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

‘I have proof in the caravan.’

‘Do run along and fetch it, Mim dear, then this ghastly woman might finally go,’ Bea said. ‘I’m tempted to call the police after all and report her for squatting.’

‘You’re letting her leave?’ Yvonne said. ‘She might run away.’

‘Where would she run to? This is her home.’ Bea sighed. ‘Corin, will you go with Mim and make sure she comes back? Heaven knows no one could blame her if she didn’t.’

‘And who’s to say they won’t run away together?’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous.’ Corin didn’t wait to hear anything further but marched out of the room, swiftly followed by Mim. He was halfway down the track before he slowed his pace and she was able to catch up.

‘Now I see why you weren’t daunted by Janet,’ he said. ‘You’ve encountered far worse. Where did that God-awful woman spring up from?’

Mim laughed, and it felt like such a relief after the tension of the last half hour.

‘They’re not all like her up north,’ she said. ‘There are good people too.’

‘I know.’ He looked at her and smiled.

‘She saw the story in the newspaper and tracked me down.’

‘Ah. Something else we owe you an apology for then. I’d no idea they were going to do that. I was away or I’d have stopped them,’ he said. ‘Mum and Lia had the best intentions. They always do. It doesn’t always help though, does it?’

‘No.’ They reached the gate and walked towards Mim’s caravan. She stopped at the bottom of the steps.

‘Thanks for believing me,’ she said.

‘Why wouldn’t I? You’re the most honest person I know. It’s one of the things…’ He stopped and put his hand on the banister rail. ‘I’m sorry about that conversation on the launch day. I only meant that I thought you disapproved of the idle rich. It wasn’t a criticism of you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ It was true. She’d spoken in the heat of the moment on the day of the charity launch and had regretted it since. She’d seen Corin in all sorts of company – with working-class men in the Boat and with the upper-class people at the Valentine dinner – and he treated everyone with the same easy friendship. And that was the way he treated her too. She hadn’t realised the value of it until she thought she’d thrown it away.

‘But Henry isn’t really the idle rich,’ Corin continued. He rubbed his hand over the banister rail. ‘He isn’t stuck-up or snobby either. Don’t let my clumsy words put you off, if you like him.’

Mim unlocked the caravan and he followed her in.

‘Wait there a minute,’ she said. She went into the bedroom and reached under the bed to pull out a battered old shoe box. The cardboard sides had softened over the years and it was now held together with a couple of elastic bands. She took them off and removed the lid, moving a few items onto the bed while she searched for what she wanted.

‘What’s that?’ Corin was in the doorway, watching her. Mim sighed.

‘I don’t think I invited you into my bedroom,’ she said. She smiled. ‘You don’t own the place yet, son and heir.’

He ignored her and wandered in.

‘I came to see if you needed a hand.’ He gestured at the box. ‘What is all this?’

‘It’s my emergency box.’ She shrugged. ‘I was moved around a lot, sometimes at short notice. It was easier to keep in one box the things I couldn’t be without. I could grab it and go if I needed to.’

‘But you haven’t unpacked it here.’

‘No.’ It was hard to explain. She hadn’t unpacked it at the hotel either, even after ten years – and that had proved to be the right decision, hadn’t it? She’d been evicted from there at short notice too. But she wasn’t giving up hope. ‘Maybe one day I’ll find a home – not just a place to stay – where I feel safe,’ she said, ‘and then I might unpack it. If not, I’ll be needing a new box. This one’s on its last legs, isn’t it?’

Corin stared down at the assortment of items spread across the bed and visible in the box. On the top lay a photo of Mim as a tiny baby with her mum and dad, barely more than children themselves, from a time she couldn’t remember but had always thought must have been the happiest moment of her childhood; it was the only memento of her dad she had. There were her birth and exam certificates, a medal she had won in a maths competition at school, a photo of Gordon behind the bar at the hotel, the pebble containing the ammonite that she had found on the beach, the local newspaper article with the picture of her, Lia, and Corin… She wished she could scoop it all up in her arms and hide it from his gaze, so he couldn’t see how little there was to her life. She picked out a memory stick and the car registration document from the bottom of the box and piled everything else back in, stowing it away again under the bed.

‘If any of these treasures are stolen now, I’ll be pointing my finger at you,’ she said, trying to make a joke of it. He didn’t smile. ‘Don’t be giving me that pity face again. Did no one ever tell you that if the wind changes you might be stuck like that? Imagine the disappointment among the single women of Devon.’

She weasled a smile out of him at that and they returned to the house with the memory stick. Corin brought in a laptop from the study.

‘Here’s the car registration document,’ Mim said, passing it to Yvonne while the computer switched on. ‘The car is in my name. You can’t argue with that.’

Yvonne looked like she might try but Corin whisked the paper out of her hand. Mim opened the contents of the memory stick. It was all here, all