Secrets From the Past by Barbara Taylor Bradford

over the place with an eagle eye, and took care of it in general.
    I had spoken to Geoff the day before my flight, and he had assured me he would be outside customs waiting for me. I knew Geoff well and he was reliable. I’d had to depend on him in the past and he’d never let me down yet. I trusted him to tell me the truth, and I knew he would level with me about Zac.
    The night before, as I had settled down in my plane seat after dinner, I’d tried to fall asleep without success. My mind had kept zeroing in on Zac.
    I had first met him when he had come to work for my father and Harry at Global. I was nineteen and he was twenty-six, and I didn’t like him at all.
    He was bumptious, conceited and full of himself, or so I thought. Certainly that day he had been strutting around the New York office, showing off because he’d just won some award. This was in the spring of 2000. We didn’t meet again until later that summer, when he came to stay at the house in Nice, much to my dismay.
    However, I had been pleasantly surprised. He’d been a different person altogether: warm, disarming, very friendly, and extremely funny. He had a great sense of humour, and poked fun at himself in a most self-deprecating way that kept me laughing.
    He stayed with us for several days and in that time I fell head over heels in love with him and he with me. It was a mutual meeting of the minds; we were on the same wavelength, although we did not link up with each other for some time.
    It became serious in 2004. I was twenty-three, Zac was thirty, seven years older than me and much more experienced in every way.
    It was a passionate affair, and romantic. It was also a bumpy ride at times. But we made it together for almost six years. Our break-up had been at the edge of violence – verbal violence, at least. Zac had a temper. A nasty temper. It had alarmed me, frightened me. I knew he was the love of my life and yet I was certain it would never work. I hadn’t spoken to him for almost a year.
    Now I was on my way to help make him well again, if I could. I sensed I had quite a task ahead of me. And I wasn’t sure I would succeed.

N INE
    I passed through passport control and customs very quickly, and as I went out of the restricted area I spotted Geoff immediately. He was a Californian, tall and lanky, with a tan and streaky blond hair. Because of his height he was easily visible amongst the small group of people who were waiting for other passengers in the arrivals hall.
    Waving to him, I moved forward, dragging my carry-on bag, and within a few seconds we were greeting each other with a warm hug.
    ‘Hi, Serena, I’m glad you’re here,’ he said as he took my case, rolling it along next to him, guiding me towards the exit. ‘Did you have a good flight? Get some sleep?’
    ‘I only dozed,’ I murmured, and looked up at him worriedly. ‘How is he, Geoff? How is Zac really?’
    ‘Not good, honey, but maybe not as bad as you’re probably imagining. No wounds, but he’s done in, exhausted, fucked out, to be truthful. Not suicidal though, and I told Harry that. But listen, kid, he is very depressed – so silent. He hardly says a word.’
    Geoff paused, threw me an odd look before continuing in a worried tone, ‘I don’t think he has the strength to speak. That might sound weird, but he won’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He’s badly in need of your care, I know that. And he did ask Harry to get you to come here.’
    Geoff’s words troubled me. I swallowed. My mouth was dry. Finally, I managed to say, ‘Do you think he should be in a hospital?’
    ‘I sure as hell do, but you won’t get him to agree. I couldn’t. Neither could Harry when he spoke to him on the phone. I guess you’ll just have to get him on his feet and back to health in the bolthole. Because he won’t move from there. I gotta tell you, that’s a given.’
    ‘I understand,’ I answered, but I was filled with dismay. I cleared my throat. ‘He can be very