High Tide Read Online Free PDF

comparison with the rest of the class.
    ‘That doesn’t mean anything, does it? It could have been the highest out of a lot of not-very-good results.’
    Jim just looked at him, and Sam smiled as he flipped open the fridge to get out a bottle of beer. ‘OK. You know what you need to do. I’m not going to nag. I trust you.’
    He never knew quite how much to breathe down their necks, or how much input to have on their homework. He settled on taking an active interest, but not interfering. He was there if they needed help, but he wasn’t going to be a tiger father. Louise had always said it was up to them to motivate themselves. But he was very aware they had both started at a new school, and he wanted to be supportive.
    Daisy served up the penne and they sat round the island, eating and chatting. Sam wondered if Daisy would let slip whatever Jim had been alluding to earlier. A boy, obviously. His stomach clenched a little at the thought. It would be a turning point, with its own set of worries. He hoped he was going to be able to handle it. Because, of course, no one would be good enough for his beautiful, elegant, funny, quirky daughter. He looked at her grating parmesan onto her pasta, her head wrapped up in a white and gold scarf like a turban, her eyebrows groomed and darkened into a shape that gave her face a definition it hadn’t had before, and he realised she was a young woman, not a girl.
    Jim, at the other end of the island, with his tufty hair and geeky hipster glasses, was very much still a boy, gawky and spindly and able to recite the spiel of every alternative stand-up comedian seemingly after just one viewing. He was funny, which went a long way in this world.
    Hold your nerve, Sam told himself. They are going to be fine.
    Later, when they had both gone upstairs to their rooms to finish off their homework, Sam flopped down on the sofa and stared at the blank television screen mounted on the wall. This was the time he missed Louise the most. He just wanted someone to lean against while he finished his beer and watched the next box set. He’d done them all over the summer: Game of Thrones , House of Cards , Breaking Bad , The Killing … He was four episodes into a gritty French cop show at the moment. He sighed, flicked the telly on with the remote and pressed the buttons until he found the next episode. It would take him to Paris for an hour or so. Then he could go to bed.

    Upstairs, Daisy and Jim were watching Stewart Lee re-runs in Jim’s room instead of doing their homework. Jim was in his gaming chair and Daisy was sitting on the floor applying a silver crackle glaze to her nail varnish.
    Jim looked at her. She’d already plucked her eyebrows – again. He didn’t get it, really, the obsessive attention to things that didn’t matter, like the shape of your eyebrows and the colour of your nails. But he was used to it with Daisy. Their mum had been a lipstick-if-it’s-a-really-special-occasion sort of person, whereas Daisy had a different look for every minute of the day.
    And, of course, now there was a bloke in the offing it was only going to get worse.
    ‘You going to tell Dad about Oscar?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Daisy. ‘When the time’s right. So you can shut up.’
    ‘I’m not going to say anything!’ Jim protested.
    ‘It’s not as if there’s anything going on. He asked me out, that’s all. And I haven’t even said yes yet.’
    ‘He thinks he’s God,’ said Jim.
    ‘No,’ said Daisy. ‘Everyone else thinks he’s God. He’s actually really nice. And quite shy.’
    ‘What does he see in you ?’ asked Jim.
    Daisy spread her arms out. She was in a panda onesie, her hair still wrapped up in a turban, her face plastered in a moisturising mask.
    ‘Why do you even ask?’
    The two of them rolled about on the floor, laughing. They were both used to Jim teasing her. It was just what they did. Underneath they were unbelievably close.
    Daisy screwed the lid back on her nail varnish. She