Finding Home Read online

  Finding Home

  Kate Field

  One More Chapter

  a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  * * *

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

  * * *

  Copyright © Kate Field 2021

  * * *

  Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  Cover photographs © David Forster/Alamy Stock Photo (cottage), Westend61/Getty Images (foreground flowers), Shutterstock.com (all other images)

  * * *

  Kate Field asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  * * *

  A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

  * * *

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  * * *

  Source ISBN: 9780008439446

  Ebook Edition © April 2021 ISBN: 9780008439439

  Version: 2021-03-02

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading…

  You will also love…

  About the Author

  Also by Kate Field

  One More Chapter...

  About the Publisher

  To Suzannah Shaw, with thanks for twenty-five years of friendship

  Chapter One

  Mim slammed on the brakes as she rounded the bend and spotted a car already parked in her favourite layby. How annoying was that? She’d had this place to herself for the last two nights; it was her patch. The other car was in the best position too, so she had to squeeze her old Volvo estate into the gap next to the overflowing rubbish bin. Oh well – at least it was too cold to open the window. She would just have to close her eyes and imagine she was tucked up for the night in The Ritz…

  She glanced in the rear-view mirror. In the fading light, she thought she could make out two figures in the front seats of the other car. It was one of those massive 4x4s – the sort driven by the really rich, or the pretending-to-be-rich. Surely they’d be moving on soon? She could do with going to the loo before she hunkered down to sleep but she didn’t fancy nipping behind the trees with an audience.

  She sat up straighter as the driver’s door opened. A man got out – early sixties, she guessed, but still with a thatch of dark hair and a thick black moustache. He approached her car and she locked the door just in time before he knocked on her window.

  ‘Hello.’ His voice boomed through the glass, and he accompanied the word with a huge grin and an exaggerated wave. ‘Are you free? Can you spare a moment to help some travellers in distress?’

  Mim wound down the window so there was a gap of about five centimetres at the top – too small for him to get an arm through. He looked harmless enough, but she knew better than to be taken in by that. A blast of icy, late-December air slipped through the window and into the car, and she shivered, hoping she wasn’t going to regret this small act of engagement.

  ‘Don’t open it too far,’ the man said, bending down to peer at her through the gap. ‘Are you on your own, my dear? You can’t be too careful. You don’t know who the dickens I am, do you? I hope my girls would be just as cautious. Let me fetch Bea. She’ll put your mind at rest. Won’t be a tick.’

  He took a few steps away from the door, and gestured towards his own car, beckoning to someone else. The passenger door opened and a woman climbed out – around the same age as him, tall and stoutly built.

  ‘Well? Have you found help?’ she called, her voice carrying across the layby as she strode over. ‘Please tell me it’s a Christmas miracle and you’ve found a proper mechanic in that car.’

  The woman’s face loomed at Mim’s window, her mouth stretched into a generous smile. Her lips were painted with bold, red lipstick that matched her chunky glasses.

  ‘No need to worry,’ she said. ‘We don’t bite. I suppose Bill gooned and terrified you, didn’t he? Silly old sod. If he spent less time tinkering about, and more time on important things like … I don’t know, arranging breakdown cover, as a wholly random example, we wouldn’t be in the pickle we’re in now. Do tell me that by some lucky chance you know how to fix cars and we’ll be in your debt forever.’

  Mim wound the window closed and got out of the car. She’d never met anyone who spoke the way this woman did – with the sort of cut-glass accent she’d only heard on the telly, not the Lancashire twang she’d grown up with. She wasn’t terrified in the least. It was the most interesting thing that had happened in days. What on earth was someone like this doing on the outskirts of Burnley?

  ‘I don’t know anything about cars,’ Mim admitted, as she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. She hoped the mild weather of the last two weeks wasn’t about to turn; she was already having to wear several layers of clothes to survive nights in the car. ‘Won’t it start?’

  ‘It looks like the electrics have gone,’ Bill said. ‘Would you believe it? Three weeks after the complimentary breakdown cover from the dealership ran out. Rotten timing, eh?’

  He laughed and Bea rolled her eyes at him.

  ‘Rotten organisation on your part. If only I’d chosen a man who was good with his head rather than his hands.’ Bea turned to Mim. ‘He’s an inventor,’ she explained, flashing a smile. ‘In case you were getting the wrong idea.’

  Mim could only stare in fascination as Bea leaned against Bill for a moment and they shared a private smile. Even in the lowering light of a late-December night, the bond of affection between them shone brightly and their warmth seemed to spill over and touch Mim. She didn’t want to lose it yet.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ she asked. ‘There must be some local breakdown companies. Or do you have family who could pick you up?’

