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

garden looked stunning, lit by braziers and warmed by fire pits, but she veered away from the crowd on the lawn and headed for the shadows created by a group of trees, from where she could watch in peace.

The display started with an explosion of colour as rockets of red, blue, and green fizzed through the sky. Mim was in the wrong place for the best view and she stepped backwards to find a better position, crashing into something warm and solid. She spun round, her heart thumping. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could make out the tall figure of someone leaning against a tree trunk and could hear their steady breaths.

‘Sorry to startle you,’ the person said. It was a man’s voice, and a posh one – although all southern accents sounded posh to her. Why he thought he should apologise was a mystery when she had bumped into him. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone else to hide out under the trees.’

‘I’m not hiding,’ Mim said. ‘Are you?’

‘I’m stealing five minutes’ peace. That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

The sky lit up with a kaleidoscope of colours and Mim caught a glimpse of her companion: tall, strong, dazzling smile. He was wearing black trousers and a white open-necked shirt, the uniform of the male waiters, and his sleeves were rolled up to show muscular arms that looked like they’d known hard graft. He was holding a bottle of Champagne. No wonder he was hiding. He must be one of the bar staff and have grabbed the bottle as he left. And she’d felt guilty enough for taking an abandoned glass!

‘Have some more Champagne,’ he said, sloshing the liquid in the general direction of her glass. Most of it trickled down her hand and, in the flickering light between fireworks, he reached out and brushed it away. His touch was warm and felt extraordinarily intimate.

‘Did you pay for that?’ Mim asked, whisking her hand away quickly.

‘No.’ He took a long swig from the bottle. ‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

‘What gave it away?’

The only reply was a quiet laugh which echoed in the darkness.

‘It’s a strange time, New Year, isn’t it?’ he continued, his voice clear despite the backdrop of fireworks. ‘It makes you reflect too much. About the ways the old year didn’t work out as you’d hoped. About the emptiness of the year ahead. About how different things might be, if you’d been born into another life. Don’t you think?’

He was drunk. Mim wondered why she hadn’t realised that before. Perhaps he’d been helping himself from the bar all night. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was a maudlin drunk feeling sorry for himself.

‘No,’ she said. ‘There’s no point envying the people here. If you don’t like what you’ve got in life, change it. There’s always something you can do. You can’t stop trying, however bad it gets.’

‘Are you one of those relentlessly cheerful people for whom the glass is always half full?’ he asked.

‘I’m one of those relentlessly poor people and I’m always grateful to have a glass.’

Fireworks flashed over their heads again. He was closer than she’d realised and looking right at her. She could feel heat radiating off his body and see curiosity in his face. She raised her Champagne glass to him, in a mock toast, and that smile shone out again, so luminous that it was hard to look away. The moment was broken when cheers rang out from the garden and the guests started to sing a ragged version of ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

‘Happy New Year,’ the man said, and he clinked his bottle against her glass. ‘Let’s make the most of that glass and have another drink.’

‘I have to go.’ Her break was over and presumably his was too. There was still a huge amount of clearing up to be done and thirsty guests to serve.

‘Disappearing on the stroke of midnight?’ He laughed. ‘Who are you, Cinderella? Will you leave me your shoe as you escape?’

‘I’d better not.’ She smiled. ‘It’s the only pair I’ve got.’

Chapter Three

It felt like déjà vu when Mim was woken the next morning by a knock on her caravan door. This time, Bea was standing on the veranda wearing a large pair of sunglasses despite the mist swirling around her and the general dreariness of the day. Mim stifled a pang of disappointment at this Lancashire-like weather. Shouldn’t it always be glorious down south?

‘Aha, you’re still here,’ Bea said. ‘Can I come in?’

She didn’t wait for an answer, but brushed past Mim and sank down onto the sofa that ran along the wall in the lounge area of the caravan.

‘Sorry, I must have overslept,’ Mim said. Overslept again. This Devon sea air was knocking her out more effectively than sleeping tablets. ‘I can be gone in ten minutes, if that’s okay?’ Bea didn’t seem to be listening. She was rubbing her head and groaning quietly. Mim swallowed a huge chunk of pride and forced herself to carry on. ‘I don’t think I have enough petrol to get me back to Lancashire and I’m short on cash at the moment. Would you mind filling the car up?’

‘Why is it so cold in here?’ Bea asked. She was wearing an oversized camel cardigan that Mim suspected was worth more than her Volvo, but still shivered and wrapped it more tightly round herself. ‘Are the heaters broken?’

‘I didn’t switch them on.’

‘Whyever not?’

‘Because they would have cost money to run.’

‘Pooh! Pennies.’ Bea dismissed this with a flap of her hand. ‘You can’t put a price on being warm.’

Mim could. She remembered all too well the places she’d lived before finding work with Gordon at the hotel. There had been many days when she’d had to choose between putting 50p in the gas meter or buying food. The price of warmth had been hunger. Whatever happened, whatever it took, she wasn’t going back to those days again.

‘So, about the petrol?’ Mim asked