by Kate Field
‘It’s probably just as well,’ Lia said, ‘because he’s shown no sign of finding a partner. He’s a confirmed bachelor, to Mummy’s great despair. She’s been waiting for him to carry on the family name for years.’
To Mim’s relief, Lia changed the subject and spent the next twenty minutes talking non-stop about her holiday while Mim munched on the sandwich and banana she’d brought for her lunch. Lia’s exploits were totally alien to anything in Mim’s experience. The only beach she’d ever known was this pebbly one under her feet, not the endless stretches of white sand that Lia described. The only hotel she’d known was Gordon’s, where the age of the average guest was sixty and no one had asked for a cocktail in the ten years that Mim had worked there. It was endlessly fascinating to hear about such a different type of life.
‘You must go one year, if you can,’ Lia said, when she finally reached a break in her stories. ‘You’d adore it, darling.’
‘I probably would,’ Mim agreed. ‘But I’ve never had a holiday, so I’d love anything. When I was growing up, it would have seemed like the best adventure in the world to stay in your parents’ caravans for a few days.’
‘Would it?’ Lia looked thoughtful as they made their way back up to the village. ‘It is a shame they’re standing empty in that case.’
‘Why does no one use them?’
‘Oh, it was one of Daddy’s Grand Ideas,’ Lia said, giving the words definite capital letters. She laughed. ‘He always has a scheme on the go, of one sort or another. For the past few years, he’s been determined to become the Dyson of irons. I don’t know what went wrong with the caravans. I’ll have to ask Mummy.’ She paused as Mim reached the door of the shop and opened the door. Twenty-nine minutes had whizzed by in Lia’s company. Mim couldn’t risk being late. ‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ Lia asked. ‘I’ll pop round after breakfast. I’ve had the most brilliant idea!’
Mim had enjoyed a swim with Heather and Karen, eaten breakfast, stripped and washed her sheets and made a start on cleaning the outside of her caravan by the time Lia showed up the next day. It was technically after breakfast, she supposed, even though hers had been several hours ago and she was already thinking about lunch. Perhaps time ran at a different pace in the big house?
‘What are you doing?’ Lia asked, as she joined Mim at the front of the caravan. Mim looked at the sponge in her hand and the bucket of soapy water at her feet. Wasn’t it obvious?
‘I’m cleaning,’ she said. ‘The windows are filthy.’
‘I’ll mention it to Mummy. Our window cleaner can do that for you. It will ruin your nails.’
‘Too late for that,’ Mim said cheerfully, inspecting her short nails. She’d spent ten years at the hotel putting her hands in much worse than soapy water. It was no use being vain now. Lia looked horrified.
‘I’ve had the most amazing idea,’ she said, while Mim continued to wash the windows. ‘We can rent out these caravans to poor people, who can’t afford a holiday abroad. People like you – didn’t you say you’d have loved to stay here?’
‘Yes, I would,’ Mim said, dropping her sponge in the bucket and wiping her wet hands on her jeans. ‘But we couldn’t afford a holiday at all, not just a foreign one. And then I was living in care, so it was never an option.’
‘You were in care?’ Lia stared at Mim. ‘But you’re so … normal.’
‘Thanks.’ Mim smiled. ‘And so are many other people brought up in care. Who’d have thought it?’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Lia grimaced. ‘Sorry, darling. That was awful of me, wasn’t it? Shall we forget I said that?’
‘With pleasure. Have you spoken to Bill and Bea about your idea?’
‘Not exactly.’ Lia grinned. It was impossible not to like her, however tactless she was. ‘I asked Mummy why they stopped renting out the caravans. She said they were only a diversion, really, when Daddy was between inventions. They’d tried to target an upmarket customer but then glamping became all the rage rather than traditional static caravans and bookings trailed off. They couldn’t compete with the huge caravan parks along the coast for the general holidaymaker, as we didn’t have a pool or a bar, so it all fizzled out.’
