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

Kaffee. ‘I’d love one, thank you. You always look after me so well.’

‘Somebody got to look after the doctor doing all the looking after.’

‘Ha!’

She turned in her seat to watch the surfers catching the waves now, their shouts carrying to her ear as they carved over the water’s surface in meandering arcs, like musical notes on a manuscript.

‘Mean rip out there yesterday,’ Jed said warningly.

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s better now but be careful if you’re going in.’

‘Don’t worry, I remember – swim perpendicular to the current. You taught me well.’

He nodded, pleased. ‘We’ll need to keep an eye on little Jimmy, though.’

‘For sure. He’s my godson.’

‘He’s fast. Does he like football?’

‘Do you know a boy who doesn’t?’ she quipped.

They watched as the surfers tipped backwards into the water, their run already over, the waves closing over their heads.

‘How long ago did they all leave?’

‘An hour and a half ago. ’Bout that.’

‘Gosh. An early start, then.’ Jet lag, she supposed. Plus kids. Poor Holly. There was no rest at all, ever, for her. It wasn’t a problem Tara suffered from.

The surfers were walking out of the water now, their boards tucked under their arms, exhilaration infusing their strides. She could see the droplets of water falling off their bodies like crystals, hear the cadence of their laughter over the waves. That was what it was to be happy. To be rooted. To be here.

Pura Vida, the locals called it.

She watched on with emotions she couldn’t quite describe, an ache deep inside her she couldn’t understand. She had a nagging feeling she was doing this Life thing all wrong.

‘You’re awake!’

Holly ran over the sand towards her, already touched by the first kisses of a tan. Her freckles were blooming, her hairline damp. Brightly coloured net shopping bags bulged in her hands. It had clearly been a morning well spent, in every sense.

‘Only just.’ Tara watched her lazily from the old striped hammock, one leg dangling idly over the side. She’d been trying to read a book for the best part of an hour now but she’d yet to turn the page. Lying about made her an easy target for her thoughts, it seemed.

‘Right?’ Holly laughed. ‘We kept going in and checking on you. I actually checked your pulse at one point.’

‘Told you I was tired.’ She nodded towards the shopping. ‘Find any treasures?’

Holly’s smile widened. Twelve hours in and she was already a different animal from the pale, exhausted medic living off sugar in the hospital canteen. ‘Sure did. Got me some—’ She reached into the bag and pulled out a long string and shell necklace; it was all bleached colours and intricate knots, and would jangle when she walked.

‘Nice,’ Tara smiled. She had bought an almost identical one when she was fifteen. It was an intrinsic part of the boho beach look, the Blue Lagoon fantasy everyone ended up chasing out here.

‘Plus, some of these babies,’ Holly said, presenting a pair of faded red leather thong sandals.

‘Love those,’ Tara nodded, knowing she would get blisters from them. ‘Let me guess, did you get a basket?’

‘Not yet, but I’m gonna! How did I not know that I needed baskets? They’ve got so many!’

‘So many baskets,’ Tara concurred. ‘My mother bought one once that was just big enough to carry a single egg.’

‘A single egg?’ Holly’s jaw dropped open.

‘A single egg. It was beautiful, don’t get me wrong. Exquisitely crafted. But a single egg.’

‘Wow.’ Holly said wistfully, lapsing into silence for a moment and musing on the whimsy of a basket woven by hand for such a singular task. She seemed to be tapping into the Tremains’ obscure definitions of luxury – ramshackle huts on a pristine beach, fresh coconut water, single-egg baskets.

‘Did Jimmy like watching the surfers?’ Tara asked, watching as he and Dev, silhouetted, ran straight down to the water’s edge, the hot sand burning their feet.

‘We had to drag him away. Somehow he’s managed to come back with a new Liverpool kit, I mean, how . . .?’ She shook her head wearily.

‘Have you seen the others? What’s their route?’

‘Dunno, they said they were going to go inland.’

‘Oh dear. That means mountains. Did anyone tell Rory that?’

Holly shrugged. ‘They said they’d be back sometime after lunch.’

‘Right.’ Tara felt a twitch of irritation. Okay, so she’d slept late – but did he really have to take himself off for a half day?

‘Don’t look like that!’ Holly warned her, knowing the nuances of her tone only too well. ‘You’re the one who overslept. Anyway, he’s bonding with your brother. You should be pleased.’

Bonding. How she hated that word.

‘Well, we should do something too, make the most of our time while we can,’ Tara said, kicking her leg and beginning to rock. ‘I’m keen to get over to the clinic today and give them the supplies we brought over.’

Holly gave a sigh that suggested she wasn’t quite so keen to return to a medical setting so soon. ‘Sure, whatever you want.’

‘But I can go on my own if you want to hang out here, it’s really no problem.’

‘Listen, you’re the expert on this place; we’ll do whatever you want, but don’t feel you need an itinerary. We’re cool just hanging out here.’ Holly sighed happily, looking out over the water and watching her family frolic in the shallows. ‘Jed’s so amazing. He’s going to teach Jimmy to surf.’

‘I know. He taught me. He’s the best.’ She watched the look of contentment on her best friend’s face. A family beach holiday. Simple pleasures. She felt an unexpected stab of pain again and looked away. ‘And your hut’s okay?’

‘I want to live there forever. What more do we need? Beds, beach. Outdoor shower. And there’s just something so . . . romantic about a mosquito net, isn’t there?’

Tara smiled, hearing her falling for the illusion of the simple life. She had followed the same curve herself over the years. It was easy to fall for the paradise sell, but this stripped-back aesthetic was an illusion. What was charming on day one could be wearying by