Secrets of the Tides Read Online Free PDF

if she’d made a mistake deciding to keep the baby, if she was truly ready to give up her dreams and ambitions for the tiny curled being nestled inside her, if she was crazy to tie her life to a man she sometimes felt as though she barely knew, and to a family whose assured sense of place in the world appeared to be so far removed from her own careful, suburban upbringing. And all the while she tried, in vain, to ignore the sounds of angry raised voices drifting up the staircase.
    Things had seemed better in the morning. Everyone was more relaxed after a night’s sleep and there was no further mention of weddings or babies as they took breakfast in the conservatory, but Helen was still grateful when Richard suggested a walk, just the two of them.
    ‘Why is it called Golden Cap?’ she’d asked, feeling clumsy in her borrowed boots and billowing raincoat as they strolled up the coastal path running beside the house.
    ‘Well, that cliff you can see ahead of us is the highest point on the south coast of England. It gets its name from the exposed yellow sandstone you can see at the summit. I’ve always thought of it like its golden crown.’
    Helen gazed at the bald patch crowning the top of the cliff. In the gloom of the overcast skies it didn’t look golden, more of a dirty mustard colour.
    Richard read her mind. ‘It’s probably more impressive on a sunny day, but the views are great, it will be worth it, I promise.’
    ‘So how long has your family lived at Clifftops?’
    ‘Oh, quite a while now,’ Richard mused, reaching for her hand and tucking it into his warm one. ‘It’s rather romantic actually. Mum and Dad stumbled upon the house whilst on their honeymoon. It was incredibly rundown back then. The farmer who owned the estate had lost a lot of money and then been taken ill so it was little more than a ruin when my parents came upon it. Dad convinced the old chap to sell and then presented the house to Mum as a wedding present. It’s been a labour of love for them both ever since, a complete money pit, of course, but they adore it. I think it was seeing their passion for Clifftops that convinced me to follow in my father’s footsteps and study architecture at university.’
    Helen nodded. ‘It’s certainly an unusual old place.’
    ‘Isn’t it just? You do like it, don’t you?’
    Helen sensed her answer was important to him. ‘It’s like nowhere else I’ve been before,’ she replied, and she wasn’t lying. Wandering around the house felt like being on a film set; it was like a box of delights to roam and explore on a rainy afternoon. But an afternoon – a weekend even – she knew would be enough for her. Secretly she couldn’t help thinking she’d go mad rattling around such an isolated and draughty old house, perched as it was on top of the cliffs, with nothing but the tiny hamlet of Summertown within walking distance. Thank goodness their future was to be in London.
    ‘Come on,’ urged Richard suddenly, ‘I’ll race you to the top!’
    ‘Wait!’ protested Helen. ‘That’s not fair. I’m carrying two of us here . . .’
    But Richard was already flying up the hillside, the wind inflating his Barbour coat and blowing his thick fair hair in such a comical fashion that Helen couldn’t help but laugh at his retreating figure.
    It was as she had packed her bag later that afternoon that she’d heard voices from the garden below. She’d peeked out of the open window and seen Daphne and Alfred, side by side in the flower bed running along the back of the house. They were clearing winter mulch from the plants.
    ‘She seems so . . . quiet . . . aloof, perhaps. Do you think she really does love him?’
    Alfred had muttered something she couldn’t hear.
    ‘She’s lovely looking, beautiful, I suppose,’ Daphne had continued, ‘but I just can’t understand how he could have been so stupid. By all means, he’s a red-blooded young man; of course he’ll want to sow his wild oats. I just