by Kate Field
‘Someone has to when Daddy retires, don’t they? It’s the family business and pays for us all,’ Lia said. ‘Corin’s the first-born son and heir, so why shouldn’t it be him?’
‘Because daughters and younger sons could run a factory too?’ Mim suggested.
‘Of course we could,’ Lia said, with a disarming smile. ‘But none of us want to.’
‘Does Corin want to? What about his fossil walks?’
‘That’s only a hobby – and an awfully dull one as you now know. I expect he’ll be glad to have something better to do.’
Would he? When Mim had joined Corin on the fossil hunt, she’d seen his passion for the subject, and his enthusiasm for sharing it with others. She’d thought that was genuine – a glimpse of the real man behind the riches. But what did she know? Perhaps the lure of making money was even more appealing. She pumped the weed killer over the drive, trying to ignore the twist of disappointment. There was no point giving it another thought. She would never understand the ways of rich people, and whatever Corin chose to do with his life was no concern of hers.
The Valentine dinner was in a league so far beyond Mim’s comprehension that she felt she’d strayed into a different world. The event was being held at a local golf club, where a large function room had been transformed into a romantic paradise. Clouds of shimmering fabric draped the ceilings and walls, lit by flickering lights spaced out along the sides of the room. There were fresh flowers everywhere, and a beautiful display of rosebuds formed the centrepiece of each table. Everything shone and glittered and sparkled, but not in a tacky way. Elegance and expense were evident in every aspect.
As for the guests, Mim could only watch in wide-eyed, open-mouthed wonder as they started to drift into the room. Most of the men were wearing black tie – the first time she’d ever seen it in real life, and she wasn’t immune to how attractive it was – and the ladies were dressed in exquisite gowns that shimmered as they moved and jewels that sparkled in the light. She wasn’t the jealous type, but as a woman about her own age floated past in a sheath of powder-blue silk, looking and smelling heavenly, she did feel a pang of wistfulness that she would never have the chance to dress up like that. And then she pushed it firmly away, picked up her tray of Champagne glasses and got on with her job.
None of the Howards were seated at the tables she served with dinner, but she noticed them as she made her way to and from the kitchen. They weren’t sitting together as a family, which surprised Mim. Bill and Bea were with couples of a similar age, and seemed to be leading the laughter and conversation at their table. Ros and Jonty were at a table nearby, and Lia and Olly had joined forces with a group of other young people. It took longer to spot Corin, partly because he was at the opposite side of the room to the rest of the family, and partly because he didn’t look like the Corin she knew. Despite the obvious dress code, she’d been looking for the scruffy man with sticking-out hair and a woolly jumper. Her gaze must have passed over him four or five times before she realised that the handsome man in crisp black-tie was the one she had been searching for. Mim glanced at his companions – well-groomed men and shiny women who looked like they’d never scrubbed a toilet in their life – and whisked invisibly back to the kitchen with her arms full of dirty plates.
Once the dinner was over, Mim moved to work a shift behind the bar, although there wasn’t much call for normal drinks as two mixologists were making cocktails at the other end of the bar. Their popularity left her plenty of time to people watch. A live band was playing and some couples were dancing – proper dancing, like she’d only seen on television before. It was mesmerising.
‘Mim darling, please pour me a glass of Champagne or I’ll literally die of thirst.’ Lia interrupted Mim’s observations. ‘You’re going to be so proud of me when I tell you what I’ve been doing tonight. I’ve been working incredibly hard.’
‘Have you?’ Mim poured the Champagne, unable to hide her smile. From what she’d seen, Lia had been eating, drinking, and flirting all night. Nice work if you could get it.
‘Don’t be naughty. You shouldn’t laugh at me. This has all been for a good cause.’ Lia waggled her glass at Mim. ‘I’ve been telling everyone about As You Like It holidays. We’ve had some incredible pledges of support, and not just money. I remembered what you said about the practical issues, and so I targeted Charlie Heatherington. His family owns a contract laundry business and he’s offered to service all the laundry from the caravans, without charging us at all. Isn’t he a darling?’
