The Secret Path by Karen Swan (best authors to read .txt) 📗

‘Sophie doesn’t have any make-up.’

‘Well, that’s her problem, right there,’ her mother said with a pitying look. ‘Of course, we shall have to start thinking about your twenty-first.’

‘I don’t want a party.’

‘So you always say, but we really must mark it in some way. It’s far too big a life milestone to just let slip by.’

‘Well, I’ll think about it,’ Tara lied; she had bigger life milestones coming up than a birthday party. She took another sip of tonic as they heard the front door slam and the low timbre of male voices echoed down the hall. Talk about timing!

Tara felt the butterflies in her stomach take wing. Finally, the moment she had been waiting for all week – if not quite all her life – was here. Alex had rung her seven times too since she’d put the phone down to her father, but she’d been in the bath for three of them and missed the rest driving over. She didn’t want to hear half-stories, anyway; she wanted him to tell her everything when he got here. She wanted to know every last detail of his bonding weekend and to forget every single moment of hers, to see the look in his eyes . . .

The door opened, her father filling the void and looking uncharacteristically ebullient in an emerald-green diamond-knit cashmere sweater; for some reason, dressing for golf meant casting off all sartorial sobriety and going all out on colour. ‘There you are!’ he boomed. ‘I was hoping we’d find you together.’

‘Were you, Brucey? And why was that?’ her mother asked with outright suspicion as he strode into the room and kissed her on her powdered cheek. ‘Hello again, Alex.’

‘Samantha, it’s lovely to see you.’ Alex had followed in after him, wearing navy chinos and a button-down shirt and jumper, not his style at all and clearly freshly bought at the club. Tara’s smile widened at the sight of him – too handsome for his own good; awkward and preppy-looking in his new clothes – before he was blocked from sight again by her father coming over for his hug.

‘Piglet.’ Her father bent down to kiss her cheek too, rising with a wink. Tara could feel her eyes shining with happiness. He turned back to his wife, his movements energized with the vigour of a man thirty years younger. ‘To answer your question, Sam-Sam, I asked Piglet over here because we’ve got some celebrating to do, that’s why.’

Tara always smiled when her father called her mother by her pet name. It was so . . . unlike her.

They all watched as he walked over to the drinks cabinet and pulled a magnum of Bollinger from the chiller. Samantha Tremain shifted forwards in her seat again, glancing across at Tara. ‘Bruce, what exactly’s going on?’

Bruce looked over at Alex, clearly enjoying building the suspense. ‘Do you want to tell her, or shall I?’

‘Uh . . .’ Alex’s gaze slid over to Tara. For the first time, she noticed how pale he looked.

‘Stage fright?’ Bruce chuckled, popping the cork and letting it fly through the room, hitting the frame of a small Vermeer on the opposite wall. ‘Fine, I’ll be the master of ceremonies.’

Tara looked back at Alex again as her father poured them each a flute. He looked . . . ill. Feverish, almost.

‘Alex . . .?’ she asked in concern. Was he still hungover? Had the port done for him last night? She’d certainly never heard him drunk like that before.

‘Yes, Alex – the man of the hour! The man we have been looking for.’

We? Tara glanced at her father as he placed a glass in her hand. Alex was the man she had been looking for, surely?

Everyone had a glass now. Her mother was perched on the very edge of her seat as though preparing to either jump up or lie down.

Bruce Tremain stuffed one hand casually into his trouser pocket. It was the stance he often adopted when he was making a speech – relaxed, confident, loquacious.

‘I’ll be honest, when he first walked through that door on Friday night, I had no inkling whatsoever that this young man was going to become such an important part of our family’s life. Samantha and I try to be approachable and welcoming to all our children’s friends – possibly especially to our Piglet’s, as she is so very prickly about all . . . this.’ He gave that vague gesture her family always used when talking about their surroundings. Tara’s gaze slid back to Alex’s again and she gave him an encouraging smile – but he didn’t smile back. In fact, he looked away.

Tara felt a bubble of fear begin to roil in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Was he regretting it already? Had she pressured him, after all, into doing this before he was truly ready?

‘But I did not expect the exciting revelations that have developed over the course of this weekend. Sam-Sam, I know you’ve been annoyed with me for not spending the time with you here that I promised I would, but when I tell you our announcement, I think it will all make sense.’

‘Then get on with it, please.’

Bruce went over and rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Alex here came to me with a question, a proposal if you like—’

Her mother’s hands flew to her mouth and she looked across at Tara with bright eyes.

‘—And after many deep discussions over the course of this weekend, I have agreed.’ He looked at the younger man, nodding with an earnest sincerity that, for some reason, didn’t comfort Tara. ‘I’ve made some calls and got the ball rolling on plans to buy nine thousand square miles of land in Costa Rica.’ His grin widened. ‘. . . We’re setting up a national park together.’

Silence echoed like a gunshot. Tara felt the room spin and tilt, her life beginning to slide away under her feet.

‘You’re doing what?’ Her mother’s voice sounded a hundred miles away. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Bruce! That wasn’t what I was expecting