by Karen Swan
But he had answered too quickly, too vehemently. ‘Is it targeted at my father?’
‘Tara, I’ve told you—’
‘You tell lies, Alex! I don’t believe what you tell me,’ she snapped. ‘Is my father in danger?’
He stared back at her, looking shocked and angry. ‘We’ve informed the security teams. Your father’s PPO is aware and we’ve briefed the relevant government offices. I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to him. These people want to make a point and they’re out to make a scene, but there’s no way they’ll get anywhere near him. We both know a man like your father is incredibly hard to get close to.’
It was his counter-strike, the verbal slap back. ‘Yes. I’m very aware,’ she said quietly.
He stared back at her for several long seconds, then looked away, the ball of his jaw pulsing rhythmically, words unsaid. But she knew what he wanted to say to her: that in spite of what she’d told him, he could justify what he’d done, that he still fervently believed he’d been right to sacrifice her – them – for the greater good.
Was he right? How many hours had she spent listening to her father over the years, expounding the virtues of his legacy project? It would bring in billions of dollars in eco-tourism, protect the wildlife habitats as well as the Indigenous cultures, promote reforestation, reduce carbon emissions . . . She could list the benefits in her sleep. Her broken heart had been the only fly in the ointment and there were times she had half expected her father to be nominated the patron saint of Costa Rica. So how could it be that he was now under personal threat, and their friends and staff were being attacked?
An eruption of dirty laughter, a universal sound whatever the language, made her look over. The women were bustling about, preparing the food – peeling, chopping, slicing, glancing over surreptitiously in the direction of their unexpected guests every so often, some of them giggling with their heads together. She wondered whether she was the butt of their jokes as curious eyes crept upon her.
The woman came back into the building and walked straight over to William. She opened her hands to reveal the bundle she was carrying – a large bunch of freshly picked leaves, now wrapped in soaked muslin. Alex looked on with bright eyes, glancing over at her with an intense look. So this was the great cure they had come searching for?
‘Good,’ William nodded, examining the leaves carefully, picking up a few and sniffing them deeply. He glanced at her, seeing how she watched him. ‘They must be picked at dusk, when the sap is falling.’
‘Ah yes, dusk,’ she replied politely, remembering the Awa’s instructions as they had left Jed’s village. She had almost lost her own life trying to get these herbs, in the full knowledge they would be as effective against hepatitis as drinking lemon juice or only bathing on days with an easterly wind.
It’s a means to an end, she reminded herself, as her mind went back to Paco and the thought of him lying on that mattress. It was for him that she was sitting here, being hosted by an entire village and sipping something so strong, her own brush with death was beginning to feel like just a warm and fuzzy dream.
She watched Alex, seeing how easily he smiled as he talked to William, the way he stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles like a Victorian gentleman in his parlour. It was true that wherever he lay his hat . . . He could talk to anyone; from a tribesman to a billionaire, he treated them all equally.
A young woman, very pretty, came over with some chopped fruit and berries arranged on banana leaves. Tara saw the way her eyes rested on Alex, waiting to meet his gaze as he looked up with a grateful smile. A moment held between them. He glanced over at Tara but she looked quickly away, remembering how Jed had told her yesterday morning about the tribes’ polygamous culture. It was disingenuous to think that, if he’d lived here for several months, Alex wouldn’t have formed a relationship with at least one of the women. Was that what the women’s laughter was about? Her heart ached a little harder.
William was watching her too and he seemed to smile knowingly as she caught his eye. ‘Are you married?’
It was the inevitable question, the one any woman in her thirties – or even approaching thirty – was asked every time she met someone new. Even in the jungle. ‘No.’
‘No? This is impossible to believe!’ William laughed, suddenly jocular and slapping his thigh like she’d told a great joke. ‘Has not Alex Carter tried to make you his wife?’ He looked incredulous, as though surely the two Caucasian people in the hut must marry each other?
