by Kate Field
‘I like that idea,’ Mim said. ‘It would be good to have an objective assessment of who would benefit from a break. I wonder who could get involved. Teachers? Doctors?’
‘Health visitors?’ Heather suggested. She passed round a Tupperware box of cupcakes – another reason why Mim enjoyed these swimming sessions. The cake supply could keep her going until teatime.
‘You should open it up,’ Karen said. ‘Not just for low-income families. What about young carers? Or anyone with a caring role who needs a break? You should make one of the caravans accessible.’
Mim thought about the layout of the caravan field. There was already good access for vehicles, but each caravan was surrounded by a veranda that had only step access. Her caravan was fairly open-plan inside, but she hadn’t been in the others to see what they were like. She didn’t even know what condition they were in and how much work it would take to make them fit for use. She didn’t mind the cold and damp patches in hers but holidaymakers would deserve a higher standard. She sighed.
‘The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems,’ she said. ‘Lia’s enthusiasm hardly seems enough to carry us through.’
‘Is Lia behind this?’ Heather asked. She looked surprised. ‘I didn’t realise she was enthusiastic about anything other than fashion and holidays. She always seemed the weak link in the family. A bit flaky, if you know what I mean.’
‘Is that what Bobby says?’ Mim asked. Perhaps her suspicions were wrong, after all.
‘No, he never mentions her. That’s my point. He’s always had something good to say about the rest of the family. He was delighted when Corin came back. But he’s never said anything about her.’
Interesting. Perhaps Bobby didn’t mention Lia because he knew his sharp-eyed sister would see straight through him. Mim was about to ask where Corin had come back from when Karen interrupted.
‘It’s not impossible if you have the money. You’ll need some to get all this off the ground. Where’s that coming from?’
It was another good point and one Mim couldn’t answer. She’d asked Corin and Lia the same thing when they had first discussed the charity and they had told her not to worry about that. It was a pointless instruction, as worrying about money had been one of her chief occupations for so long that it was as automatic as breathing.
‘Don’t build your hopes up too much,’ Heather said, sending Mim a sympathetic look. ‘Bill seems a lovely man, from what I’ve seen, but he’s well-known for having ideas that seem the next big thing and then fade away. He once renovated a land train to attract tourists to Littlemead and it caused chaos on the roads. It probably wasn’t even legal. Then there was the caravan park. We all thought it would be great for the village at the time. But all the work was done by people from outside, not locals. It was abandoned after a few years.’
It was more or less the same story that Lia had told. Was the charity another idea that would produce initial enthusiasm and then be cast aside for something else? Mim hoped not. Corin had seemed genuine enough, but perhaps she should tread cautiously before thinking up too many ideas and getting her hopes up that the scheme might actually happen.
Bea flagged Mim down as she drove towards the caravans later on, by standing in the middle of the track and waving her arms as if she were delivering a semaphore message. Mim slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car.
‘Is something up?’ she asked. Bea laughed.
‘I do love your accent, my dear,’ she said. ‘No, nothing is “up”. Quite the opposite. Bill is down in his workshop, tinkering with his latest invention and doesn’t have time to take me to Exeter to pick up my new glasses. Are you busy, Mim dear? Would you be able to take me?’
‘Yes. We can go now if you want.’
‘Lovely. Give me thirty minutes to make myself presentable.’
Presentable? Bea already looked smarter than Mim did. But Mim agreed and spent the thirty minutes having a lukewarm shower to wash away the salt water on her skin and in her hair before returning promptly to the house and waiting outside for Bea.
‘Whyever didn’t you come inside?’ Bea asked. ‘You didn’t need to sit out here like a taxi driver.’ She peered into the car and brushed at the passenger seat before getting in. A burst of intense perfume filled the car, improving its fragrance considerably. Bea looked at Mim. ‘Did you not have time to dry your hair? You should have said. We could have set off later.’
‘It’s no problem. I don’t have a hairdryer.’
‘Why didn’t you ask? We probably have dozens of spare ones littering the house. Come in later and we’ll find you one. What would we do if you perished of pneumonia?’