It was astonishing to Mim that they had let it fizzle without a fight. Gordon’s hotel hadn’t been a huge success when she’d arrived but they’d started trying out new ideas and promotions and had never thought of giving up. Perhaps it was simply a matter of motivation. Some people needed a living and some people needed a hobby.
‘So what do you suggest?’ Lia asked. ‘Is there a way we can use the caravans to help people who can’t afford a holiday? I thought it was such a good idea.’
‘It is,’ Mim said. ‘But I’m not sure it will really make a difference unless you start giving away holidays.’
‘Well why shouldn’t we?’ Lia clapped her hands. ‘That’s the answer. We give the holidays away. I mean, it’s not as if we need the money. It’s perfect, isn’t it?’
‘You might want to speak to Bill and Bea about that.’
‘I have a better idea,’ Lia said. ‘Let’s go and speak to Corin.’
‘Corin?’ Mim repeated. ‘Why him?’
Lia was already striding away across the grass.
‘Because he’s sure to know how to do it,’ she called over her shoulder.
Mim wasn’t sure what made Corin so qualified on the subject but she abandoned her bucket, locked the caravan, and dashed after Lia.
To Mim’s surprise, they walked past Vennhallow and on down the track that led out to the village. She was about to ask where exactly they were going to find Corin when Bobby crossed their path, pushing a wheelbarrow full of cut logs. Despite the cold late-January weather, he was wearing a vest top that showed off thick muscles in his arms. He stopped when he saw them and wiped his face with his arm, making his hair stick up at the front.
‘I’ve been cutting logs,’ he said, gesturing at his barrow. ‘It’s hot work.’
‘But it gives you the most fantastic muscles,’ Lia said. ‘We’re so grateful to you for keeping us warm.’
‘No bother,’ Bobby said. The colour rose in his cheeks and he nodded and walked on with his barrow. Lia groaned.
‘Why did I mention his muscles?’ she said, turning to Mim with a look of despair. ‘Now he’ll think I was ogling him.’
From where Mim was standing, it had looked very much as if Lia had been ogling Bobby.
‘Would that be a problem?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I don’t want him to think I’m an airhead. He had to rescue me from a tree when I was thirteen – Olly had dared me to climb up and I was too scared to climb down. I’m sure Bobby has thought I’m the family idiot ever since. Why do I always say such inane things when he’s around?’
Why indeed? Mim filed away an interesting suspicion about that while they carried on down the lane until they reached the small gatehouse at the end. Lia opened the rusty gate that led on to the front path.
‘Corin’s here?’ asked Mim. It seemed an unlikely place for him to be.
‘I hope so.’ Lia checked her watch. ‘He should have finished work by now.’
‘He works?’
Lia laughed.
‘Did you think we all spent our days reclining on the sofa eating caviar? That’s only on weekends, darling.’
It was actually very close to what Mim had thought and she gave herself a mental telling off. She hated it when people made assumptions and judged her for her background, so why shouldn’t the same apply to the Howards?
‘Is he an artist, like you?’ Mim asked. ‘Is this his studio?’
‘No, this is his house.’
‘Corin lives here?’ It was a small stone building, all on one level, and – though Mim was trying not to judge – first impressions were that it was quite shabby. It was up the property ladder from her caravan but well below the opulence of Vennhallow. Why hadn’t he told her he lived here when she had accused him of being rich for living in
an enormous house?
Lia paused at the front door.
‘It’s baffling, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Can you believe he chooses to live here instead of at home with us? He moved in when he was eighteen. He likes his own space. He’s always been odd like that.’
The front door had opened while Lia was talking. Corin stood in the doorway, wearing his trademark jeans and a woolly jumper.
‘I can hear you through stone walls.’ He looked at Mim over Lia’s head and smiled. ‘Back me up here. How is it odd to want to get away from someone so loud?’
‘You won’t win Mim over to your side,’ Lia said. She linked her arm with Mim’s. ‘We’re the best of friends and she won’t hear a word against me. Aren’t you going to invite us in? We’ll literally freeze to death if we stay out here much longer.’
