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He sat in the sand a few yards away from the Surf Shack, the books disgarded beside him, leant back slightly on his hands. It was coming to the end of the tourist season, but the international side to the business would keep them riding easy. His ocean blue gaze flickers of his daughter playing in the shallows on her skim board, cautious as ever of the mature-headed little girl. It was easy to forget she was only seven, she acted like his mother more than his daughter.
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