‘That’s brilliant news.’ A relief too. Mim had been worried that the day-to-day issues, such as who would clean the caravans between guests and launder the sheets, had been forgotten in the excitement of logos and social media sites. She had expected the job to fall to her and Mrs Dennis. ‘I hope you’ve not neglected your date though. Is he as hot as you expected?’
‘Urgh.’ Lia slumped against the bar. ‘Don’t mention him. Remind me never to accept a blind date again. I mean, have you seen him? I was promised a cute face and fantastic muscles, but frankly, I’ve seen a cuter face on Dickens. Dickens isn’t such a messy eater either. I don’t know what Bella was thinking of, trying to fix us up. I’m not happy with her at all.’
‘Why don’t you just enjoy being single for a while?’ Mim asked. ‘It suits me.’
‘Oh, I’m a much shallower creature than you, darling. I grow bored of my own company after five minutes.’
‘You could get yourself a Dickens.’
Lia laughed and wandered off to rejoin a lively group who were skirting the edge of the dancefloor.
It must have been an hour later when Mim was interrupted by a Howard again. She turned away from watching the mixologists juggle their shakers to find Corin leaning against the bar, his back to her as he observed the crowd in the room. His hair had begun to stick out again at the nape of his neck, and his bow tie hung loose so he seemed a curious hybrid version of Corin, neither the scruffy nor the smart man. It was still the familiar smile he gave her when he turned to face her.
‘Don’t you wish you were back in the Boat?’ he asked. ‘I’d give anything to be nursing a pint in front of the fire with Dickens.’
‘I’m getting paid more to be here.’ Mim smiled. ‘I can help with the pint, though. It’s not your usual, but there is real ale on pump.’
‘You’re a lifesaver.’ He watched while she poured his pint and passed it over. He drank deeply. ‘Do you mind having to work tonight? It’s not the most romantic way to spend the Valentine weekend.’
‘I’m not bothered about all that romantic stuff. Last year, Valentine’s Day consisted of three pints and half an hour rolling around in a single bed with a man who never called me again. The most exciting part of the night was when I fell out and sprained my wrist.’ Mim grinned. ‘I’m better off working.’
Corin stared at her and then laughed.
‘What do you make of all this?’ he asked, nodding towards the crowd.
‘I love it. It’s like something from a film.’
‘Really?’ Corin leaned his elbow on the bar. He was close enough that she could smell his aftershave, warm and spicy, as it filled her head. ‘I was sure you’d disapprove. The money spent on this event could have gone a long way to help those in need.’
‘But all the profit is going to a mental health charity, isn’t it? I don’t see why you shouldn’t have fun and raise money at the same time,’ Mim said. ‘Anyway, you didn’t have to be here. You could have gone to the Boat if you wanted.’
‘Ah, you still underestimate the influence of my family.’
‘They couldn’t force you to come.’
‘No. But the trouble with a family like mine is that they don’t need to force you to do anything. They simply love you so much that it becomes impossible to disappoint them.’
He sounded again like the man that Mim had first met under the trees on New Year’s Eve. But how could that be right? That man had sounded dissatisfied with his l
ife. She couldn’t understand why Corin should be dissatisfied with his. He had everything she had ever dreamed of growing up, on those dark nights hiding under her duvet when she had felt most alone.
‘That doesn’t sound like much trouble to me,’ she said. They looked at each other and though physically there was barely half a bar’s width between them, Mim felt like they may as well have been a million miles apart.
Corin downed his pint in one go and held up the empty glass.
‘No. I’m an ungrateful devil, aren’t I? I must be more Mim and be thankful to have a glass.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Are you involved in this caravan business, then?’ Janet asked Mim one Thursday morning when she arrived for her shift in the deli. ‘What’s it all about?’
