Flood Tide Read Online Free PDF Page A

the present. We are very different.”
    It was true. Reah did live in the past, when she had been secure in her father’s love and protection. The present was empty.
    “What are you going to call your play?” she asked quickly.
    He screwed up his eyes as if looking into the distance.
    “I don’t know what I’m going to call it. I use ‘Flood’ as a working title, something to hang it on. I’ve no ideas…‘Wall of Water’ perhaps?”
    “I must go,” said Reah, fumbling in the depths of her bag for some money. “I must find this hostel before it gets too late. I’d like a wash.”
    “You could have used the day hotel in the station,” he commented. “Come along. I’ll take you to the best wash and brush up joint in town.”
    “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”
    “Stop arguing. You’re making a scene. People are looking at you.”
    Ewart took her case and propelled Reah firmly towards the piazza. He began looking for a taxi to hail. Several yellow-bodied taxis appeared immediately. He was that kind of man.
    “Palazzo Excelsior,” he said, pushing Reah into the back of the taxi before she could protest again.
    “Where are you taking me?” she demanded to know.
    “Sit back and be quiet. One more ungrateful word and I’ll tip you back onto the streets. Be a good girl and you can have a long, cool bath, a civilised number of towels and a bathroom all to yourself. No sharing.”
    The taxi swung round into the curved driveway of the Palazzo Excelsior. It was a beautiful old Florentine palace converted with skill and modernised into a deluxe hotel.
    The old stone walls were a sun-warmed honey colour, the graceful arches giving shade to orange and lemon trees in large terracotta pots. Chestnut trees and vines grew in profusion; climbing roses climbed over everything. Wisteria bloomed on the walls like pale confetti.
    Ahead she could see into the foyer, a cool spacious room with tall Venetian lamps, expensive antique furniture and acres of exquisite marbled floor.
    “I can’t go in there,” said Reah, conscious of the dust on the seat of her jeans, the sticky tangle of her hair, dirty hands, the crumpled blouson. “I’ll go to the day hotel in the station.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Ewart. “I’ve never met anyone so self-conscious.”
    He took his key and ignored the polite, curious looks from the reception staff. “Pretend you are a rich heiress in disguise. Act aloof and distant; tip the lift boy a few thousand lire. You’ve no idea how word will get around.”
    Her lips curved in a quick smile. Ewart stopped and put his fingers lightly under her chin, tipping her face. He looked into her hazel eyes as if seeking something he had missed.
    “Hey, that’s better,” he said slowly. “You can smile after all. Very nice, too. You should do it more often.”
    They went up in the gilded lift to the second floor. The wide corridor was hushed and deeply carpeted. He put his key in a door and it swung silently open.
    She went into a small foyer and then into the most elegant bedroom Reah had ever seen; it was all pale Florentine colours of cream and gold. The big bed was covered in a silken spread deeply edged with antique cream lace, the tall windows draped with matching silk curtains. Her feet sank into the deep pile of a cream carpet. More flowers stood on a low coffee table. An ice bucket stood on a silver tray with crystal glasses.
    Ewart walked across the room to another door and pushed it open.
    “All yours,” he announced.
    The bathroom was palatial. He could have thrown a party in it. The decorator had forsaken his cream and gold colours of the bedroom and introduced pale blue for the bath and vanitory unit, with the same blue repeated in the lily-patterned tiles on the wall. The cream carpet was laid in the bathroom and Reah glimpsed gold taps and a pile of fluffy towels folded on the side.
    She was tempted. A quick bath, then she would