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

on her stomach, gasping like a landed fish until gradually she felt her diaphragm relax out of spasm and her body recover. Shock had her in its grip; she was shaking too much to stand, her limbs as weak and trembling as a newborn fawn’s. She hardly dared look back, look up . . . What had just happened? It had all been so fast . . .

When she saw it, she cried out. She had come over that?

A drop of twelve, maybe fifteen metres, the water shot out like jets, the immense pressure pushing horizontally before it began to fall. Perhaps that was a mercy – it meant she had missed any rocks at the base.

She lay there shivering and shaking convulsively, her mind feeling unwieldy and shapeless too, as though she had lost her edges, like the water. But a voice, an instinct, was telling her to get out of this river and get warm. She wasn’t safe yet.

Hauling herself up with effort, getting her legs out of the cold water and onto her hands and knees, she crawled over the rocks, sobs escaping her as her elbows buckled suddenly or a knee slipped, sending her crashing again, bruising her, dropping her back into the water. Nothing was working properly, her body disconnected from her brain, her limbs shaking violently. It seemed to take an age to cover any distance at all, the clamour of the falls pounding her ears and reminding her of their power, making her quake. She didn’t want to go back in that water again. She couldn’t get wet.

She was so close to safety, almost at the riverbank but for a narrow channel of water that slipped between the rocks. On any other day, she could have hopped it, a girlish leap with her arms in the air. But today she had almost been killed. Today she had cheated death. There was nothing left in her, adrenaline left her like a rag. She stopped where she was, unable to go any further.

The voice in her head was telling her she had to get dry but it was an impossible task now, too much to ask. The rock was flattish beneath her, almost like a ledge, soaking up the sun’s heat. Just getting here had depleted her and she lay there, shivering in the sunlight, feeling its warmth steadily seep into her bones as she curled up into a tight ball. She let her head and limbs become heavy, watching the river glide past her at a stately pace, now that the excitement was over.

She stared impassively back at the falls. The cliffs rose up like a gorge on either side from where she lay, smooth and dark and completely impassable. Already it was impossible to believe she had come over the edge of it. She couldn’t forget that feeling of falling, of her arms and legs flailing as she tore through space, the moment of impact . . . She couldn’t forget the utter terror of thinking that she was going to die. She couldn’t forget that as she waited for oblivion, her last thought had been of her first love.

The voice was distant, dream-like. Her fingers twitched against the rock, her mind resisting the call back to wakefulness. She wanted to stay under, stay still. There was solidity beneath her. No movement, no rushing. As long as she didn’t stir, she would be safe. Nothing could reach her here—

‘Tara!’

Her eyelids fluttered open, even though she felt pinned down, tethered to a force that was pulling her into the earth. She heard the heavy sound of footsteps running, panting drawing closer, the crash of water. And then her body was being lifted, being held, cradled in warm arms.

‘Tara?’ Alex’s voice was torn velvet, his eyes wretched and desperate as he stared down at her, looking for signs of life, of injury. ‘Tell me you’re okay.’

It was a demand.

‘I’m okay,’ she mumbled, staring up at him, unable still to move. She had never felt so heavy. Her entire body felt filled with lead, her limbs stiff in their bent foetal position.

‘I can’t believe . . .’ But his voice trailed off as he looked back at the falls. He immediately paled as his heart forgot to beat. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, imagining.

He looked back at her and she felt like a child. Tiny in her father’s arms. Safe again. She felt a feeling that she hadn’t felt in so many years now as his eyes settled upon hers. It was like a lock turning within her. Or perhaps unlocking. Fundamental bolts and slides moving into position, giving her shape. She felt tears begin to stream from her eyes, silent and endless – fear superseded by relief. Now she was safe.

His hand smoothed over her face, pressing against her skin, taking a gauge of her warmth. ‘You’re freezing. We need to get you out of those wet clothes.’ He stared at her tears as they raced like raindrops down a window. ‘Christ, I can’t believe . . .’ His voice was hoarse. The apple bobbed again. He cleared his throat. ‘. . . Can you sit up?’

She could feel his heart pounding against his chest. It sounded like a racehorse’s, one of her father’s winners at Cheltenham. Had he run all the way? How many miles? Had he known these falls were here? Surely he must have done – that was why he’d looked so scared as she’d been swept away. He’d known this was where she would end up. Could he have conceived that she would survive it?

She couldn’t. The sensation kept ripping through her still, her body falling through space as the body of water broke apart into tiny droplets and just . . . let her go. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, she realized. She felt like she had been falling for a very long time, bracing for the landing and knowing that when she did, she would break apart.

‘Come.’ Gently he gathered her up, bringing her to an upright position. ‘We’ve got to dry these clothes while there’s