Finding Home by Kate Field (read book .txt) 📗

you some helpers. The more we have, the faster the work will be done, won’t it? I haven’t seen the caravans, but Bobby’s told me about them. We can give you a hand with the manual labour: stripping out the contents, painting, weeding. We’ll give anything a go. A lot of people in this village have benefitted from a helping hand at the right moment. We’d love the chance to pay it forward.’

It sounded like a brilliant idea to Mim. If they could find a team of volunteers who wouldn’t need paying, that would leave more money for the people who needed it.

‘I’ll have to check with Bea and Bill,’ she said, ‘as it’s their land, but it sounds perfect to me. There’s something else you could help with,’ she added to Heather. ‘You said your cousin had been on a holiday like this before. Do you think she’d come here, when one of the caravans is ready, to test out what it’s like? It could be a dummy run before real members of the public arrive.’

‘I’m sure she’d love to. It will need to be in the school holidays, though. When are you hoping to have your first visitors?’

‘There isn’t a fixed date. It will depend on how long it takes to set up a charity, but it would be a shame if we weren’t ready for summer.’

‘You should aim for May half-term,’ Karen said. ‘So that would mean the trial would have to be at Easter.’

‘Easter?’ Mim repeated. ‘That’s early April this year, isn’t it? We won’t be ready by then.’

‘Why not?’ Karen smiled. ‘It gives us at least eight weeks. How long do you need?’

Chapter Ten

Corin turned up at the pub on Sunday night, on his own this time. He approached Mim at the bar and ordered a pint for himself and a half for her.

‘If only you had a mobile phone, I could have sent you a message instead of coming here,’ he said, handing over his money. ‘It would be better for my wallet and my liver.’

‘You could always have come into the shop. You could have spoken to me for the price of a penny chew there.’ Mim grinned. ‘Is something the matter? Is it about the caravans?’

‘No, it’s about the fossil walk. I’m running a guided walk tomorrow and wondered if you’d still like to come.’

‘What time? I’ll be swimming in the morning.’

‘I need to leave at ten thirty. Will that suit you?’

‘Go on then. I’ll miss out on the after-swimming cakes just this once. I have to know whether this walk is as deadly dull as Lia says.’

Corin laughed.

‘I’ll pick you up in the morning.’ He waved at a middle-aged couple who had just entered the pub and started towards them.

‘Hang on,’ Mim called. ‘Do I need to bring anything?’

‘Curiosity and an open mind,’ Corin said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Mim was ready and waiting the next morning when Corin pulled up in front of her caravan just before ten thirty. He was driving a 4x4, but a considerably older and scruffier one than the car that had let down Bill and Bea on the day Mim had first met them in Lancashire. Was that only a few weeks ago? It seemed much longer.

‘I’m glad to see you’re so keen,’ Corin said, when Mim entered the car before he had the chance to switch off the engine. She didn’t want to risk him coming into the caravan this time, as her knickers were drying over the kitchen sink. ‘I brought you these.’

He waited until Mim had fastened her seatbelt then handed her a white cardboard box. There were four cakes inside: an iced finger smothered in yellow icing, a chocolate éclair, a doughnut oozing jam, and a scone sandwiched with jam and cream.

‘I didn’t know what you’d like, so I brought a selection,’ he said.

‘I like everything. Are these all for me?’

‘Yes. I didn’t want you to miss out on your after-swim cakes.’

‘No offence to Heather and Karen, but the cakes we have don’t come close to these. Thanks.’

Mim picked up the iced finger first and gave a soft moan of pleasure when she bit into it and discovered a delicious seam of lemon curd running through the centre.

‘Good?’ Corin asked. Mim nodded as she took another bite and he smiled.

There wasn’t much conversation on the journey as Mim was busy eating – although she stopped at two cakes, deciding to save the scone and the doughnut for lunch. She was also engrossed in staring out of the window. They were travelling in a different direction than she’d taken when driving Bea to Exeter, and she was enjoying stretching the edges of her world. There was so much more time to observe as a passenger and she studied the villages that straddled each side of the main road, and the hills that rose and fell away on Corin’s side, revealing snatched glimpses of the sea. She also noticed several caravan parks, filled with rows of mobiles homes facing out to sea.

‘I didn’t realise there were so many holiday parks here,’ she said, gesturing towards another. ‘We’re not going to stir up trouble with the owners by offering free holidays at Vennhallow, are we?’

‘Unlikely. It’s a popular area – and can you wonder, with a view like that? Mum and Dad meant well, but their six caravans in a field with no sea view were never going to compete with the likes of these places.’

‘Didn’t you tell them that, before they dug up a field and spent their money?’ Mim asked. ‘There’s no benefit in being wise after the event.’

‘I wasn’t here. It was too late to stop it by the time I heard about the plan.’

Too busy living the high life in London, Mim guessed. Wasn’t that what posh people did? Hang about fancy restaurants and exclusive nightclubs? Attend society weddings and lavish parties? She’d seen it often enough in the tabloid newspapers and magazines they’d received in the hotel.