Secrets from the Past. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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       ELEVEN

      When I’d brought Zac to the bolthole for the first time, we had used this bedroom; it was the one my parents had used, and my favourite. He had glanced around with interest, and made a remark about how much my parents were in love and yet slept in twin beds. He obviously thought this was strange.

      There was a Stone rule: we didn’t discuss private family matters with outsiders. But I remembered now that I had been oddly embarrassed that day, had felt obliged to explain the reason to Zac. And so I confided that my mother had had a rare form of osteoporosis, which necessitated that she sleep in a single bed for her comfort.

      He had been sensitive enough not to ask any further questions, and I had not volunteered any more information. I did not wish to go into personal details about my mother’s health. I felt that simple explanation was enough.

      Ever since that first visit together, we had continued to use my late parents’ bedroom. In any case, the two others were also furnished with twin beds. Essentially, the bolthole was maintained for Global photographers and photojournalists, so that they could get a bit of much-needed R&R – it was not for romantic interludes.

      Tonight the room was still, quiet, and nothing stirred except the flimsy white curtains flapping against the glass. I’d opened the window earlier to let in fresh air, and a breeze had blown up.

      I was wide awake and listening attentively. I sensed Zac was awake as well. I was hoping he would eventually fall asleep, knowing I was here with him. Earlier this evening, I’d managed to get him to sip some of the soup and eat a bit of the chicken, although not enough to satisfy me. At least his stomach was not entirely empty.

      What did please me was his cleanliness. He had showered, shampooed his hair, and thankfully it was now his natural glossy brown again, and not that strange dusty-grey colour. It was long, but that was of no concern. He had even shaved, had nicked himself with the razor, but he had made the effort. After his shower, he’d put on a pair of Harry’s pyjamas and a terrycloth robe, which Geoff had found for him.

      After Geoff had gone off to the Bauer Hotel, I pottered around in the kitchen, watched my chicken bubbling, called Harry to report in, then spoke to Claudia downstairs, to say hello and thank her. After that, I unpacked my bag. For the remainder of the day, and the evening, Zac was glued to the TV, but he kept the sound low, and he seemed calm, and much less uptight.

      Instinctively, I knew it was best to keep everything as normal as possible, low key, with no pressure of any kind. By allowing Zac to be himself, to do whatever he wanted, he would feel more natural and at ease.

      And it worked. He had begun to speak a little, although he did not say very much, and I chatted back casually, avoided asking any questions. Harry had warned me not to probe, just to accept that he had come out of Helmand Province because he was tired, weary of being on the front line in Afghanistan.

      Eventually my eyelids began to droop, but I wanted to stay awake for as long as possible, to be there for Zac. And so I began to make a mental list of things to do tomorrow.

      I must call Harry twice, morning and evening; that was mandatory. He insisted on knowing what was happening with Zac, and, just as importantly, how I was coping.

      I had to let Jessica know where I was, and what I was doing. That was also mandatory, another Stone rule. We must know each other’s whereabouts. Dad had drilled that into us. And I must speak to my other sister, Cara. Not only about Dad’s pictures of Mom, but the dummy of the photographic book she had recently found, one which my father had started but not finished.

      Cara. My mind focused on her. She called herself the middle sister, because Jessica had been born first; she had been the second twin to pop out ten minutes later.

      It had been Cara who had explained our mother’s bone condition to me, when I was old enough to understand. What Mom actually had was osteoporosis, usually considered an old woman’s disease. Our mother had a rare form of it, and this had been triggered by her pregnancy, which is when a woman’s bone density drops, and especially if she breastfeeds.

      Mom was thirty-four when the twins were born, and she had breastfed them. Also, she had low peak bone mass to begin with, СКАЧАТЬ