Tara looked between the two men and wondered again what Alex had told them about her; definitely something, she knew. She was the doctor lady from England. But what else? Former fiancée? The one who got away? Just an ex?
She decided to get her account down, too.
‘Well, as I’m sure you must know, he tried, a long time ago,’ she replied lightly after a pause. The retort was relayed back through the crowd in a verbal Mexican wave as the villagers – some translating for others – erupted into cheers and laughter at the boss’s expense. Perhaps they hadn’t known that.
‘But you said no?’ William gasped, enjoying himself immensely.
‘I should never have said yes,’ she said simply with a little shake of her head, as though it was but a trifling thing. She could feel Alex’s stare like hot coals on her skin as she forced a smile, the drink – burning water – scorching her throat, making her chest tight.
‘Well, then, perhaps you would like to consider one of our fine men? They are fast and strong and make big babies.’
At his words, Tara felt the world stop spinning. She saw Alex’s face freeze in her peripheral vision. ‘. . . That’s a generous offer,’ she said, recovering herself. ‘But I fear my boyfriend would take exception if I returned from the jungle with a husband.’
It was the kind of flippant retort she would use back home and William was laughing uproariously. They all were, even the children, who surely couldn’t understand what was being said but were excited by the novelty of tonight’s guests. The hut reverberated to the sound of hilarity.
Tara wouldn’t look at Alex, but she could feel her cheeks burning under his continued scrutiny. They were even, her point made. If he had had lovers, so had she. He knew, now, about Rory, if he hadn’t known before – and she wondered just how discreet her father was on his visits out here, talking easily about ‘the family’. How else could Alex have known about her career?
At least he would understand now that she had someone to hold her, to miss her. He would know that when she told this boyfriend about Jed’s attack and her accident, he would be horrified and angry and upset; her new lover wouldn’t be able to bear that she had suffered like this. In a funny sort of way, Tara couldn’t wait to tell him, to see the love on his face. It would be so . . .
She remembered how ragged Alex’s voice had been as he found her on the rock, the look in his eyes as he’d evaluated her for injury, the feeling of his hands smoothing her hair in the hammock, how he had sat on the bank and watched over her as she slept.
Slowly, she looked up. Alex was staring at the ground with a look that made her body limp. Her words, sharpened to a point, had hurt him, drawn first blood.
The little girl Tara had lifted earlier came running over, holding out something. It was a necklace, wound from grasses and interwoven with dried seeds and seed pods. ‘For me?’ she asked in a hollow voice, raising another smile. Polite as ever.
The little girl nodded happily, dancing on the spot as Tara carefully took it and lowered it over her head. ‘It’s beautiful! I love it.’ She pressed her fingertips to it. ‘Thank you.’
She watched as the child ran off and hid behind her mother’s legs. The food was being brought over now – chicken, potato, yucca – and the smell made her mouth instantly water. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and terror had suppressed every appetite in her, but it came back now with a fury. The villagers ate with them, children sitting on the floor by her feet,
voices clambering over one another in excitement and rush. Tara ate till she thought her stomach would burst, delighting everyone with her rabid hunger. The aguardiente had done a fine job of numbing her, making the hut swim and sway a little, and she watched the proceedings as if from behind a gauze curtain, a step removed.
A crackle of static made her look up and she saw Alex reach for the walkie-talkie in his thigh pocket. ‘Alex Carter, over,’ she heard him say, sticking a finger in his opposite ear as he tried to hear above the noise. He got up from the stool and walked towards the edge of the hut. ‘Hola?’
He stood, his back to the room, staring out into the darkness of the jungle for a moment, then he stepped outside. Tara stared at the space where he’d been standing; the room felt empty without him in it.
She saw him pace past the door, his body erect. He looked tense as he talked to the person at the other end and she stiffened too. Was it the rangers? Did they have news about Jed?
‘Excuse me,’ she said to William, carefully putting her banana-leaf plate on the ground. ‘I just need to talk to Alex. I think he’s got news about our friend who was attacked.’
