The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

of events, but their pity at Alex’s treachery had been heightened by their excitement at her newly revealed heiress status and there had been something mawkish in their attentions. She had found it hard to forgive them fully for the sly way they had behaved at Sophie’s birthday and things had never been quite the same between them (except with Holly, of course, who had always known and never cared). Perhaps it was because they were so inextricably linked to that fateful weekend that Tara hadn’t tried to stay in touch with them after graduation, instead letting the friendships slowly drift, and it had been at least seven years since she’d last seen Liv. But little had changed, it seemed. Even standing here now, she could sense Liv’s beady-eyed fascination with her life, and even now, Tara still felt a glint of anger. More than a glint.

Nonetheless, she smiled. ‘Well, if you ever fancy a sabbatical, we’re always on the lookout for medics to train up the staff. Between yellow fever, typhoid and hep A, we’ve got our work cut out for us there.’

‘Don’t jest – I might take you up on that,’ Liv groaned. ‘I’ve got a wait list that would go four times round the block. I think I could work till I’m eighty and still never clear it. I used to fantasize about my dream man. Now I just fantasize about running out of patients.’

‘I know what you mean. The other day, I went eleven hours without even peeing. My bladder was like a bowling ball. I swear a junior actually opened his mouth to ask me when the baby was due.’

Liv chortled. ‘And to think we chose this.’

‘I know. Last laugh, right?’ Tara glanced casually around the room, aware she was on autopilot. It seemed to her that much of being a doctor involved boasting to other doctors and ‘civilian’ friends about how exhausted and overworked they were. Like it was a competition.

Everyone was up and mingling now, a few people even beginning to dance. Charles Miller was one of them and Tara watched him for a minute. That was some advice she could have given him for getting to consultant: don’t. She was firmly of the view that throwing shapes at an event like this had a direct negative impact on promotion chances. Seeing some people dance made it seem like a moral imperative to remove all surgical implements from their hands.

The snatched glimpse of the blade flashed through her mind’s eye again and she turned sharply away.

She looked back at her old friend and took the glass from Liv’s hand again, almost draining it. ‘So who’s the guy?’

Liv pulled a face. ‘Ugh, just a fling. Flingette, actually. A waiter I met at this fancy pizza place in Soho.’

‘Well, so long as it was a fancy pizza place,’ Tara quipped.

‘He’s very hot.’

‘I should hope so. Age?’

‘Mid-to-early twenties.’ Liv hesitated. ‘What? Don’t judge me! Like I said, it’s a flingette. No strings.’

Tara shrugged as Liv gave a half-hysterical wail. ‘It’s your life, your choice, Liv. Who am I to judge?’

‘Yeah, but I bet you’re with some shit-hot Master of the Universe type.’

‘Because that’s really my type,’ Tara deadpanned.

‘Well, you always did get the gorgeous ones.’

‘Not always.’ Tara looked around the room before Liv could catch her gaze. She sensed his name hovered like an aura around her whenever she saw any of the old crowd. She could tell they wanted to know if she’d seen him, what he was up to now working for her father, whether they were in touch . . . For all his two-faced duplicity, he still exerted a pull over her friends and in spite of Holly’s warnings never to mention his name, it was always there nonetheless, just unspoken. She felt her soul tremor and twitch again, deep inside her bones, and she suppressed a shudder.

‘. . . Huh. A really shit DJ,’ Tara tutted as ‘Ice Ice Baby’ came on.

‘So who are you with now? Are you married?’ Liv remained on topic, still watching her, and Tara could detect a coldness in her gaze. Her family’s wealth made her an object of constant scrutiny. People wanted to know what that kind of wealth looked like, close up. Even people who had known her once.

‘God, no. I’m seeing a guy called Rory. He’s a senior reg in cardio at Chelsea and Westminster.’

‘Younger too?’

‘No, two years older than me.’

‘But you’re a consultant already.’

‘Yes.’

Liv’s eyebrows shot up. ‘And he’s cool with that?’

Tara shrugged. ‘Well, I guess he has to be. I’m not getting a demotion for him.’

Liv looked bemused. ‘Is it serious?’

‘Define serious.’ Tara gave one of her signature dismissive shrugs. ‘We’ve been together a year or so now. We’ve talked about us getting our own place.’

‘I sense a “but”.’

Tara wrinkled her nose. ‘No, no “but”. Things are just pretty good the way they are and I’m of the “if it ain’t broke” school of dating.’ Rory had suggested moving in together enough times to prove he was serious, but if there wasn’t an overwhelming reason to do it, there also wasn’t one why they shouldn’t. They got on so well, shared the same interests, understood the demands of each other’s jobs; the sex was good. He liked having money but wasn’t consumed by it; he’d come from enough affluence to live in a certain way without really having to think about it. Life with him would continue to be uncomplicated and steady. Perfectly, quietly happy.

‘Oh, I hear ya. I moved in with Ben, the dentist – remember him?’

‘Just about.’ Strawberry blonde, jug ears. She was her mother’s daughter after all.

‘Three years we were together before we took the big leap. I was convinced he was The One – my mother had chosen her outfit, I was all ready to order the flowers. Then two weeks with the same front door key and it was over. Never again.’

‘It’s not for everyone,’ Tara sighed. ‘We can’t all be like Sophie.’

To everyone’s astonishment, Sophie had married at twenty-three to a small