call out. ‘Gabe? If you’re in there, let me in.’

The shutter moves, suddenly. I only just get out of the way in time.

‘You!’ says Gabe. ‘I should have known it was you. Play-acting being ill are you now? What a bloody attention seeker!’

He’s about to close the shutter again.

‘Wait! Gabe. Please listen. Um. Karina . . . Karina’s the middle sister. She had a toy that her father cut into pieces.’ I try to remember more. ‘And Rosa sings . . .
sang to Javier when he was hurt. She’s the baby.’

Gabe stares at me. ‘Is this another bloody trick?’

‘No trick. Please give me a second to explain. I can’t hurt you anymore than I have already, can I?’

He’s thinking. Then, finally, he opens the door a little wider. I go inside, and he locks the door behind me and pulls the shutter halfway down. The cafe´ is almost dark, except for
the tea lights still burning on the tables.

‘I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a big fiesta tonight,’ Gabe says. ‘Too many memories.’

‘Because J died on the night of the fiesta, didn’t he?’

‘You think you’re clever, don’t you, Alice? But you could have found that out online.’

‘You don’t
have
to believe me,’ I say. ‘You just have to listen.’

‘I don’t know what the hell to believe. But you know about me and J – which is more than anyone else did in Barcelona.’

It takes me a few seconds to work out what he means. ‘You kept it secret?’

Gabe nods. ‘Not my choice, but with his father being the way he was, I understood why. It’s less a big city, more a series of villages. Hell, I even call him
Jay
the
Australian way because the Spanish don’t pronounce their Js like that. To make certain no one local could ever make the connection between him and me.’

‘So if no one knew you were together, then when he died . . .’

He nods. ‘Right. When he died, no one told me. He didn’t show up for the fiesta. I spent forty-eight hours getting angrier and angrier. He used to freak out, sometimes, about how his
dad would react if he found out. I thought he was just having one of those moments.’

‘Oh, Gabe . . .’

‘Then I picked up the paper. He’d been dead all that time. That’s why I’m not a believer in messages from the bloody afterlife. I should have
known
. If he was
trying to get a message to anyone, it’d be me, not some little English kid.’

I say nothing.

‘But here you are, eh, Alice?’ The cynicism’s gone. All I can hear is sadness.

We sit there in the dark as more bangers explode outside. ‘Here I am.’

‘His dad was old-school. They came here from the countryside down south, and his dad brought values that would make Hitler seem moderate. I thought that’s why J ended it. He’d
realised he couldn’t ever be happy living this double life.’

‘Couldn’t the two of you have gone somewhere else?’

Gabe sighs. ‘Don’t you think I tried to persuade him? There was Australia for a start. Or anywhere in Europe. I didn’t care. I just wanted . . .’

I think of Danny, and how torn
I
feel between the Beach and ‘real’ life. Yet the Beach always wins. ‘To be with him?’ I finish for Gabe.

‘Anywhere would have been home with him there. But he wouldn’t leave his sisters. I thought maybe he might go when they were older. And then . . .’

‘He didn’t kill himself.’

‘No? How did he tell you that, Alice? One knock for yes, two for no?’

I ignore the sarcasm. ‘He was fighting with his father. It went too far. Javier was pushed, and there was no barrier on the roof. Nothing to stop him falling.’

For a moment Gabe does nothing. Then he punches the flint wall so hard that a stone falls away, but he doesn’t seem to feel any pain.

‘The
bastard
.’ He pulls out a chair, sits down, head in hands.

‘Have you ever met his father?’

‘No. I . . . I did see where it happened. The address was in the paper. There was nothing there, not even flowers. I went to the beach and collected a bunch of shells, and I scattered them
where I thought he must have landed, on the street. Bet you think that’s dumb. They’d have been smashed to pieces by a moped within minutes.’

‘Nothing’s dumb when you’re grieving.’