William nodded, watching her go.
She stepped out into the jungle night. The sky was a rich sapphire blue, the stars so numerous they joined hands and slipped through the air like sparkling streamers. A background chorus chattered, invisible, all around.
The conical huts were now silhouetted as giant geometric shapes in the twilight and she saw Alex standing with a hand on his hip, his back to her. His body language was spiky.
She began walking towards him, feeling her own tension rise. What had happened? Had Jed arrived at the hospital in time? The delays had been undesirable and concerning—
She drew nearer, hearing the static of the radio and then, only just overlaying it, a voice: ‘. . . was trekking into the mountains with Jed Alvarado, who was attacked. He was taken off the mountain but I need confirmation that she is okay. I need to speak with her. Over.’
‘And I told you, I don’t know who you’re talking about . . .’ Alex snapped, his voice rising.
Tara stopped walking. Wait, what?
The static crackled again, jarring in the soft night.
‘Dr Tara Tremain—’ the voice came down the other end, patient and insistent.
Rory?
‘—She was last seen at the rangers’ base station. She is thirty years old, Caucasian, English, five foot eight, dark hair, hazel eyes. Have there been any reported sightings of a woman matching that description? Over.’
She watched, dumbstruck as Alex’s arm swung down away from his ear, the walkie-talkie gripped loosely in his hand. He looked like he might drop it at any moment.
Tara couldn’t move. She couldn’t process what she was seeing. Was it the drink? Why would Alex deny knowing her? Refuse to admit that she was here and okay?
She took a step forward, silent, she thought, but he must have heard – sensed – something, because in the next moment he whirled round, eyes wild, a dangerous look on his face.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
‘Tara—’
‘That’s Rory.’
As if on cue, the radio crackled again. ‘Hello? Are you there? Over.’
Alex looked at the radio in his grasp, then back at her. ‘Now just listen—’
‘Why won’t you tell him I’m here?’ she asked, walking towards him again, stopping just a metre away.
His mouth opened, but no lie was fast enough.
‘Alex? Tell him I’m here,’ she insisted. ‘He’s worried about me.’
‘Just give me a chance to explain,’ he said quietly, his eyes burning into her so that she felt she could levitate from the ground.
‘Go on, then. Explain,’ she said, her voice shaky as a silence opened up. But no words dived into the silence. He couldn’t think, couldn’t think fast enough why he could reasonably deny telling her boyfriend that she was safe and right here, when there were other words that were going unsaid.
‘Give me that,’ she said suddenly, lunging forward and reaching for the radio in his hand. He shot his arm back fast, holding it up above his head, far out of her reach. ‘Alex!’
She struggled for it, not noticing how their bodies pressed together, her eyes only on the radio so that she didn’t see his head dip down, his mouth find hers—
Time stopped. She felt the world stop spinning, gravity loosen its hold on her, the trees, the grass beneath their feet . . . She felt like she was floating into space, up into the thick frothy galaxies, into the cocooning silence . . .
‘Hello? Is anyone there? Over.’ The crackle of static flickered between them like a taser.
‘No!’ Tara pushed him away, breathless, furious. ‘No!’
He stared back at her, his eyes shining. ‘That’s why!’
‘No!’ She couldn’t stop saying it, her only defence. She was undone by a kiss.
‘Yes. Nothing’s changed. You know it hasn’t.’
‘I’ve changed! I don’t want you! I hate you!’
He blinked. ‘No. You want to hate me.’
‘Don’t tell me what I want! You don’t know me!’
He saw how her hands were clenched, the whites of her eyes reinforcing the veracity of her words. Her chest was heaving from the effort it took to stand there and hate him, her entire being willed into a force field, repelling him away from her.
‘What I did—’
‘No!’ She put a hand up as if to stop him, even though he wasn’t moving. They were only words coming from him, but they were words intended to pull down walls, dig up the roots she had laid for a new life. The one without him.
