High Tide by Veronica Henry Read Free Book Online Page B

poor, who’d caught his eye when she helped him choose a wedding present. He’d rushed into the shop en route to the church, in a blind panic because he was late. She’d picked out a stunning serving plate, wrapped it and bedecked it with ribbons and bows and found him a card. And a pen. And dictated a thoughtful message for him to write to the happy couple. He’d come back later, after the wedding, more than a few glasses of champagne in, and asked her out for dinner.
    ‘I’m not leaving until you say yes,’ he’d said, standing in the middle of the fine china she was in charge of. She’d been dazzled by his insistence. And he took her to Quaglino’s, where she’d always longed to go …
    And that night, as now, she had worried about what to wear. She put down her coffee cup and wasn’t sure why she was so anxious. She had millions of black dresses. Dresses Spencer had chosen and sent to her by courier, arriving on padded hangers in linen clothes carriers from a designer website, for the nights when she escorted him to the social functions that kept his business afloat. So what if she wore one she’d been seen in before? Karina would know – Karina would give the tiniest flicker of her perfectly threaded brow – but Vanessa didn’t care.
    She didn’t really understand why a funeral required such formality. Surely it was better to turn up as yourself? Which in her case would mean faded jeans, a flowery tunic and flip-flops. She hated dressing up these days, though once she had dressed up to the nines for him.
    In the beginning, all his friends and family had thought she was a gold-digger, a shop girl who had lured him into a honey trap, because Spencer had made a fortune in the garment industry and his fortune showed no signs of shrinking, unlike the cheap clothes he peddled. She was never going to persuade them otherwise, so she stopped trying, even though it was miles from the truth. She had fallen for him because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was young and very pretty and extremely impressionable and naive and he’d swept her off her feet. And what wasn’t to like about being spoiled and doted on and put on a pedestal?
    She’d done trophy wife for ten years, sparkled and radiated and networked on his behalf. But after the baby thing, after the ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost her her own life and meant she could never have children, she couldn’t face it any more. Spencer had brought her down to their weekend house in Pennfleet to convalesce, and she had never found the strength to leave. She found peace by the seaside. She never wanted to go back to their St Johns Wood mansion block. Their marriage became one of convenience.
    It had been a funny old relationship. Maybe it had been perfect? She had no idea. It was the only one she had ever known. She spent the week in Pennfleet making the house ready for Spencer and his friends at the weekends so they could relax after a hard week doing deals and making money. And as Mary Mac did most of the work, all she really had to do was decide menus, book tables and make sure his latest fad was readily available – whether it was wagyu beef or artisanal gin, Spencer liked to be up to date with everything, as long as it involved a hefty price tag.
    She looked out across the water to Poseidon , Spencer’s pride and joy, crouched on the water, predatory and powerful, arguably the most expensive boat in the harbour. He’d loved that boat. What on earth was she supposed to do with it now? It shouldn’t even be in the water still, but Spencer had wanted to squeeze the last few weeks of fine weather out of it. She supposed she would go out on it to scatter his ashes, though she didn’t have a clue how to drive it. Someone in Pennfleet would help her out. They’d probably jump at the chance to have a go. It was worth more than most of the fishermen’s cottages that lined the banks, even though they were going up in price.
    She sighed. The sun was