He looks at me. ‘I looked you up online, Alice. Your sister. So you know how it feels, don’t you?’

I reach for his hand and he curls his fingers round mine the way a baby does, and won’t let go.

‘I’m going there now,’ I say. ‘To Javier’s place. I want to see if his father’s still there and if his sisters are all right.’

It’s a risk, telling him. If Gabe didn’t already think I was crazy, I bet he does now.

But his fingers stay tight around mine. ‘And what will you do if they’re not?’

I don’t have an answer. Instead I say, ‘I’d really like it if you could come with me. I think it’s the right thing. For both of us.’

You’re leading me on a merry dance, Alice.

It’s too hot for this. Up and down the backstreets of this grubby, beautiful city, as though you’re searching for something you’d lost. Or someone.

Who are you looking for? Me, perhaps?

All you have to do is look behind you.

It’s lucky Gabe knows where he’s going because I am totally lost now. Every street looks the same: the tall buildings, the washing lines, the kids playing in the
road.

Except that the kids in this street might be Javier’s sisters.

‘I think Karina would be eleven, Rosa eight,’ I say, and Gabe gives me an odd look but doesn’t ask how I could know that.

There is a girl of about eight leaning against the building, watching kids in Barca football shirts kicking a ball around. She’s facing the sea so I can only see the back of her head,
silhouetted against the setting sun. She has long dark curls and for a moment I imagine she’s holding a new cat toy, to replace the one Javier said his father had cut up out of spite. Except
that was Karina’s toy, wasn’t it?

Then the ‘toy’ moves and I realise it’s a young ginger cat.

‘Could that be Rosa?’ I ask Gabe. He doesn’t answer, and when I turn back to repeat the question, I realise he’s staring at the girl so hard that she must sense it too.
She looks round, right at us.

She’s striking rather than pretty. It’s not her features that tell me I’m right, though. It’s her gaze. Pure defiance.

‘Jesus. She’s the spit of him,’ he says.

‘Do we talk to her?’

Before we can decide, she puts the cat down and it trots behind her as she walks into the apartment building, out of sight.

‘Did you see the way she walked?’ Gabe whispers. There was a self-assurance about her that reminds us both of her big brother.

I try not to get my hopes up.

‘I was expecting her to be more . . . more submissive, I suppose,’ I say. ‘After what Javier told me about their home life.’

‘Me too.’

We want to wait, but there’s only so long you can hang around a corner in this neighbourhood without attracting attention. We find a bench in a small square at the top of the street and
watch from there.

The sky is still bright blue. Below it, the rooftops are flat, cluttered with aerials and old bikes. We count one, two, three, four rooftops along: the roof Javier fell from must be the one with
the collection of bright plastic toys piled up against a low stonework wall.

Gabe lights a cigarette. Even in the open air, it stinks. ‘So, have you found what you were looking for?’

I think it through. ‘If it’s definitely Rosa—’

‘It’s her. You know that as well as I do.’

‘Then it might be good news. She didn’t look miserable, did she? And the cat. Javier’s father didn’t sound like the kind of guy who’d put up with a pet. Perhaps
he’s left – out of guilt or something.’

Gabe takes a deep drag from the cigarette, shakes his head and then stands up. ‘We could sit here guessing all day. I’m going to ask after his old man.’

I remember what Javier said about him. ‘Be careful.’

Gabe smiles, and walks away. I watch as he approaches one woman with a baby in her arms, who shrugs and points to another, much older woman, sitting in a green plastic chair. She’s
pretending to knit, but I think she’s too busy keeping a beady eye on everyone else to make much progress.

Something’s nagging at me. If the little girl is as happy as she looks, then surely Javier’s death is already resolved, so why would he still be on the Beach?

Gabe has offered the woman a cigarette, she’s offered him a plastic chair, and now they’re huddled together, talking.
Please
let it help him. I hate the idea that I’m
making things worse.