‘Scatter my ashes in the sea, if it’s not too much trouble.’
Bea laughed and they set off towards the road that would lead to Exeter. Bea directed Mim at every turn.
‘Didn’t you fancy driving yourself, then?’ Mim asked. There was clearly no issue about Bea getting lost on her own. ‘Not that I mind taking you,’ she added quickly.
‘I don’t drive,’ Bea said. ‘I had a go once but I didn’t take to it. Besides, Bill loves driving so much that he would hate me to take a turn. I found that my services were better employed navigating, until the sat nav came along and made me redundant.’ She gave Mim the next couple of directions. ‘Of course, when Bill had his little health scare last year, I did wish I’d kept on with the driving but now we have Corin back with us so we can always call on him. He’s infinitely safer behind the wheel than Lia,’ she added, leaning close to Mim. ‘She took six attempts to pass her test.’
Mim had passed first time, but then she’d had the best and most patient teacher. Gordon had taught her when he’d realised she’d never had lessons, and he had taken her out whenever they’d had a spare half hour in the hotel. It was only one of the many gifts he’d given her.
Bea talked all the way to Exeter, where they finally parked in a multi-storey car park and climbed up a steep hill into the city centre. Bea collected her glasses – a vibrant black and yellow pair – and led Mim down a passageway which unexpectedly opened onto a grassed area, with the largest church Mim had ever seen at the centre of it. A cobbled road ran round the edge of the grass and was fringed with a variety of old buildings, some with black and white timbering, others made of stone, but all stunning in their own way.
‘You don’t get this in Burnley,’ Mim said, spinning round. Even on a dull winter’s day, the place basked in peace and beauty, as if the bustle of the city was far behind them. Mim loved it.
‘It’s very special, isn’t it?’ Bea replied, smiling at Mim. ‘I never tire of coming here, in all seasons, whether it’s quiet and cold like today or warm and sunny so the grass is packed with students and tourists. Bill and I were married over there in the cathedral.’
‘In there?’ Mim pointed. It looked like the sort of place where members of the Royal Family would marry, not ordinary people. Although, she supposed that the Howard family weren’t ordinary by her standards. ‘Wasn’t it terrifying?’
‘It was wonderful. I’d do the whole thing again in a heartbeat.’ She smiled at Mim. ‘You’ll understand when it’s your turn.’
‘Oh, I won’t be taking a turn,’ Mim said. ‘I don’t want to be half of someone else. I’m happy being all of me.’
‘I’ll look forward to seeing whether you stick to that when you meet the right man or woman. But do you know what I’m looking forward to now? Lunch in the café over there, facing the green. It’s my treat, before you argue, as a thank you for driving me here.’
Bea was clearly a regular in the café as she was greeted with smiles and given one of the best tables in the bay window.
‘Don’t even think about the price of anything,’ Bea said, holding up a warning finger to Mim when they were given the menus. ‘But bear in mind that they make delicious cakes and you’ll want to save room for one.’
Cakes twice in one day? Mim decided she deserved it after her swim this mornin
g. It always gave her an appetite and so she tucked into a huge bowl of soup, a plate of sandwiches, and a slice of chocolate fudge cake without even a pang of guilt.
‘This is one of the things I like about you, Mim,’ Bea said, as she poured them both another cup of tea. ‘You enjoy your food and don’t mind showing it.’
‘Is that a polite way of saying I’m greedy?’
Bea laughed.
‘You are very naughty, twisting my words. And on the subject of being naughty, there’s something we need to discuss.’
Mim froze, the last piece of chocolate fudge cake halfway to her mouth. What had she done wrong? She’d tried to live as frugally as she could in the caravan but she couldn’t avoid the cost of using the cooker and the water. Were the bills mounting up? Or was it something worse? Had she left a pair of coloured knickers in Bea’s washing machine and ruined some expensive clothes? She ate the piece of cake quickly and put down her spoon.
‘If I’ve done something wrong and you want me to move out, please just say it,’ she said. ‘You’ve already been kinder than you needed to be by letting me stay so long.’
