Read Online Secrets From the Past by Barbara Taylor Bradford - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
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standing near the TV, had not moved, and his eyes were riveted on me.
To say I was shocked by his appearance was an understatement. I was appalled. He had lost a great deal of weight, which somehow made him look taller, and his face was gaunt. I could see that quite clearly even though he had a lot of stubble, had obviously not shaved for days on end. His brown hair had lost its lustre, looked grey and strangely dusty, and there was an air of exhaustion about him. He appeared diminished; even his green eyes were dulled, had lost their sparkle, and his mouth was pinched.
As I walked forward he came towards me, and a moment later my arms went around him. I held him close. He was so thin I could feel his bones through his shirt, and my heart ached for him, for his suffering. A split second later I experienced such a rush of love and tenderness I was startled at myself.
War had taken its horrendous toll on him, and I knew I must make him better, bring him back to life, to what he had been before. Whether there would be a future for us I did not know, nor did it matter at this moment. What I wanted was to get him well, no matter what. That was my aim, and my reason for being here.
Releasing him, I took a step away, turning my head. His clothes were dirty and they smelled. And so did he. Taking several deep breaths, I said, ‘Harry sent me.’
‘I asked him to,’ Zac replied. ‘Thank God you came.’
A few seconds earlier, out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed Geoff rolling my suitcase into one of the bedrooms, and now he reappeared, came to join us in the middle of the room.
‘How about coffee?’ he asked genially, looking from me to Zac. ‘I could use it.’
We both nodded, and I said, ‘With milk and sweetener, please, Geoff.’
‘Coming right up,’ he answered, and walked off into the kitchen.
Taking hold of Zac’s hand, I led him to the big overstuffed sofa, and we sat down. I couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face … I didn’t know if it was one of longing, weariness or pain, and then almost immediately his face crumpled. He started to cry. He brought his hands to his face as he wept.
After a moment he took control of himself again, and wiped the tears away with his fingertips, shook his head, looking regretful.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break down, Pidge,’ he muttered, using Jessica’s nickname for me, the only other person allowed to do so.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’ Moving closer, I put my arms around him, wanting to console him, but instantly drew back, again almost gagging. One thing was certain: I had to get him out of these filthy clothes and into a shower as soon as possible.
Now my eyes roamed around the room. His cameras were on the table, his flak jacket laid on a chair, his holdall on the floor nearby. He was all set and ready to roll, to hightail it back to another war, wherever the hell it was, I thought dismally. He’d even go back to Afghanistan, the most hellish place on earth. The smell of cordite, blood and sweat, exploding roadside bombs, Marines being killed relentlessly. A foul battleground.
He was addicted to war, the adrenaline rush, as so many of us were. I had been, but had managed to extract myself from the front line before it was too late, as my father had before me, and Harry as well.
If you didn’t get out you were burned to a shred, like Zac was now. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I thought, and shivered involuntarily.
Geoff brought out mugs of coffee and handed them to Zac and me, returning to get his own. When he came back he brought a plate of cookies, which he put down on the coffee table.
We drank in silence. Finally, I said quietly, ‘As soon as you’re up to it, Zac, I want you to have a bath, or a shower, whichever you prefer.’
He threw me a swift glance, and all of a sudden there was a stubborn set to his mouth. He said, ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ I answered in the most businesslike
To say I was shocked by his appearance was an understatement. I was appalled. He had lost a great deal of weight, which somehow made him look taller, and his face was gaunt. I could see that quite clearly even though he had a lot of stubble, had obviously not shaved for days on end. His brown hair had lost its lustre, looked grey and strangely dusty, and there was an air of exhaustion about him. He appeared diminished; even his green eyes were dulled, had lost their sparkle, and his mouth was pinched.
As I walked forward he came towards me, and a moment later my arms went around him. I held him close. He was so thin I could feel his bones through his shirt, and my heart ached for him, for his suffering. A split second later I experienced such a rush of love and tenderness I was startled at myself.
War had taken its horrendous toll on him, and I knew I must make him better, bring him back to life, to what he had been before. Whether there would be a future for us I did not know, nor did it matter at this moment. What I wanted was to get him well, no matter what. That was my aim, and my reason for being here.
Releasing him, I took a step away, turning my head. His clothes were dirty and they smelled. And so did he. Taking several deep breaths, I said, ‘Harry sent me.’
‘I asked him to,’ Zac replied. ‘Thank God you came.’
A few seconds earlier, out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed Geoff rolling my suitcase into one of the bedrooms, and now he reappeared, came to join us in the middle of the room.
‘How about coffee?’ he asked genially, looking from me to Zac. ‘I could use it.’
We both nodded, and I said, ‘With milk and sweetener, please, Geoff.’
‘Coming right up,’ he answered, and walked off into the kitchen.
Taking hold of Zac’s hand, I led him to the big overstuffed sofa, and we sat down. I couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face … I didn’t know if it was one of longing, weariness or pain, and then almost immediately his face crumpled. He started to cry. He brought his hands to his face as he wept.
After a moment he took control of himself again, and wiped the tears away with his fingertips, shook his head, looking regretful.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break down, Pidge,’ he muttered, using Jessica’s nickname for me, the only other person allowed to do so.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’ Moving closer, I put my arms around him, wanting to console him, but instantly drew back, again almost gagging. One thing was certain: I had to get him out of these filthy clothes and into a shower as soon as possible.
Now my eyes roamed around the room. His cameras were on the table, his flak jacket laid on a chair, his holdall on the floor nearby. He was all set and ready to roll, to hightail it back to another war, wherever the hell it was, I thought dismally. He’d even go back to Afghanistan, the most hellish place on earth. The smell of cordite, blood and sweat, exploding roadside bombs, Marines being killed relentlessly. A foul battleground.
He was addicted to war, the adrenaline rush, as so many of us were. I had been, but had managed to extract myself from the front line before it was too late, as my father had before me, and Harry as well.
If you didn’t get out you were burned to a shred, like Zac was now. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I thought, and shivered involuntarily.
Geoff brought out mugs of coffee and handed them to Zac and me, returning to get his own. When he came back he brought a plate of cookies, which he put down on the coffee table.
We drank in silence. Finally, I said quietly, ‘As soon as you’re up to it, Zac, I want you to have a bath, or a shower, whichever you prefer.’
He threw me a swift glance, and all of a sudden there was a stubborn set to his mouth. He said, ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ I answered in the most businesslike
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