‘Haven’t you heard? I didn’t think there was anyone left who hadn’t been given all the details by Lia. We’re renovating the caravans to provide holidays for people who need a break and can’t afford one.’
It was early March now, and in the couple of weeks since work had first started on the caravans, they had made great progress. Bobby had cut the grass all through the field on his ride-on mower, which had instantly transformed the site. The weeds had gone from the gravel road, and all the planters had been cleaned up and filled with small plants and bulbs. They had chosen the paint colours for the exterior of the caravans and were waiting for a break in the weather to make a start on that job. It was all going remarkably well, and Lia was proving a better project leader than anyone had expected.
‘I can’t afford to take a break. Do I qualify?’
Mim laughed, although she wasn’t sure if Janet was joking or not.
‘No, it’s not for people who already live here. It’s for those who don’t know where the next meal is coming from, and can’t even dream of taking a holiday. Or for people who have had a tough time through illness or caring for others. We can’t change their lives, but we can give them some time away from the worry of ordinary life.’
She took off her coat and hung it on the peg in the corridor at the back of the shop. She’d wondered about approaching Janet about the charity before but hadn’t found the right time. Now seemed the perfect moment, as she had already shown an interest. She pulled her apron over her head.
‘Would you be willing to help?’ she asked. ‘We’ll need to supply the basics – you know, toilet roll, washing-up liquid, cooking oil, pasta, and rice. All those sorts of things. The butcher has offered to provide sausages and bacon, and the Sandcatcher Café will bake a cake for each set of guests. Lots of local businesses are happy to help.’
‘More fool them.’ Janet pushed past Mim to turn the shop sign to ‘open’. ‘I’ve not worked hard for the last fifty years to give away my profits. It’s not going to help my holiday cottage business, having free caravans available, is it? My business is my pension. It’s a bit rich that those Howards expect us all to contribute to their latest scheme. They’re worth more than this entire village several times over and don’t need to worry about the future. No, charity begins at home in my book, and that means right here.’ She pointed upwards to her flat above the shop. ‘Don’t let me catch you promoting this idea on my time. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
‘I’d offer to boycott the place,’ Karen said, when Mim repeated Janet’s words at the next swimming meeting, ‘but I never go in. I can’t afford it. Three pounds for a loaf of bread. Who pays that sort of money?’
‘You’d be surprised.’ It had amazed Mim that the shop had a good trade, despite the prices. Many of the customers were old people from the village who didn’t have a car; there was no bus service and they had no choice but to buy their groceries from Janet. It frustrated Mim to see them being overcharged, and she slipped an extra potato or slice of cooked meat into their order as often as she thought she could get away with it. Now that March was rolling on and the weather was turning milder, more tourists had started to visit the shop too, apparently prepared to pay any price for something with a ‘local produce’ label.
‘I did warn you that some people would be against the scheme,’ Heather said, pulling off the baggy trousers she was wearing over her wetsuit. ‘Littlemead is relatively unchanged by the tourist trade, and they’d prefer it to stay that way. I’m surprised Janet is one of them, as her business relies on tourists. What a misery. I don’t know how you can stand to work for her. I’d probably have walked out within an hour.’
‘I can’t afford to have principles. I need the money. It’s not too bad now she leaves me alone most of the day, and I like working in the Boat.’
‘How long are you going to stay there?’ Heather asked. ‘Are you looking to move on? I thought your experience was in hotels.’
‘My experience is, but I don’t have any qualifications to back it up. Or a reference. I can’t see Janet giving me one any time soon. I’ve plummeted in her estimation again now because of my involvement with the charity.’ Mim laughed. ‘Although I might be flattering myself that I’d ever risen.’
‘Howie might provide a reference,’ Karen said. ‘He’s a good sort. Paula would too, now you’ve worked for her a couple of times. There’s no harm in looking for something else, is there? You don’t have to be stuck with Janet forever.’
