Finding Home by Kate Field (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

‘She is. She had no idea what was happening until we arrived at the hospital. You know that she’s longing for as many grandchildren as possible.’

‘I do know.’ That sounded a heartfelt comment from Corin. ‘And I love you for sparing me the job.’

‘You will never be spared, son and heir.’ Ros laughed and squeezed his hand. ‘I’ve bought you some time, that’s all.’

Mim had been listening to this exchange with open curiosity. Ros was pregnant again? Mim was exhausted after a few hours of looking after two children; she couldn’t imagine how Ros would manage with a third – or, frankly, how she’d found the energy to be expecting a third at all. Mim was ready for bed and sleep was the only thing on her mind. The thought made her yawn.

‘Sorry,’ Ros said, smiling at Mim. ‘Have they worn you out? I’ll take them off your hands and you can carry on without them.’ She flicked a mischievous look between Mim and Corin, and Mim caught the resemblance to Lia in it. She struggled out from under the blanket and stood up.

‘I’d better be going anyway if you don’t need me any more,’ she said, looking round for her shoes. She spotted them by the front door, lined up between Corin’s and the children’s. How had that happened? Her coat was hanging above them on the pegs. She pulled it down.

‘Shall I walk you home?’ Corin asked. ‘It’s dark now.’

‘You’re all right. I can manage.’ She opened the door, and a gust of wind blew in and broke the spell of the cosy room inside. She smiled at Corin. ‘Thanks for the story.’

Chapter Nine

Mim didn’t see any member of the Howard family over the next few days. There were no early morning knocks on the caravan door, no encounters on the lane, no visits to the Boat, no more stories in front of the fire. She was surprised how much she missed them, after only knowing them a few weeks. But contact didn’t completely stop. She found a carrier bag outside her door one morning, beside Bobby’s box of vegetables. There were two paperback books inside it, one about an attempt to climb Mount Everest and one about an expedition to the North Pole. They looked like well-thumbed books. There was a sticky note stuck on the cover of one with a few words written in a neat hand:

A couple of my favourites. You might find them more fun than Winnie. Corin.

She’d told Heather she wasn’t a reader and that was true. But she picked up the book on Mount Everest one breakfast time, intending only to flick through the pictures, and she was soon so engrossed that she only made it for her shift in the deli with a minute to spare. She read it in her lunch break, huddled in the car when it rained and on the beach when it was dry; she read it in the gap between shifts at the shop and at the bar; and even at the end of an exhausting day, she devoured more pages as she curled under her duvet at night.

She sought Corin out as soon as he arrived for dinner at Vennhallow on Monday evening, even though he was the last to arrive and Bea was trying to usher everyone towards the dining room.

‘Thanks for the books,’ she said. ‘I’ve started the one about Everest. It’s brilliant.’

‘You like it?’ He looked genuinely pleased. ‘I hoped you might. The author showed incredible resilience, carrying on to the summit despite the initial difficulties. That’s why it reminded me of you.’

With that cryptic comment, he let Bea lead him to the dining room. Mim hadn’t been in here before and it was as impressive as the rest of the house. A long wooden table filled the centre of the room and was set with seven places. An array of crystal glasses and ornate cutlery glittered in the light cast by a modern chandelier over the table, and the whole scene was reflected back in the dark windows along one wall. Mim thought of the tables she had set in the hotel dining room, with bulk-buy glasses and budget cutlery and china. She’d done her best with it and been proud of the results, but it had never looked as magnificent as this. She would have loved to have laid this table, never mind sitting at it to eat.

Mim was seated at one end of the table with Bill and Lia, while Corin, Bea, and Ros took the other end and Jonty occupied the middle. Corin and Bea carried in the food: platters of thickly sliced roast beef, crisp roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, and bowls of steaming vegetables. They refused Mim’s repeated offers to help.

‘We’ve not started a diplomatic crisis, have we?’ Bill asked, pointing at the pile of golden Yorkshire puddings in front of Mim. ‘Are we allowed to serve Yorkshire food to a Lancastrian?’

‘There would have been a bigger crisis if you hadn’t,’ Mim replied. ‘I’m impressed. I didn’t know you ate Yorkshires down south.’

‘Are we southerners a more civilised breed than you expected?’ Corin asked. He set a jug of gravy on the table in front of Mim, and laughed as she took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent. ‘Your nose is twitching like Dickens’s would.’

‘Where is Dickens?’ Mim said, leaning back to check the floor in case she’d missed him. ‘I thought you took him everywhere.’

‘They are totally inseparable,’ Lia called across the table. ‘Is it surprising that Dickens is his only friend when he repeatedly compares people to a dog? You are so mean to poor Mim, Corin. Will Dickens be your date for the Valentine dinner?’

‘I think he might be washing his hair that night.’ Corin sat down next to Bea. ‘I’d do the same if I could.’

‘Don’t be such a misery,’ Bea said. ‘You haven’t been for years. Everyone will be looking forward to seeing