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

stranger, without any proven medical credentials, to treat an established infection; he could easily make it worse; he hadn’t taken a patient history, he didn’t know whether she had any allergies, contra-indicated conditions . . . But the day had stripped her of any mental rigour. She had never been so tired, her accident and then the sad showdown with Alex leaving her fully drained.

The villagers had begun to come into the hut now, gathering at the threshold and staring at them with curious eyes. A babble of chatter quickly grew as the crowd expanded, almost everyone’s eyes on her, for they seemed to recognize Alex. Then, as if on an agreed cue, the children ran forwards, excitedly surrounding him and pulling at his trousers, asking to be picked up, their eyes wary upon her all the while. Tara watched the way he gave them high-fives, greeting them with smiles that for once didn’t reach his eyes.

‘Beauty,’ one of the women said, coming closer. She was dressed in a dark red skirt and blue cotton top, a young child swaddled to her chest, its legs poking out the bottom of the sling. Slowly she traced a finger around one half of Tara’s face, but looking back at Alex. ‘Very beauty.’

Some of the children were edging closer to Tara now, seeing that she didn’t bite. Their hands were reaching for her legs, as if to touch her was to see she was real. One little girl in particular was staring up at her with almond-shaped eyes and Tara instinctively stretched out her arms to her. She lifted her up and the two of them looked at one another with a mutual curiosity.

‘Hi,’ Tara smiled. ‘Hola.’

‘Hola,’ the girl whispered back, shyly.

‘You doctor lady?’ one of the women said, coming closer too.

Tara was surprised, and not just because she could speak some English. How could she have known what Tara did for a living? ‘. . . Yes.’

‘From England?’

‘Yes.’ She looked over quizzically at Alex, now standing there with a three-year-old on each hip, an inscrutable expression on his face as he saw the questions buzz through her brain: how did they know she was a doctor? How did they know she was English?

The laugh that she’d heard earlier, outside, cackled behind her again. ‘Alex spent many months here,’ William said, as if that explained it.

She was dumbfounded. ‘You speak English too?’

‘Of course.’

‘But why didn’t you say so when I arrived?’

‘You would have been disappointed, I think?’ He smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he brushed a hand over the tabard. Had that been for her benefit, then? ‘When our friend here first became the . . . big boss man . . .’ William rolled his eyes. ‘He wanted to learn the ways of the jungle from the Indigenous peoples.’ He gave a shrug. ‘So we bartered. He taught us English and in return, he could live with us and learn our ways.’

‘Oh.’ It was another insight into the life he had found After Her. So different to the one she had built After Him. She wondered how long he had lived here with them, and when? Was it a month after he arrived? A year? Six? It was another clue as to the adventures he had had without her, the life he had lived without her by his side, and she felt a fresh pang of loss, another mourning for the life she hadn’t had. He had asked her to marry him, to share her life with him . . . they might have had their child. But instead they had diverged – an ocean between them and not a word in ten years.

Tara watched Alex put the wriggling children back down again and they ran off, laughing and shrieking, as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked older. Tired.

‘Well, talking of the “big boss man”, Tara’s father is my boss,’ Alex said pointedly. William appeared to absorb his meaning as Tara saw his expression change before her eyes.

‘Then what are you doing over here?’ William asked him. ‘The ceremony is soon.’

‘Yes, three days from now, I’m aware,’ Alex sighed. ‘Tara has come to help a friend. They need the black star leaves for a medical treatment.’

William’s brow furrowed deeply. ‘. . . It is the spider disease?’

‘Apparently,’ Tara nodded, still holding the curious little girl on her hip.

Alex went on, ‘William, we’ve had a hard journey to get here and Tara’s exhausted. She and her guide were attacked yesterday, down by the rangers’ station, and clearly time is of the essence. We’ll need to leave again at first light tomorrow.’ He lapsed into the Awa’s language again and as he finished speaking, William met the gaze of an older woman standing by the door and nodded to her. She came over and William spoke to her in a low voice.

‘She’s going to get the black star leaves before the sun sets,’ Alex translated.

‘Oh. But shouldn’t I . . .?’ she began, before stopping herself with a wry smile. Did she honestly believe it made a difference who picked it and when? But she thought back to how her headache had cleared . . . ‘Wait, I’ve got something from Don Carlos.’ She got up and hurried over to the rucksack, retrieving the wrapped parcel he had given her on her departure. ‘Apparently this has to be opened only when the leaves are being picked,’ she said to him. ‘I don’t know what it is.’

‘It’s a talisman, believed to optimize the healing qualities of the plant.’ Alex took it and handed it to the woman, who accepted it with a look of understanding, as though she had been expecting such a thing. Without a word, the woman slipped from the hut. If only out of curiosity, Tara would have liked to have gone with her and watch the obscure ritual, but the woman would need to be quick. They had only minutes of daylight left.

‘Come. You are in need of food and rest,’ William said, and with a sweep of his arm, he led them over to the communal area where wooden stools – old tree stumps