‘—What I did was unforgivable,’ he said, his voice steady and lower now as he regained control of himself, his calm dismantling her chaos. He stared at her, as still as she was shaking. ‘No excuses, I saw an opportunity and I took it. It wasn’t personal. I never set out to hurt you and I never set out to fall in love with you.’ He swallowed. ‘I just thought I’d get close enough for an introduction and that was it. A shit move, I know, but I had my eyes on the prize. When I saw you in that newspaper article, I knew you were my only way to get in front of one of the few people on this planet who could actually do what needed to be done.’
‘There were other ways!’ Her fists clenched again. He couldn’t justify his way out of what he’d done!
‘No. Believe me, I had tried them all – the letters, the lobbying, the networking. That gets you only so far. It’s easier to get close to the President than it is to Bill Gates, or Jeff Bezos, or your father.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘No? Look at Attenborough. He had an audience with Obama at the White House – but what actually changed? There were some headlines and photo ops, but what the planet needs isn’t slogans or posters or promises. It needs cold, hard cash.’ The word was a sneer. ‘There’s only a handful of people in the world who can write the big cheques – and I mean the really big ones – that translate into action. The moment I actually got to talk to your father, he got it immediately. That was all I’d ever needed. An hour with the Big Man!’ His eyes shone suddenly. ‘My brilliant plan worked, except for one thing: you weren’t just a face in a newspaper article anymore.’
‘Spare me your sorrow. We both know you’d do it again.’
He hesitated. ‘. . . It’s true I thought eventually I’d get over it.’
They stared at one another as the unarticulated ‘but’ hung in the air, but she didn’t reach for it. She left it dangling like a dream catcher in a window, catching the light and offering to sweep away all the proclamations that had gone before.
He took a single step towards her. ‘Look, I’m not making any excuses. I stand by the decisions I made, and the reasons I made them. It was always bigger than the two of us. You know it’s not an exaggeration to say that the consequences from this project will impact millions of lives. I thought you and
me . . .’ His shoulders slumped, as though his soul was wriggling free from his body. ‘But there hasn’t been a day since when I haven’t wished it could have been different.’
‘Well, that makes me feel so much better. You’d do it again but at least I know you feel bad,’ she sneered. ‘You asked me to marry you, just so you could hurry things along—’
‘No. That was real. I never planned it.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ she cried. ‘I don’t believe a single word that comes out of your mouth.’
He fell quiet, staring at her under the night sky. ‘. . . Do you remember what I told you my mom used to say to me?’
‘No. I made a point of forgetting all your lies.’ Her tone was withering, her eyes cold as the lie tripped off her tongue easily. It was her only weapon.
He blinked. ‘The people who are meant to be in your life will appear in it, twice, without trying.’
‘This isn’t twice,’ she replied, shaking her head, instantly knowing where he was heading with this. They weren’t fated.
‘Yes it is. What were the chances of—?’
‘No. Because you were trying. The first time we met, you had engineered it. You did your research, found out one of your targets had a daughter round about your age and you tracked me down. That’s stalking, not serendipity!’
He stepped towards her, forcing her to take a step back. ‘Tara, you can throw your sarcasm and your hate and your anger at me, and I’ll take it because I deserve it. But we both know you’re lying. I still love you, and you still love me.’
‘No.’
‘I’m not going to let you go again.’
‘You don’t have a choice! When are you going to hear what I’m saying? I hate you.’
She turned to walk away but he caught her by the elbow, swinging her into him and kissing her again, setting the world on fire.
‘Fine,’ he said when they finally separated for air, eyes burning, hearts pounding. ‘Hate me, then.’
She lay in the hammock, wretched and sleepless. She had gone against her own nature, defying every instinct to listen to his words and believe them, and now her heart couldn’t rest. She was at war with herself, the lies she had told herself over the years falling to ashes on her lips.
