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

independence. We did this as a surprise, so that you had a proper place of your own and to stop you having any thoughts of leaving.’

Mim sank down onto the sofa and nestled into one of the cushions. It was every bit as comfortable as she’d anticipated. The whole caravan looked amazing. It was hard to take in that it was for her. So many people must have worked long hours over the last week to get this ready, and all for her. All so that she would stay. She really wasn’t in the way, or outstaying her welcome. She didn’t have to leave. She couldn’t speak; it was too overwhelming.

Bea sat down beside her and gently took her hand.

‘We lost a child, Mim,’ she said, unexpectedly. ‘It was a late miscarriage, a couple of years after Ros was born. That’s why there was such a gap before Olly. We were too scared to try again for a long time. It was another girl, and I still think of her as my number two-point-five. Can you guess what we were going to call her?’ Mim thought she could, despite her limited knowledge of Shakespeare. ‘Miranda,’ Bea continued. ‘She was our Miranda. And now you’ll think me foolish, but that day we met in Lancashire, it felt as if she had sent you to our rescue. As it turned out, perhaps she had sent us to your rescue too.’

Bea brushed tears from her cheeks. Mim’s cheeks were wet too. She acted on impulse. She leaned forward and put her arms round Bea, the gesture feeling at once unfamiliar and completely natural.

‘So why all the questions about Gordon?’ Mim asked, when they eventually broke apart. ‘He really was a friend, nothing more. Looking back, perhaps I should have had a contract and a formal wage, but it didn’t seem important at the time. The arrangement worked for us. I was used to living one day at a time and not dwelling on the future. I didn’t expect to inherit anything from him.’

‘I hoped you might have some money of your own, to give you opportunities,’ Bea explained. ‘You’re a bright young woman. You could do better than selling bananas in Janet’s shop. You must have had some ambitions when you were growing up.’

‘My ambitions were to have a safe place to live, an honest job, and to survive each day.’ Mim smiled. ‘Don’t knock selling bananas. I think my teenage self would be impressed.’

‘But don’t you wish for more?’ Bea pressed.

‘Oh, if we’re talking about wishes…’ Mim laughed. Of course she’d nursed wishes over the years. A home of her own, however modest. A family of her own, however small. A stable job, where she might have money left over at the end of the week for the occasional treat, maybe even a holiday. Wishing was the easy part. ‘If Bill can invent a way to make wishes come true, be sure to send him my way.’

‘And where will he find you?’ Bea asked. ‘Will you still be here?’

Mim smiled and gestured around.

‘Look how gorgeous this place is. I’d be daft not to stay, wouldn’t I? I think you’re going to be stuck with me for a bit longer.’

Chapter Fourteen

At last the Easter weekend arrived. The weather was forecast to be dry and mild for the entire four days, and Mim couldn’t resist comparing the weather in Lancashire and feeling smug that she was missing out on heavy rain and winds. She didn’t think the novelty of going outside without a coat in early April would ever wear thin.

They had made good progress on the caravans. Four were now fully painted on the outside, with a powder-blue and pale-yellow added to the collection; the group of caravans reminded Mim of the lines of colourful beach huts she’d seen on the postcards in the deli. Three of the interiors had been renovated, including Mim’s. She supposed she should feel guilty that the charity’s work had slowed down for her, but she was far too snug in her cosy caravan to let it bother her for long.

Heather’s cousin was due to arrive at lunchtime on Friday and would stay for three nights to test out one of the caravans and to identify any problems before the charity was officially launched on the last Saturday in April. Mim was gutted that she would miss out on the fun, as she would be working through the weekend as usual. She had asked Janet for one day off but had been told that if she took time off over the busiest weekend of the year, she needn’t come back at all. It might have been a bluff but Mim couldn’t afford the risk.

She popped into the yellow caravan early on Friday morning to check that everything was ready. This was familiar territory; she’d done this with each hotel room before guests arrived and knew the importance of first impressions. She’d made the beds herself on Wednesday and the bedrooms needed nothing more than a last-minute flick with a duster. She plumped a cushion in the living area, tweaked a curtain so that the folds were even, and then stood back to survey the room with an objective eye. It all looked perfect.

Lia had offered to be in charge of preparing a welcome basket; the caravans would be self-catered, but they had agreed it would be a thoughtful touch to leave some basic provisions to start the holidaymakers off. The white wicker basket sat on the dining table bearing a hand-painted ‘welcome’ sign. It looked perfect, but when Mim checked the contents her heart sank. A jar of olives, walnut and seed crackers, green tomato chutney, dark chocolate truffles… Where was the pasta, the cooking oil, the bread, the eggs? There wasn’t even any milk in the fridge, only what looked like an expensive bottle of wine. Lia had clearly meant well, but perhaps she hadn’t been the ideal choice to supply basic provisions rather than