High Tide Read Online Free PDF Page A

wooded bank on the other side of the river. Sam worked hard with the builders to make it as bright and spacious as possible. They knocked down walls to make a ground-floor open-plan kitchen/living/dining area. Everything was painted dead-flat white; the kitchen units were white gloss; the big modular sofa and blinds were dark blue. Not a strikingly original colour scheme, perhaps, but perfect for a seaside family home. Practical and nautical.
    At the far end of the room were bi-fold doors that opened out onto a narrow balcony. And from the balcony was the special bit: a trap door, from which dropped down a ladder. A ladder that plopped straight into the river when the tide was in. Here, they tied up the dinghy they used to row out to their boat. There was no garden, but who needed a garden when the river and the sea were theirs for the taking?
    The first thing they all did when they moved in was to hang a canvas blow-up print of Louise. A black and white shot of her in a pixie bobble hat, laughing, looking ten years younger than the thirty-nine she had been when the picture was taken.
    ‘Where do you think Mum would like to go?’ Sam asked, holding the canvas in both hands and surveying the blank walls.
    ‘She’d like to look at the sea, I think,’ said Daisy.
    Jim agreed. They hung her on the wall that looked out across the harbour over the Atlantic. Sam hoped the gesture wasn’t mawkish or sentimental. It wasn’t a shrine. It was a reminder. He was never going to pretend to anyone Louise hadn’t existed. And he certainly didn’t spend unnecessary amounts of time looking at the picture. It grounded him every now and again, that was all. Gave him reassurance and strength.
    It was getting dark as Sam reached home. And it was home, even after just one summer there. The house welcomed him as he pushed open the front door. There were all their coats and wellies and skateboards and bicycles in the hall, their clothes drying on the rack in the utility room, the scent of Daisy’s perfume (Daisy by Marc Jacobs, which Sam had given himself extra points for finding last Christmas) and the smell of microwaved popcorn the kids had made to keep them going until he got back and cooked them supper.
    As he pushed open the door to the kitchen, he realised Daisy was already cooking, while Jim sat at the island glued to his iPad.
    ‘Hi, Dad!’ Daisy greeted him, standing by the hob prodding at a pan of pasta. ‘I’m doing us pesto penne. Jim and me are starving.’
    ‘That’s great, sweetheart. Thank you.’ Sam gave his daughter a hug, kissed the top of her blonde head and ruffled Jim’s hair.
    ‘Hey, Dad,’ Jim managed.
    ‘How did you guys get on today?’
    They’d been at their new school a month, and so far the signs were good. No teething problems. He was yet to attend a parents’ evening, but they were both as conscientious as a father could hope for.
    Jim sniggered. ‘Daisy got on OK, didn’t you, Daze?’
    Daisy rolled her eyes and gave her brother one of her looks. He just grinned back at her, wide-eyed. Sam raised an eyebrow. There was something going on. He wasn’t going to press, though. He would hear about it in good time. The way her cheeks were tinged with a pale-pink blush told him there was probably romance in the air. He’d been waiting for it with part dread, part curiosity.
    Daisy wasn’t going to give anything away, though.
    ‘I got started on my art project – I’m doing Vivienne Westwood. Her influence on fashion. It’s going to be cool.’
    Daisy was fashion-mad, which was ironic given they were so far away from London now. But she didn’t seem to mind. She still managed to maintain her own individual style. She customised all her clothes. At least she wasn’t a sheep, thought Sam.
    ‘Fantastic. Jim? Physics test?’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Fine in your opinion, or mine?’
    ‘Sixty-seven per cent. Which was one of the highest.’
    Kids did this, Sam had noticed. Presented their results in