Page 54 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Yes, Daddy!’ Declan yelled, gripping his father’s leg. ‘You go next.’
‘Not now,’ Conor said. He turned to Witchery Wanda and told her to organise another game.
As Conor led Ruari toward a corner by the garden windows, a row soon ensued. Mary, perched behind a bookcase and unseen by the two men, heard Conor ask why Ruari was at the children’s party. Ruari, angry at being insulted, retaliated by asking Conor why he spent so much time at Creek House when he had a beautiful wife at home.
Creek House.
Like a Monster Freeze dance participant, Mary froze like a statue. It took all her strength not to grab the cauldron of green punch and fling it at Conor.
Now, as she stared through the windows, where forceful gusts bent branches and trees swayed, she knew for sure that Conor had been spending time at Lucinda Darby’s home.
Time when he said he’d been working.
She thought of their night at the Salty Dog Inn and the look of guilt on Conor’s face as heended a call. Mary suddenly realised that he’d been speaking to Lucinda and not the babysitter. There hadn’t been an opportunity for discussion, and with too much to drink, Conor had fallen asleep as soon as they’d gotten home. In the days that followed, the kids were as demanding as ever, and Mary had felt too weary to pursue her misgivings.
Now, Witchery Wanda’s departing words came back like a slap in the face. She’d reached for payment from Mary’s hand, then leaned in and sang in her ear.
‘Beware, for betrayal lurks in shadows deep,
where hearts now wander,
secrets they shall keep.’
Mary had wanted to tell Wanda to mind her own business and cut the witching out. But as she stood in her kitchen, still staring out at the garden, she replayed the night before, and the old woman’s words rang true. Conor, furious about the game of Twister where she’d humiliated herself, had blamed Mary for the paint incident and for not being more attentive. He’d retreated to the playroom with the kids and told her he’d put them to bed. Unaware that she’d overheard his conversation with Ruari, he had suggested that Mary unwind in a bath. Taking a large glass of Chardonnay, Mary felt too exhausted and upset to discuss the state of her marriage with Conor in front of the kids. After a soak, she went to bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
Now, Mary looked at the wild beauty outside and sighed. She thought of calling Una, but her friend wasunlikely to be out of bed at this time on a Sunday morning.
Mary wished the energy of the wind could revitalise her. Indeed, she should be racing up the stairs, demanding to know what her husband had been up to and sorting out their flawed life. But at that moment, she felt weary. Instead of being angry at Conor and his probable lies, her emotions were filled with sadness. Sadness for the closeness she’d once shared with her husband and the happy times they appeared to have lost. Sadness, too, for the way Ruari looked at her, with lust in his eyes, when it should have been Conor staring that way. Mary longed for loving arms to wrap around her and tell her everything was alright.
She slumped onto a chair and wrapped a blanket around her legs. As her family slept on, Mary reached for her phone. There was one person she might be able to talk to, and she had a sudden urge to speak to her dad. It was an hour ahead in Spain, and with luck, he would be up. But before she found his number, Mary turned to his Instagram page.
The Travelling Grandad was having the time of his life! New images showed Atticus driving around in a Fiat 500 convertible. Mary thought it suited him, unlike Mungo’s comments about the Noddy car.
Mary gasped when she saw photos of Atticus on a bike, towing Ness in a trailer. ‘How bloody brilliant!’ She grinned. Atticus had caught the sun and wore shorts and a white T-shirt. Gone were his comfortable hide boots, and now, tanned toes peeped out of a pair ofleather sandals.
Mary realised what a handsome man she had as a father. With a full head of hair, a toned body, and well-muscled limbs, years of farming had kept him in good shape. Clearly, the climate in Spain was suiting him.
‘And he’s out partying…’ she breathed, shaking her head.
Atticus was at a barbecue, cooking steak and handing out fat sausages from a long-handled fork. In the many images, he was laughing and smiling with guests at the party, which appeared to be held in and around a palatial-style motor home.
Mary sat up. ‘Oh, Dad, I am so happy for you,’ she smiled.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded on the landing, and Mary pushed her phone to one side. The kids were up, and Conor, despite the wind and rain, would soon be off to his Sunday morning workout. There wasn’t time to speak to Atticus, and as she stared at the gloomy weather, she knew she could hardly go pouring out her troubles to him. It would be so unfair when her dad was having such a good time.
‘Mammy! Finn’s got Teddy, and he’s throwing him downstairs!’ Declan screamed.
Mary took a deep breath and sighed. ‘Coming,’ she called out.
As she passed the front door, Roisin’s Shamrock Shine pulled up, and in seconds, Roisin let herself in. ‘I hear it was quite a party,’ she commented as she marched past Mary, who was picking up Teddy from the bottom of the stairs.
Mary turned to watch Roisin, bucket and mop in hand, stomp into the kitchen.
‘Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!’ Roisin exclaimed as she stared at the red colour on the wall. ‘It’s industrial cleaning you’ll be wanting today.’
‘I’m sorry about the paint, Roisin, but I know you’ll do your best,’ Mary said, and, thinking of the two-faced cow Lucinda, wondered mischievously if Roisin’s many talents might include contract killing.
‘Just as long as you know,’ Roisin sighed as she reached for a bottle of heavy-duty cleaner and tugged thick rubber gloves onto her hands. ‘It’s triple-time on a Sunday!’