  ‘Well, there’s the rub,’ Bill said, running his finger along his moustache. ‘We’re not from round here. We live in Devon and we need to be back there tonight, one way or another.’

  ‘It’s essential that we get back. My niece is getting married tomorrow and Bill is giving her away. We can’t let the family down,’ Bea said. Her voice cracked. ‘We’ve left Lia in charge at Vennhallow. All the relatives are descending and I dread to think what chaos she’s creating, even with Corin to supervise. It’s imperative that we make it home. We’ll have to ring Corin,’ she said to Bill, rummaging in her bag for her phone. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

/>   She dialled and for a minute Mim heard only one half of the conversation.

  ‘We’re still in the north, darling… No, he’s fine, but the car has broken down… I know, but we diverted to collect the engine this morning and you know what he’s like when he meets a fellow enthusiast… He couldn’t resist looking at the whole railway… I’ll put you on loud speaker…’

  ‘… a nightmare, like the circus has moved in.’ The reception was crackly, but the words were clear enough as they were flung out of the phone. The voice was male, posh, and sounded grumpy to Mim. ‘How much longer will you be?’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Bill said, leaning towards the phone. ‘We’ve no way of getting back.’

  ‘Haven’t you tried a breakdown service?’ Corin asked.

  ‘No one will take us down to Devon, not when it’s New Year’s Eve tomorrow and there’s a forecast of snow up here,’ Bill replied. ‘The best they would do was drive us to the railway station.’

  ‘That will do, won’t it? There must be trains down to Exeter.’

  ‘The west coast line is closed for maintenance until January,’ Bea said. She sagged against Mim’s car, looking older and suddenly vulnerable. Mim felt a flash of annoyance with this Corin person. Would it kill him to show more sympathy? ‘I can’t see how we can make it back for tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll have to come and pick you up.’ It sounded like a grudging offer. ‘Can you send me details of where you are?’

  ‘You can’t do that, son. It will be five hours each way,’ Bill said. ‘You’ll be shattered.’

  ‘I’ll have ten hours of peace. Ten hours without being asked when it will be my turn. Shattered is a small price to pay.’

  Mim had heard enough. The solution was obvious, wasn’t it?

  ‘I’ll drive you home,’ she said.

  Why not? It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do; it was a hopeless time to be looking for a new job and she could make this journey and be back ready to start the job search again in January. Besides, it would be an adventure. She’d never been to Devon; it was one of those mythical places down south she sometimes saw on the telly and struggled to believe was on the same island where she lived. Perhaps she’d even see the sea at last. And even if she didn’t, she wanted to help. She felt drawn to these people, despite knowing nothing about them. Bea’s worry about letting her family down had touched a nerve with Mim; it wasn’t going to happen if she could do anything to prevent it. She might not have much in this world, but it cost nothing to be kind – something the posh man on the phone would do well to remember. And look at Bea now – she was rejuvenated. It had been an impulsive offer, but Mim didn’t regret it one bit.

  She opened the boot to try to make room for two suitcases. The boot was a mess, stuffed with bin bags and supermarket bags-for-life that were, quite literally, holding Mim’s entire life. Her swimming costume and towel were draped over the top of everything else, in the vague hope that they might dry out before she used them again tomorrow. Well, she didn’t need to worry about that now. It was unlikely she’d make it back to Burnley in time for the free swim at the leisure centre tomorrow morning. She swept everything over to one side of the boot, just as Bill and Bea wheeled over two expensive looking cases.

  ‘Gracious, have you been having a clear out?’ Bea asked, as Bill hoisted the first suitcase into the boot. He dislodged a towel that Mim had used to strategically conceal the bag containing her toiletries. Mim tugged it back in place quickly, hoping that Bea hadn’t seen the toothbrush and deodorant poking out of the top. Perhaps she hadn’t reacted quickly enough. When she glanced at Bea, there was a strange expression on her face – part surprise, part curiosity.

  ‘We simply can’t start this road trip without proper introductions,’ Bea said. She held out her hand to Mim. ‘Beatrice Howard. After the Shakespearean heroine, of course. Call me Bea. And this is Bill. A William! Isn’t that perfect?’

  Mim shook the hand that Bea offered.

  ‘Miranda Brown,’ she said, and immediately wondered why she had said that. No one had called her by her full name for years. Perhaps it was Bea’s accent; at least she hadn’t done anything really stupid like curtsey. ‘Usually Mim,’ she added, but her words were lost as Bea crushed her in a hug.

  ‘Miranda!’ Bea exclaimed, calling over Mim’s shoulder to Bill. ‘Did you hear that? She’s one of us!’

