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

caravans were all untouched. The pink one nearest to hers, where she’d seen the intruders, had been sprayed in one corner but she must have interrupted the vandals before they could do more. A couple of aerosol cans had been abandoned on the ground.

She turned as a wide beam of light fell on her.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Corin said. ‘I told you to lock yourself inside. You don’t know what might have been out here.’

‘I’ve faced a lot worse than three kids with aerosol sprays,’ she said, kicking the cans with her foot. ‘Do you think bored teenagers have been behind all the trouble? Have there been problems with local kids before?’

‘How do you know they were kids?’

‘I saw them when they were running away. They were tall and lanky, and fast. Too fast for me to catch them,’ she added with regret.

‘Did you confront them?’ Anger laced his words. ‘You should have phoned me as soon as you heard a noise. You could have been hurt.’

‘I’ve looked after myself for years. I don’t need you to start doing it for me.’

Briefly, a strange tension seemed to hum in the darkness and the silence of the night, and then Corin sighed, as if letting go of whatever he had intended to say.

‘You are infuriatingly independent,’ he said. Mim laughed.

‘Sorry to disappoint you. I know you’re used to squealing women throwing themselves at you, but I’m a different sort of woman and come from a different world. I don’t need a hero.’ She shone her torch on the damaged area of the caravan. ‘I won’t refuse your help to fix this, though. This caravan isn’t too bad, but mine and the blue one have paint on all sides. Instead of fussing about me, let’s worry about how we’re going to sort this out in two days…’

After a couple of hours’ sleep, Mim was up at five the next morning to start work on cleaning the caravans. Some brief internet research the night before had revealed that the sooner they set to work the better, and certainly within the first twenty-four hours before the paint dried. The forecasted warm, sunny weather was now unwelcome, as it would speed up the drying time. Every minute was crucial. Mim had been prepared to work through the night until Corin had pointed out with infuriating sense that they risked spreading the paint if they couldn’t see what they were doing.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it was light enough to see and Mim inspected the caravans more carefully now. She didn’t know if it was better or worse than she’d anticipated. The garish graffiti paint made a glaring contrast with the soft pastel shades chosen for the caravans, like a streak of fresh blood on pale skin. The good news was that there was only a wavy line along each side, not a full drawing. The vandals who had done this were no graffiti artists.

She was returning to her own caravan when Corin drove through the gates and parked on the drive. Mim wasn’t surprised to see him. They hadn’t arranged to meet but she’d expected him to turn up at some point.

‘You’re lucky I’m not still in bed,’ she said, as he got out of the car.

‘I know you better than that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Although I did wonder if you’d have worked through the night. Have you actually listened to my advice for once?’

‘Don’t let it go to your head. This was too important to get wrong.’ She followed him round to the boot of the car. ‘What have you brought?’

‘Anything that the internet suggested might prove useful. Buckets, towels, sponges.’ He began to empty the boot. ‘Microfibre cloths, cooking oil, baby oil. Mrs Dennis is going to be furious as I raided her supplies and took most of the spare towels from the house. The only thing I don’t have is nail varnish remover. I don’t suppose you have any?’

‘No.’ She held up her hands. ‘These hands are made for work, not decoration.’ She grabbed a bucket. ‘Shall we start with soap and water?’

They filled up two buckets and agreed to start work on the back of Mim’s caravan, which was the least conspicuous place. Mim dipped the corner of the towel in the water and gingerly rubbed at a patch of the paint. Nothing happened. She tried again, rubbing harder. There was some evidence of colour transferring to the towel but no noticeable difference on the caravan wall. She tried a third time, with a fresh patch of towel.

‘Does that look any different?’ she asked Corin, pointing to the patch she was working on. He bent down beside her to peer where she was pointing. She caught a sudden whiff of fruity shampoo; his hair was damp from the shower and beginning to curl out from the nape of his neck as it dried. He tilted his head to look at her.

‘A little.’ He smiled. ‘Shall we try the baby oil next?’

Mim was temporarily robbed of words by the unexpected image that flashed into her head as Corin continued to smile at her. She jumped up in relief when she heard another car approaching and peered round the side of the caravan.

‘It’s Bobby,’ she said. ‘Did you call him?’

‘I knew he wouldn’t mind an early start. We can call on the others when it’s a more civilised hour.’

‘This is going to take forever, isn’t it?’ she said, doubt creeping in. ‘We’d need an army to have any chance of fixing it.’

‘Then we’ll have to find an army.’

All very well for him to say but Mim was conscious that she wouldn’t be much use. She didn’t know anyone to call on other than Karen and Heather, and that would depend on Karen’s work shifts. Speaking of work… Mim checked her watch and groaned. She was due at the shop in a couple of hours. Would Janet give her some time off, as it was an emergency? She would