‘Move out?’ Bea repeated. She shook her head. ‘Only if you’ve found somewhere you’d rather be. You misunderstand, Mim dear. I’m concerned, not cross. Corin told me that you’re still not using the heating in the caravan.’
Mim sighed. Not that again.
‘He had no business mentioning it,’ she said. ‘He’s a tell-tale.’
‘He’s also sensible. He reminded me that the fires in the caravans haven’t been checked for years and might not be safe. So actually I’m asking you not to use the fire until the gas engineer has been. I’ve booked him in for Friday. You’ll be at work, won’t you, so it won’t disturb you.’
Easy for Bea to say; she hadn’t lived in the sort of places that Mim had, where rooms and possessions were considered common property. Even here, it would disturb Mim to know that a stranger was in her space. She tried to protest.
‘You don’t need to do that for me. I’m happy without the fire. It’s not that cold down here compared to what I’m used to. It will be safe enough if I don’t use it.’
Bea dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
‘We’ll need to have them all serviced before we use them again, so it makes sense for yours to be done too.’
‘Before they’re used again?’ Mim forgot her own concerns and grinned as she realised what Bea meant. ‘Does that mean you’ve agreed to Lia’s idea about the holidays?’
‘Of course. How could you doubt it? It’s a wonderful idea. I’m only ashamed we didn’t think of it ourselves.’ Bea smiled. ‘We need to all come together and make plans for how it will work. What about Sunday? We can combine it with lunch.’
‘I’ll be in the shop.’ Mim couldn’t hide her disappointment. She may have just eaten a hearty lunch, but the thought of missing a Sunday roast was a huge blow. ‘You don’t need me there,’ she said reluctantly. ‘It doesn’t really have anything to do with me.’
‘Nonsense,’ Bea said. ‘It has everything to do with you. We’ll make it for Monday evening instead, after dinner. This is going to be a huge success. We won’t let it be anything else.’
Mim hoped so but she couldn’t help wondering if the same words had been spoken when the caravans were launched the first time – and that hadn’t been much of a success, had it? She was going to do everything she could to make it a success this time. Bea checked her watch and raised her hand for the bill.
‘I’ve delayed us too long. We’re going to be late.’
‘Late for what?’ Mim asked, pulling on her coat. She hadn’t realised they had another appointment that day.
‘I told Ros that you would babysit the children. She has a meeting this afternoon and has asked me to go with her. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Me? Babysit?’ Mim stared at Bea. ‘I don’t know anything about children. Don’t I need qualifications for that?’
‘It’s not a permanent job.’ Bea smiled as she tapped her payment card against the machine. ‘I thought you’d run a hotel? I think you can manage a couple of toddlers for an hour or two. It’s all perfectly simple.’
It took Mim less than an hour to conclude that babysitting wasn’t simple and it definitely wasn’t perfect. She’d encountered children in the hotel occasionally but never had any direct dealings with them and hadn’t been left in charge of any. Although she soon realised that it was a mistake to imagine she was in charge. Jeremy and Maisie seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy and, though only one and three years old, a strong determination that they should get their own way.
Mim was looking after them at Vennhallow. After an hour of covering the kitchen with paint and bricks faster than Mim could tidy up, she decided the only safe option was to take them outside and let them run around until they wore themselves out. She helped them put on wellies and anoraks and shooed them out into the garden.
Jeremy didn’t need any encouragement. As soon as he was out of the front door, he shot off across the lawn, with Maisie tottering behind on her chubby toddler legs. Mim chased after them and for the next twenty minutes it did seem simple, after all. She chased, they ran. They ran, they laughed. But then Maisie sank down onto the grass and started to suck her thumb and wouldn’t move another centimetre.
Mim looked down at her, wishing she’d had the sense to bring a pram. Maisie stared back and lifted her arms. What was that supposed to mean? Mim tried to lift her and set her back on her feet, but Maisie wriggled until she had wrapped her arms and legs round Mim and was clinging on like a monkey.
