Secrets of the Tides by Hannah Richell Read Free Book Online Page A

worse.
    ‘You’re not talking about us moving again, are you, Mum?’ Richard intervened, coming to Helen’s rescue. ‘We’ve only just arrived! At least give us a chance to have a cup of tea and a hot cross bun before you get started. Speaking of which,’ he segued seamlessly, ‘these are delicious. May I have another?’
    ‘Of course, dear,’ said Daphne, rewarding her son with her warmest smile. ‘Help yourself. You’re looking a little thin. I’ll have to feed you up while you’re here. We can’t have you wasting away now, can we?’
    Give me strength, thought Helen, and turned her face towards the garden to hide her flaming cheeks.
    ‘She doesn’t mean to upset you,’ Richard said a little later as they unpacked their suitcase upstairs.
    ‘She knows exactly what she’s doing,’ Helen huffed, slinging a handful of pants and socks into a drawer. ‘She’s been doing it for as long as I’ve known her.’ It was hard to make Richard understand how Daphne’s put-downs and comments made her feel so small and insignificant. It was true that taken individually they probably seemed little more than a touch insensitive, tactless at worst. But add them all up, and Helen felt as if she were facing a fearsome barrage of criticism and complaint.
    ‘She’s just a lonely old lady who misses her family and would like us to live a little closer.’
    ‘She’s not that old. And lonely? Give me strength! She’s still got your dad, and, from what I hear, she’s obviously the life and soul of the local community. If it’s not WI cake stalls and fêtes it’s amateur dramatics and charity garden parties. And it’s not us she misses. It’s you . You and the girls!’ Helen opened the wardrobe and grabbed a hanger for her crumpled silk dress.
    ‘Don’t be like that.’
    ‘Like what ? I’m just sick of her criticism. I know she doesn’t understand it, but I need my work. It helps keep me sane. I can’t do cosy country domesticity, you know that.’
    ‘I do.’ Richard moved across the room and reached for her hand. ‘And that’s why I love you. Helen, no one is saying you should give up your job.’
    ‘Really?’ She eyed her husband.
    ‘Of course not. At least, I’m not. I know how important it is to you. I think it’s great you’ve found something you love doing, and frankly, if it’s good for you, then it’s good for us, as a family. Right?’
    Slightly mollified, Helen released her hand from his grasp and reached for her dress.
    ‘I just sometimes wish you wouldn’t act like it was some terrible penance being down here,’ Richard tried softly. ‘I mean, it’s not so completely dreadful, is it?’
    Helen didn’t answer. Instead she smoothed at the wrinkles in her dress before hanging it in the closet.
    Richard sighed and tried again. ‘It would mean so much to me if you could both get along.’
    ‘I’ve been trying for twelve years now, Richard. Perhaps it’s your mother who you should be having this little conversation with.’ Helen threw her make-up bag onto the dressing table. The sight of it suddenly reminded her of Cassie’s painted nails and she scowled again in irritation. Things between her and Richard were usually pretty even-tempered, safe and stable – sometimes boringly so – but whenever it came to Daphne and Clifftops, it always got tense. It didn’t seem to matter what Daphne did, Richard always defended his mother. Helen used to think it was an admirable trait, but it was starting to grate. What about her? She was his wife after all, and she was growing increasingly sick of always coming second. She grabbed her coat and stalked towards the bedroom door.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    ‘Just out. I need some fresh air.’
    ‘Would you like company?’
    ‘Not right now.’ She knew it was wrong to take it out on Richard, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about being back in the old farmhouse that drove her a little crazy.
    ‘Well, don’t be late