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

Lia’s clothes were slightly tight, but as Mim studied herself in the tarnished mirror on the back of the wardrobe door, a recognisable version of herself stared back: smart, professional, clean, uncrumpled – a far cry from the figure that had unfolded from the back seat of the Volvo for the last couple of weeks. For twenty-four hours, she could be someone useful again, someone respectable. She was going to enjoy it.

Mim stepped out of the caravan and took her first look at her surroundings in daylight. It had been dark when she arrived here last night, but now she could see that she was in a field that was set out like a residential cul-de-sac. A gravel road entered in one corner and swung round in a wavy circle, leading to six static caravans that were scattered through the field, spaced well apart and tucked away between trees to give each an impression of privacy. Each caravan was parked at a different angle and was surrounded by a large veranda.

It was a blissful location, even on a crisp winter morning when the bare branches of the trees danced in the wind and the grass shimmered with a layer of frost. But as Mim turned back to lock her caravan – the first one, nearest the gate leading out of the field – first impressions gave way to reality. The exterior of the caravan, once a pale cream, was now stained with green leaf residue and streaks from dirty rainwater. The veranda was in desperate need of a lick of paint too, and some of the spindles around the edge looked rotten. The plant containers which should have brightened the veranda were either overgrown with leggy plants or empty. As Mim looked across the whole site, she saw that the other caravans were in a similar condition, and weeds sprouted up through the gravel drive.

‘What is this place?’ she asked Lia, as she followed her towards the gate. ‘Why is it empty?’

‘Daddy,’ Lia said, as if this one word could answer all possible questions on the subject. ‘It wasn’t one of his most successful schemes. I think people came to stay when the caravans first opened, but no one has been near here for years. I’d forgotten all about them until Mummy mentioned you were here.’

Forgotten all about a collection of caravans that must be worth tens of thousands of pounds? What sort of world was she living in? A very different one than she was used to, Mim realised a few minutes later as they passed the garage where her car was parked – now surrounded by an army of vans belonging to caterers, florists, and beauticians – and followed the track round the tall conifer hedge she had noticed the night before. Lia carried on towards the front door of the building in front of them, while Mim stopped and stared.

‘Come on,’ Lia called, glancing back. ‘Don’t let breakfast go cold.’

‘Breakfast is here?’ Mim asked. She gestured towards the building before them. ‘This is your house?’

‘Of course.’ Lia laughed. ‘This is Vennhallow. What did you think it was?’

Mim shrugged. A hotel, maybe? Although it was larger than the hotel where she had worked for the last ten years with her friend Gordon. This building was… Words failed her. It was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. It was a long two-storey building, at least as wide as six or seven terraced houses if measured against the houses that Mim was more used to seeing. The white painted walls were broken up with a regular series of high, wide windows that she imagined must allow the light to flood in, and it was all topped with a grey slate roof and half a dozen tall chimneys. There was a pleasing lack of symmetry about the house that made it feel approachable rather than too perfect. Even so, could Mim really go inside? It looked like she had no choice; Lia was already at the door, waiting for her to go through.

‘Everyone’s in the kitchen,’ Lia said as Mim tentatively followed her through the wooden front door and into a spacious hall. There was hardly time to take in much detail beyond the staircase that was twice as wide as any Mim had seen before and the massive Christmas tree, as Lia rushed along a corridor and through a door that opened into what could only be the kitchen. It was an enormous space. The first section contained the kitchen cupboards and cooking equipment, and a team of aproned caterers were moving around here with quiet efficiency. Beyond that, a huge table seating at least a dozen people stretched across the centre of the room. It was laden with plates, tea pots, and cafetières, and a number of people flocked around it.

But there was no time to study them, and no more thought about food, despite the tempting aromas wafting around. The furthest part of the room was a modern extension, furnished with squashy sofas and constructed of floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Mim was irresistibly drawn over until her nose was pressed to the glass. Beyond a lawn filled with a cream marquee, beyond another field, she had her first glimpse of the sea. It was only a tiny strip before the headland curved round and cut off the view, but it looked magical as it sparkled as the winter sun rose in the sky.

‘Mim? Mim.’ Lia tapped her on the arm to get her attention, and Mim reluctantly tore her gaze away from the view. Lia smiled.

‘Admiring the view?’ she asked.

‘How could you not?’ Mim smiled back. ‘It’s amazing.’

‘You sound like Mummy. She insisted on building this extension so she could see the sea. None of the other rooms have much of a view because of the angle at which the house was built.’ Lia shrugged. ‘I can’t say it bothers me. Half the time it’s obscured by mist anyway. Besides, it’s not exactly the Caribbean, is it?’

‘I