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

background. I can’t help my family’s wealth, or the size of the house they live in, or that they choose exotic holidays and expensive clothes. None of that is me. All I ever wanted was a roof over my head and a job I loved. A quiet, contented life. I thought you might understand.’

‘Surely Bea and Bill wouldn’t have forced you to work in the business if you didn’t want to?’ Mim replied. ‘They’re good people. They love you.’

‘I know.’ He smiled, but it wasn’t the dazzling smile that Mim was used to. ‘And I love them. That’s the problem. A loving family brings responsibilities as well as rewards.’ He tugged Dickens’s lead to bring the dog back to him. ‘We reached a compromise. I’d follow my path until I was forty and then come back to join the business. The plan had to change last year when Dad was ill. But you’re right. It was my choice to come back early. No one forced me.’ He stood up, and the look he gave Mim seemed laced with regret. ‘Enough of this. You’re the last person I should ever complain to. I’m not doing much to dispel your image of the spoilt rich, am I? Just … don’t be too quick to judge, okay?’

Chapter Fifteen

The caravans were ready. The weather forecast was predicting a gorgeous weekend with clear blue skies and temperatures in the low twenties. Lia and Ros had exploited all of their social contacts and organised a launch party for As You Like It holidays to take place on the last Saturday of April. Mim was gutted to be missing it, but when she went to bed on Wednesday night, with two days to go, she was satisfied that she’d done everything she could to make the event a success. The beds were made up with crisp white linen, every piece of crockery, cutlery, and glassware shone, and the bathrooms gleamed. Based on the feedback from the trial at Easter, she’d added some finishing touches, and now a shelf of paperback books graced each living room, together with a box of board games and jigsaws and a folder of tourist information leaflets and local information. It all looked perfect and she couldn’t have been prouder of what they had achieved.

She fell into an exhausted sleep easily enough, but tossed and turned as her mind went through the details again, looking for anything they might have missed. She sat up to make a note on the pad of paper beside her bed and as she did, a light flickered across her bedroom window. She watched but it didn’t happen again. She waited, straining to hear any noise and then it came – the quiet rumble of a voice. There was someone outside.

She picked up her phone and switched on the torch function; she’d never been so grateful for Bea’s birthday gift. She picked her way to the front door, stepped outside, and shouted, ‘Stop! Don’t anyone move.’

She had no idea why she shouted that; it was the first thing that came into her head. It was what the police shouted on TV shows, wasn’t it? No matter. It had an effect. She saw three tall figures beside the nearest caravan, and as she moved towards them, they grabbed their torches from the ground and ran away through the gate in the direction of the coastal path. They were fast. Mim would have no chance of catching them up.

She dashed back into the bedroom and threw on some clothes and shoes with growing fury. Had they been trying to burgle the caravans? There was nothing in them of particular value except the televisions, but it was the principle of the thing; who would steal from a charity? She didn’t think they could have taken much as she hadn’t spotted them carrying anything, but if they’d messed up her pristine caravans she’d be livid.

It was only when she stepped outside and turned back to close her caravan door that she noticed. The slim light from her phone lit up the side of the caravan and illuminated a squiggle of bright red paint that ran the entire length of the wall. She followed the veranda and found that all four walls had been daubed in the same way.

For a moment, despair threatened to overwhelm her. A burglary would have been bad but televisions were easy enough to replace. This was devastating. This had undone hours of painstaking work. A huge number of potential donors were coming to the launch on Saturday, as well as the local press, and were expecting to see an attractive holiday park, ready to welcome families in need. What would they think now?

She took a deep breath. There was no time for despair. They had two days and two nights to fix this. She didn’t know if it was possible, but she wasn’t going to give up without trying. Never mind the fact that it had taken them weeks to reach this stage. She wouldn’t lose hope until the first guests started to arrive on Saturday.

She went back inside the caravan and dialled Corin’s number. She didn’t think he was going to answer until finally the call connected and she heard a scuffle as if he’d dropped the phone and a soft expletive.

‘Mim?’ His voice was husky with sleep, gravel in the usual smooth tone as he said her name. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘The spray painters have been back. They’ve attacked my caravan.’

‘Stay inside and lock the door. I’ll be right over.’

She switched the torch back on and headed across the field to the caravan opposite hers. The glossy blue exterior was now decorated with a wiggly orange stripe that ran round all four sides, covering walls and windows. Something crunched under her foot and she noticed that the flowerpots had been smashed, and flowers and soil spread across the veranda. It was heartbreaking to see.

She carried on exploring and found some relief. The yellow, grey, and lavender