Mim mulled it over as she swam. The sea was rough this morning, and it tossed her around so much that it took a huge effort to move forward at all. It was tempting to stop fighting and drift wherever the waves carried her. Was that what she was doing with her life? She’d done it for the last ten years with Gordon; after years of struggling, it had been a relief to be able to drift. He’d given her the stability she craved, and the security of knowing she could get out of bed in the morning and return to the same bed that night. No one else could understand how precious those things had been to her. He had changed her life. Perhaps it was time to stop drifting and change her own life now?
A dry spell of weather was forecast and Bobby decided that it was a good time to work on the exterior of the caravans. It wasn’t a straightforward job, as he explained when a group of volunteers met up on Monday morning. There would be a lot of preparation work first, including smoothing the surface of the caravan walls and applying masking tape around the edges and windows. They would have to be patient before they could move on to the fun part of painting and seeing the caravans transformed.
There were some changes to the group of volunteers this time. One of the previous couples was on holiday, but three new women had arrived in their place, thanks to Heather promoting the project with her book group. Karen had started a different shift pattern at work so couldn’t make it, and Lia was inexplicably absent too. The plan was to paint one caravan first, as a test run, and so everyone set to work on the caravan closest to Mim’s, dividing into teams to cover each side. It was harder graft than Mim had expected, as she buffed the exterior wall to remove cracked and peeling paint, old stickers and uneven ridges. How could the walls be so huge when the interiors were compact? After a couple of hours, her arms ached more than after the most gruelling swimming session.
She was perched on a ladder to reach the top of the wall and she paused to roll her shoulders back and ease some of the tension. She hadn’t realised that the others had stopped work. Most of the volunteers were sitting on rugs on the grass – the book-club ladies had come well prepared – and only Mim and Bobby were still hard at it.
‘I can’t believe they’ve all buggered off,’ Mim said to him. She laughed and pointed down to the rest of the group. ‘We’re mugs still being up here. It’s obviously tea-break time.’
Bobby checked his watch.
‘It’s well past that. I reckon it’s lunchtime.’ He knelt up on the roof of the caravan and looked across the field. ‘There’s a car coming this way from the house. Perhaps Mrs Dennis has made sandwiches again.’
‘Enough to fill a car? Sounds about right. I’m starving.’
Mim scrambled down the ladder, followed by Bobby, and they met the c
ar when it pulled to a stop at a strange angle half on, half off the gravel road. Lia jumped out of the driver’s seat, followed at a more sedate pace by Bea from the passenger side.
‘Happy birthday!’ Lia called, and before Mim could wonder at the coincidence of someone else also having a birthday that day, Lia dashed over and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Isn’t this the best surprise, darling? Mrs Dennis has made a special picnic and we even have birthday cake. I picked it up from the cake shop this morning and they’ve done an amazing job. You’ll love it.’
‘But who told you it was my birthday?’ Mim asked. She was sure she hadn’t mentioned it.
‘Not you, which is very naughty of you.’ Bea took Mim’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Happy birthday, dear Mim. I saw the date when I borrowed your driving licence to arrange the car insurance. I hope you weren’t planning to celebrate without us.’
‘I wasn’t planning to celebrate at all.’
‘Oh, come now.’ Bea smiled. ‘You’re only thirty-four. You needn’t despair at the passing years just yet.’
Mim didn’t feel despair. She loved birthdays, and Gordon had always made a fuss of her, forbidding her from work and sharing a bottle of wine while they watched an old film on the TV. This year was different; she was still a relative stranger here and she’d been resigned to having no one to celebrate with. But as she looked around at the smiling faces of Lia and Bea, Bobby and Heather, and realised why the picnic rugs and other paraphernalia had appeared today, she felt a glow of warmth at how wrong she had been. She had friends, perhaps for the first time in her life; real friends who liked her for who she was, despite everything that had happened in her past. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. It was the best gift she could have wished for.