  Mim stood awkwardly while Bea squeezed her. She hadn’t been brought up with hugs and didn’t know what to do with them. It felt unfamiliar and strangely comforting. But what was all that about being one of them? From what she’d seen and heard of Bill and Bea so far, her life couldn’t be more opposite to theirs.

  ‘One of you?’ she asked, as she stepped back from Bea’s embrace. No point in getting too comfortable there. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The name. Miranda. It’s from Shakespeare, isn’t it?’ Bea said. ‘That’s how we chose the names for all our brood. We have Corin, the son and heir, then Rosalind, known as Ros, then Orlando – or Olly – is number three, and Ophelia – Lia – is number four. So you see, my dear, our meeting was meant to be.’

  ‘Really? In that case, I wish it could have happened on a warm beach somewhere.’ Mim shivered as a gust of wind blew across the layby. The weather was turning and there was hardly any light left. She slammed the boot shut. ‘Are we ready?’

  ‘Hold fire,’ Bill said, as he dashed back towards his car. ‘I can’t go without my Hornby Dublo. It’s a St Paddy!’ he called to Mim in a baffling aside.

  ‘It’s a model engine,’ Bea explained, smiling affectionately after Bill. ‘We’ve been in Carlisle on an emergency mission to visit Bill’s brother; he fell on Christmas Day and ended up in hospital. We should have been safely home yesterday, but Bill was determined to detour for this engine while we were in the north. Apparently it’s a rare piece. Don’t you think a man of his advanced years should have grown out of playing with a train set?’ Bea laughed, a peal of laughter that seemed to brighten the gloom like a firework.

  At last they were all in the car.

  ‘Shall I set the sat nav?’ Bill asked. He peered at the dashboard. ‘Ah. This motor’s too old, isn’t it? Do you have a portable one?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Use your phone, do you? It’s the answer to everything for you young people, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not me,’ Mim said. ‘I don’t have a phone at the moment.’

  ‘No mobile phone?’ Bea peered forward from between the seats. ‘Oh my, dear, have you lost it? What a nuisance.’

  ‘Sort of.’ She hesitated, but couldn’t lie. ‘It came with a job that I don’t have anymore.’ She turned on the engine, conscious that both Bea and Bill were staring at her in the gloom, as if waiting for her to say more. She pulled onto the road.

  ‘And we’re off!’ Bill said. ‘This is an adventure, isn’t it?’

  This was an adventure for Mim. She’d never travelled further than the Lake District before, on a school trip where everyone else had paired off, leaving her to sit with the teacher. Now, as she drove down the motorway in the dark, passing signs for places she’d heard of but never been to, it felt as if with each mile she was figuratively as well as literally leaving the past behind. Chester, Stafford, Stoke-on-Trent… Had anyone ever been so excited to spot signs for Birmingham before?

  Bill and Bea were like a comedy double act and hardly stopped talking and laughing for the entire journey. Mim loved hearing them, and their stories made her laugh even though she had no idea who or what they were talking about. Bea occasionally slipped in a sneaky question and Mim admitted that she’d worked in a hotel for the last ten years, but it was easy to distract her again before she could ask more. People judged, didn’t they? She was enjoying being herself and not her past for once.

  It felt like they had travelled across a continent, never mind a country, and Mim was desperately trying not to fall asleep at the wheel when Bill eventually directed her off the motorway. It was
too dark to see any of her surroundings and the road signs now pointed to places Mim had never heard of: Exmouth, Budleigh Salterton, Sidmouth. She hunched forward, gripping the wheel as Bill directed her onto roads that seemed to become twistier and narrower with each turn. She finally turned left onto what seemed no better than a farm track; in the full beam of the headlights, she could see tufts of grass sprouting through the centre of the road ahead and bare hedge branches loomed alarmingly close on either side.

  ‘What do I do if a car comes the other way?’ she murmured, half to herself. There were no signs of any passing places. Bea only laughed in response.

  ‘It’s highly unlikely at this time of night. Everyone will be on the Champagne,’ she said. ‘Be careful here; there’s a sharp turn to the right and then you can pull in on the left. There, do you see, behind those other cars.’ She tapped Bill on the shoulder. ‘It looks like everyone has arrived. We must have a full house!’

  A security light came on as Mim parked behind eight or nine other vehicles that were lined up in front of a huge barn with three garage doors built into the wall. A tall conifer hedge surrounded it, but there was no sign of a house – and surely, if all these cars belonged to visitors, it would be bulging at the seams rather than merely full? But it was none of her business, Mim reflected with a tinge of regret as she hopped out of the car and opened the boot so that Bill could retrieve the suitcases. Her part in this adventure was over.