Finding Home, Kate Field [big screen ebook reader .TXT] 📗

‘Yes, you don’t need to worry about that, my dear. Bill will take you to the garage. It’s hard to find your way down the single-track lanes if you’re not familiar with them. It may be open tomorrow, or perhaps the day after. It’s always tricky to know at New Year.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Mim repeated. ‘But I was planning to go back today.’

‘Were you?’ Bea raised the sunglasses off her face and peered at Mim, before wincing and letting them fall back to the bridge of her nose. She patted the sofa seat beside her. ‘Stop hovering by the door. Come and sit down and let’s have a chat.’

That sounded ominous, but nonetheless Mim crossed the caravan and sat down next to Bea.

‘I’m not being judgemental, my dear,’ Bea said, ‘but there’s clearly more going on than you’re telling us. Have you run away from home? From a husband or partner or whoever?’

‘No. I don’t have any sort of partner. I haven’t run away.’

‘I see. Only, it looked as if all your worldly goods were stashed in that car of yours. I’m sure I saw your toothbrush in one of those bags you tried to cover up. And then I found a blanket on the back seat, and it may sound silly, but I had the absurd notion that you might actually be sleeping in your car. Tell me that’s a ridiculous idea, Mim. I can’t bear to think of it.’

‘It’s not ridiculous,’ Mim said. She hadn’t wanted to volunteer the information but she wouldn’t lie about it now. ‘It’s true. It’s only been a couple of weeks, though. Not long. And it won’t be for much longer. Something will come up soon. I’m lucky, really, having the car. Many people are much worse off.’

Bea leaned forward and grabbed Mim’s hands.

‘How can this be?’ she asked. ‘How did you find yourself in such dire straits?’

‘Quite easily.’ It had been frighteningly easy. Mim had never realised what a fragile divide lay between being employed and being homeless. ‘I told you I worked in a hotel. I’d been there for ten years and I lived there too. Four months ago, Gordon, the owner, died.’ Mim took a deep breath to calm the sob that was lurking. She still missed him dearly. ‘His daughter inherited the hotel and left me to carry on running it while the probate went through and she looked for a buyer. She told me the week before Christmas that she’d sold it to a property developer to turn into flats and that the business was closing with immediate effect. I lost my home and my job.’

She hadn’t been the only one affected. There had been Beryl, who had taken on a cleaning job at the hotel when her husband had been made redundant six years earlier. Then there was Robbie, who Gordon had taken on as chef despite his spell in prison, and who had been about to celebrate his first Christmas with a new baby. There had been the local businesses who supplied goods and services to the hotel, from laundry to fresh eggs, the guests who had rooms booked, and the locals who had arranged to come to the hotel to enjoy Christmas lunch. Mim had been given one day to cancel all the contracts, break the bad news to staff and guests, and close down the business. There had been no time to think of her own plans. When all the work was done, she had grabbed her bags and driven off, not looking back. It wasn’t the first time she had been moved on at short notice. She would survive it, just like she had done before.

‘Surely you must have had family or friends who could put you up for a while?’ Bea said.

‘No.’ Mim shrugged. She’d seen the extent of Bea’s family and friends last night. Their worlds were so far apart that it would be hard for Bea to understand. ‘No family and no friends. I’m on my own.’

‘No you’re not. You have us.’ Bea squeezed Mim’s hands. ‘If you have no home, no job, and no one waiting for you in Lancashire, why are you going back? You might as well stay here.’

Mim stretched her leg and turned on the tap with her toe, letting more hot water gush into the enormous roll-top bath in Bea’s en suite bathroom. It was utter bliss. The bathroom itself was huge, bigger than the attic bedroom where Mim had lived at the hotel, and it was beautifully decorated with glossy white tiles and hints of sea green to reflect the coastal location. Underfloor heating made the room toasty warm, and a fluffy bath sheet hung on the towel rail, waiting for Mim to step out of the bath. If she ever did. She could live in this room forever.

It was a couple of hours since Bea had visited her in the caravan, wrung her story out of her, and suggested she should stay in Devon. As it seemed that she was stuck here at least until tomorrow, when Bill would pay for her petrol, Mim had agreed to think about it. From there, Bea had made short work of persuading her to the house for lunch, and inviting her to use her bathroom when Mim had admitted that the hot water in the caravan was tepid at best.

She lay back and let the water cover up to her chin, soothing the aches in her muscles and joints that were a lingering legacy from her cramped sleeping arrangements in the car. Bea’s question had touched a nerve. Why was she going back to Lancashire? She couldn’t be homesick for somewhere when she’d never had a proper home. All that was left for her there were sour memories, and the three months she had left on the leisure-centre pass that Gordon had bought for her birthday so she could indulge her love of swimming; it had been a godsend over the last few weeks, providing access