Beach Combing Read Online Free PDF Page A

was down to being an arts student but she never used shortcuts like ‘u’ instead of ‘you’ or ‘gr8’ instead of ‘great.’
    ‘Gr8,’ texted back Jago in a flash and somehow the thrill of exchanging texts with an A-list movie star fell flat.
     
    Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on the bus to St Ives. It wasn’t a double-decker and it wasn’t red but Alfie was so ecstatic that it didn’t matter. They sat right at the back and every time the bus drove over a bump in the road Alfie shrieked with excitement. The journey took half an hour, the bus slowly winding its way along the rugged coastline, through isolated villages, down country lanes lined with cow parsley and past disused tin mines. The sea wove in and out of view and Lara’s spirits soared every time she caught a glimpse of the waves glistening in the sun.
    When they finally drew into St Ives, Alfie was reluctant to get off the bus. If the little boy had had his way they’d probably have spent all afternoon travelling back and forth between the two seaside towns.
    Lara glanced at her watch. They had exactly two hours to kill and even though Alfie might not like it she knew what they were going to do.
    ‘You know that we’re always talking about taking turns, Alfie?’ she said.
    ‘No,’ said Alfie, still sulky at having to get off the bus.
    ‘I think you do, actually. But the important thing is – you’ve had a turn at choosing what you want to do. Well now it’s my turn. And what I want to do is go to an art gallery and look at some pictures.’
    Lara knew Alfie would be bored out of his skull, but she’d kick herself if she didn’t visit Tate St Ives gallery. Without waiting for an answer she grabbed Alfie’s hand and set off in the direction of the Tourist Information office. They’d point her in the right direction.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    Lara was mesmerised by the painting in front of her. She’d been staring at the huge blue and green abstract for five minutes and simply couldn’t take her eyes off it. Alfie was sprawled at her feet, poring over a Thomas the Tank Engine picture book she’d found in her bag, but it wouldn’t hold his attention for much longer. The security guard in the corner obviously thought the same because he kept eyeing them both suspiciously.
    ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? And the artist painted it when she was well into her eighties…’
    The man’s voice jolted Lara from her reverie. She glanced up to see Ed, the man from Grace’s Surf Shack, grinning at her.
    ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘Same as you, I should think. Looking at paintings. Oh, and a bit of sculpture too. And later on I might go mad and have a cup of tea at the café upstairs.’
    ‘Very funny,’ said Lara drily. ‘I meant how come you’re in St Ives? I thought you worked at the surf shack all week.’
    ‘Ollie lets me out occasionally. And I need to prep for next term. I’m only working at the shack over the holidays as a favour. I’m an art teacher. I teach at the local comprehensive.’
    Ed looked completely different today. Instead of the baggy shorts and scruffy old T-shirt he wore at the beach he was in jeans, pale blue shirt and red Converse trainers. He had a folder of papers under his arm and looked older and taller. It served her right for jumping to conclusions about people, thought Lara. She’d assumed he was a laid back surf dude when it turned out that he held down a responsible job.
    ‘My dad’s a teacher too,’ she said, apropos of nothing.
    ‘Really? What does he teach?’
    Lara could have kicked herself for mentioning her father. She didn’t want to talk about her parents, and certainly not to someone she barely knew. ‘He’s retired now,’ she said hurriedly. ‘So tell me what you’re planning for your pupils. For next term I mean.’
    Ed’s face lit up. He loved talking about his work.
    ‘Have you heard of