Mim lifted her higher on to her hip, and Maisie rested her head on her shoulder. She was heavier than Mim had expected, softer too, and she smelt of something sweet and fruity. Mim cuddled her closer, savouring the unfamiliar sensation.
‘Uncle Corin!’
Mim hadn’t realised they’d run so far; at its end, the Vennhallow garden backed onto the lawn that surrounded Corin’s gatehouse. Corin was walking round the house from his car to the front door, looking unusually smart in a formal shirt and trousers, and with a jacket and tie dangling over his arm. Jeremy ran through a gap in the hedge and straight at Corin, who picked him up and tucked him under his arm.
‘I’ve caught a monster in the garden,’ Corin said, tickling Jeremy who squealed with delight. Maisie noticed what was going on and slid down Mim so she could toddle after her brother. Corin soon had a giggling child under each arm, while his jacket lay in a heap on the floor. Mim followed the children into the garden.
‘Have you been landed with looking after these two terrors?’ Corin asked. ‘What did you do to deserve that?’
‘I don’t know. It must have been really bad, mustn’t it?’
Corin lowered the children to the ground. Jeremy tugged his hand.
‘Mim isn’t bad,’ he said, with the earnestness of his full three and a half years. ‘She’s fun. But she has a strange voice.’
‘It’s called an accent,’ Corin explained. He caught Mim’s eye and smiled. ‘It’s because she comes from a land far away in the north.’
‘The North Pole?’ Jeremy asked.
‘Not quite as far as that,’ Corin said, stifling a laugh. Jeremy still regarded Mim wide-eyed, but then another thought distracted him. He tugged Corin’s hand again.
‘Can we have some hot chocolate?’ he asked. ‘Please?’
‘Go on then, as you asked so politely.’
Corin unlocked the door and pushed it open. The children rushed in and Mim could hear them squealing over Dickens.
‘Poor Dickens,’ Corin said. ‘He won’t thank me for this invitation.’
‘Doesn’t he like children?’
‘I think he agrees with me, that our family is far too large and best tolerated infrequently and in small doses. You can’t go anywhere without running into a cousin or an aunt or a godparent. It’s like being surrounded by all Rabbit’s friends and relations.’
‘You have a rabbit?’ Mim was confused. He didn’t look like a rabbit man. Did he have a rabbit fleece like Janet? Perhaps that explained why he was such a favourite with her.
‘It’s a Winnie the Pooh reference,’ Corin explained. ‘Don’t you remember? It was always my favourite bedtime story.’
‘I didn’t have bedtime stories.’ It was a fact, not a plea for sympathy, but Mim caught the flash of compassion on Corin’s face. ‘Stop feeling sorry for me,’ she said. ‘It’s very annoying. The past is gone. I’m alive and I’m healthy. Everything’s fine, okay?’
She brushed past him into the house and found the children sitting next to Dickens’s basket, stroking the dog, while Dickens curled up with a resigned expression on his face. Corin followed her in.
‘Give me five minutes to change and then I’ll make a drink.’
He wasn’t gone that long, and Mim was glad when he came back wearing his usual jeans and scruffy jumper. He’d seemed different in his suit, less approachable and more like the businessmen who used to stay in the hotel, the ones who either paid her too much attention or failed to notice she existed.
‘Let Dickens have some peace,’ Corin said, and he lifted up the children one by one and deposited them on the sofa beside Mim. He threw the blanket over them. ‘Here, use this until the fire gets going.’
He lit the fire, switched on the lamps, and made hot chocolate, while Mim snuggled on the sofa with two children who seemed suddenly exhausted by the effort of running round the garden earlier. When Jeremy asked to watch television, Corin said he had a better idea. He plucked a book from the bookcase and started to read a story about a bear of little brain called Winnie the Pooh… Maisie fell asleep, leaning against Mim’s shoulder, and Mim couldn’t blame her. With the flickering fire and the cosy glow from the lamps, the warmth of the blanket, and the soothing rhythm of Corin’s voice, she was beginning to doze herself. Peace crept beneath her skin and filled her bones. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so content in her life.