‘You literally won’t,’ Corin said, but he stood back and held open the door. ‘Stop crushing Mim and let her in.’
Mim flashed him a smile as Lia released her arm and she stepped inside the house. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious how awkward she still found physical contact. It was unfamiliar rather than unpleasant. She hadn’t been brought up with kind touches or with the hugs and kisses that Lia and her family exchanged so easily. She didn’t know how to respond – but she wanted to learn, and that was progress, wasn’t it?
The inside of the lodge wasn’t at all what she expected after the scruffy exterior. A small hall led through to a surprisingly spacious open-plan room containing a smart grey sofa and armchair, a table for four, and a compact, modern kitchen. The walls were painted a pale shade of grey that made it seem bright but warm, and a log burner in a stone hearth was pumping heat into the room. Dickens was curled up in a basket close to the fire. He opened his eyes briefly to inspect the new arrivals and Mim could have sworn he took one look at Lia and closed them again.
Lia immediately threw herself onto the sofa and wrapped herself in a blanket that had been folded neatly on the seat.
‘Is there any chance of a cup of tea?’ she asked, turning to smile at Corin.
‘Will you literally die of thirst if you don’t have one?’ he said. Lia laughed. ‘You wouldn’t be so thirsty if you didn’t talk so much.’
Lia stuck her tongue out at him.
‘It’s so unfair being the youngest in the family,’ she said. ‘I’m the butt of everyone’s jokes. Do you have any brothers or sisters to endure, Mim?’
‘No. It’s just me.’
‘That sounds delightful.’ Lia grimaced. ‘Sorry. I’m totally putting my foot in it today, aren’t I? Corin, did you know that Mim was brought up in care?’
‘No.’ He looked up from making the tea. ‘But perhaps it’s not something she wants to talk about.’
‘It’s not a secret,’ Mim said. She wasn’t sure how to take his tone. Was he closing down the subject because he found it embarrassing? She met his gaze. ‘I’m not ashamed of it. It wasn’t my fault.’
Corin crossed the room and held out a mug to her.
‘We’re the ones who should be ashamed,’ he said, ‘for having so much privilege and doing so little with it.’
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and she couldn’t interpret the look he gave her. It certainly wasn’t embarrassment or pity but something she didn’t have a name for, something that loosened knots inside her that she hadn’t even known existed. Lia broke the moment.
‘Now do you see why Corin is the perfect person to help?’ she said. Corin sat down on the armchair, long legs stretched out towards the fire and crossed at the ankle.
‘Help with what?’ he asked. ‘Or should I be afraid to ask?’
‘Our amazing plan to offer free holidays in the caravans to people who can’t afford a break. What do you think?’
‘I think you’re becoming more like Dad by the day with your ideas and schemes,’ Corin replied. ‘He must be thrilled.’
‘She’s not asked Bill and Bea yet,’ Mim said. ‘They might object.’
‘They won’t,’ Lia said. ‘Besides, Corin is the son and heir. All this will be his one day, including the caravans, so they won’t object if he’s behind us.’
‘But what about the rest of you?’ Mim asked Lia. ‘It seems unfair if everything goes to Corin. But I should keep my nose out,’ she added quickly. She didn’t want to sound like Janet, butting in with her blunt opinions.
‘I agree with you,’ Corin said. ‘It is unfair. But none of the others want it. Now, why don’t you tell me what you have in mind for the caravans?’
Mim sat back and drank her tea while Lia did all the talking. Her attention drifted as she looked around the room and noticed a few things that she had missed when she first walked in. There was a small bookcase in one corner, filled with books with colourful spines; she couldn’t read all the titles, but a couple of them mentioned South America. A roughly carved wooden bowl sat on the bookcase, and a couple of photographs stood on the mantelpiece, one showing a group of four people in front of a jeep and the other an amazing sunset. Neither looked like Devon, from what she had seen of it so far. She stole a look at Corin. Was there more to him than the shallow, rich man she had mentally labelled him?
‘Mim? Mim darling? Are you falling asleep?’ Lia’s voice pulled her thoughts back into the room.
‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps I was drowsing after my swim this morning, and with the tea and the warm fire.’ She saw Corin open his mouth. ‘And no, I didn’t go swimming on my own before you ask. One of the women I swim with is Bobby’s sister.’
She had the satisfaction of seeing a look of interest flash over Lia’s face.
‘I know,’ Corin replied. ‘That wasn’t what I was going to say. You look as happy as Dickens when he settles in front of the fire. Are you finding the caravan cold? Does the fire not work?’
‘Are you saying I look like a short, hairy dog? No offence,’ Mim said to Dickens, as she noticed that he had sat up in his basket and was staring at her.
‘Only in the expression of contentment,’ Corin said. ‘But don’t dodge the question.’
‘I don’t know if the fire works,’ Mim admitted. ‘I haven’t tried it.’
‘You’ve been living in the caravan without heating?’ Lia pulled the blanket more tightly round her. ‘How have you not frozen to death, darling? Why would you do that?’
‘It’s still warmer than sleeping in the car.’ The surprise on Corin’s face stopped her. Perhaps he hadn’t heard that she had been homeless when Bea and Bill found her. She hurried on. ‘You know I told Bea that I’d only live in the caravan if she let me do some jobs to pay my way. She’s not given me anything to do, so I’m not running up expenses.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Corin said. ‘Next you’ll be telling us that you never switch a light on.’ Mim shrugged. She wasn’t daft enough to tell him that. The cheap torch she’d bought was surprisingly powerful. She only needed the lights on when she was cooking. Corin sighed. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so stubborn.’
‘Stubborn and looks like a dog?’ Mim smiled. ‘Steady on, I might get big-headed.’
Corin laughed and refrained from further scrutiny, just as Mim had hoped. She turned back to Lia.
‘Did I miss something?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you did. Corin thinks we should set up a charity and do it all officially.’
‘Does he?’ Mim pulled a face. ‘That sounds complicated. And expensive.’
‘It’s not too difficult,’ Corin said. ‘Olly can arrange the legal side. He’s done it before. You two need to come up with a name.’
‘I’ve already thought of the perfect name.’ Lia sat forward, grinning in excitement. ‘I came up with it last night. Mummy will never object when she hears it.’ She paused to build the moment. ‘As You Like It holidays. What do you think? Isn’t it the most perfect title, darlings?’
Chapter Eight
It had taken Mim a few weeks to get used to swimming in the sea, even with the benefit
of one of Ros’s old wetsuits, but now she couldn’t imagine going back to a swimming pool again. The sea was alive, sometimes helping her in the direction she wanted to go and sometimes making her fight against it. Her confidence and her strength were growing with every swim. No two days were ever the same and she relished the challenge of facing and conquering the unknown.
She also relished the growing friendship she shared with Karen and Heather. They had nothing obvious in common: they were different ages, came from different backgrounds, and had very different family circumstances. It was hard to say why it worked, but it did. For the first couple of times Mim had been reluctant to join them in the campervan, wary of interfering with an established relationship. Karen and Heather had swiftly put an end to any doubts and dragged her into their circle. Mim had never enjoyed female friendship before, never had any confidantes to talk to and with whom to share mutual support. It was one of the most precious discoveries of this new life in Devon.
She told Heather and Karen about the idea to use the caravans when they met up the following Wednesday.
‘Who will it be for?’ Karen asked. She was always the more practical of the group. ‘People on low incomes? You’d need to think how low. And how would you find them?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mim admitted. She’d been swept up in Lia’s enthusiasm for the idea, and they hadn’t worked out the practicalities yet. ‘It’s a good point. It seems arbitrary to set an income limit. Income doesn’t tell a whole story, does it?’
‘My second cousin went on a holiday with a similar charity a few years ago,’ Heather said. ‘I think it was in Wales. She was a single mother at the time – she’s married since then – and was struggling to manage because she was looking after a disabled father and her little boy with chronic asthma. A four-day break meant the world to her. She was nominated by a social worker.’