My phone buzzes in my bag. It’s Lewis:
Text me back ASAP about the pictures. Need to see you.

Gabe’s coming back towards me. His walk is carefully controlled, but as he links arms and drags me out of view of plastic-chair woman, I sense his excitement. Or is it anger?

‘What?’

‘He’s back,’ Gabe says. ‘The bastard’s back.’

‘Back from where?’

‘That old gossip knows everything about everything in the street, but even she’s not sure. What she thinks happened is that he left – or was thrown out – soon after J
died.’

‘Maybe Javier’s mother worked out it was no accident.’

Gabe nods. ‘They all knew the father was a thug, of course. Not much slips past the neighbours when you’re living so close together. Apparently, the daughters turned into different
girls after he left. The older one was doing brilliantly at school. And you were right about the cat. J’s mum bought it for them as soon as the father left.’

‘But?’

He’s grim-faced. ‘A few weeks ago, they heard raised voices again. Well,
his
raised voice. That’s how they knew he’d come back. The neighbour reckons he’s
wormed his way back in, somehow. When they saw him, he was thin. Perhaps he’s been ill. Though she reckons it might just be the drink.
Shame it didn’t finish him off
, she said.
He’s not exactly Mr Popular round here.’

‘What story did you tell the neighbour?’

‘Hinted at a few debts owed to me. Figured the old man would be the type. Didn’t take much to set her off. My Catalan is pretty good these days. Don’t worry, I said nothing
about knowing J. I know better than to blow his big secret out of the water.’ There’s a sadness in his voice.

My phone buzzes. I bet it’s Lewis again. I wonder what he’s found out.

‘I’m sure he’d have told his mother and his sisters about you in the end,’ I tell Gabe.

He lets go of my arm. ‘I’ll never know. I might as well never have existed.’

‘If you didn’t exist, why did J send me to see you?’

‘Maybe you’re a hallucination. Maybe I knew deep down J wouldn’t have deserted me, so I’ve imagined you – to remind myself that he loved me.’

‘No, no hallucinations. I’m pretty solid, Gabe.’ I squeeze his hand to prove it. ‘What now?’

His eyes narrow. ‘I didn’t have any plans for tonight. I’m going to wait for him.’

‘
What?
What can you do?’

He shrugs. ‘I’ll rely on instinct for that one.’

‘No. Gabe, this isn’t what J would have wanted. His father’s dangerous. I’m sure Javier just wanted this to be an end to things, not the beginning of a new
vendetta.’

‘With all due respect, Alice, it’s not your decision.’

I hear the steeliness in his voice, but I can’t let him do this. The consequences don’t bear thinking about. And it’s my fault. I brought him here. ‘Please
don’t.’

Gabe sighs. ‘I know you’re being sensible. But you must see that I don’t care about the danger. What I care about is putting things right. Justice, if you like.’

That word. It’s one of the most dangerous there is.

‘His father’s crazy, Gabe. What if he kills you too?’

Gabe shakes his head. ‘You know what? I don’t think I care.’

Maybe Gabe and Javier will end up like Meggie and Tim, on the Beach for all eternity. I don’t want that to happen, but I also know I’ve started something I can’t stop.

‘All right, Gabe. But if you’re going to do this, I want to be here.’

‘You’re a sweet kid, Alice, but I can take care of myself.’

‘That’s what J thought. I won’t try to stop you, I promise. I want justice almost as much as you do.’

I can see him thinking it through and his face relaxes a little. Even if I am only a
kid
, I sense he’s relieved that I want to see this through with him.

Gabe nods. ‘OK. But you don’t have to wait with me.’

‘I want to.’

‘Alice, don’t be dumb. He could be hours yet.’

I look at my watch. It’s just after four thirty. We’re meeting Zoe at eight, to bag a prime position for the parade – though she laughed when Sahara called it that.
It’s not clowns and Disney carnival floats. They take this seriously. So should you.