Page 77 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Cooee!’ Cheryl called out as she placed a fluffy mule on the tarp covering Atticus’s pitch, where the water-resistant canvas was covered with leaves and windblown sand. ‘Anyone home?’ she enquired, noting the debris scattered around. She wore her voluminous lime-green kaftan, which floated as she moved, and her vibrant orange hair, freshly curled, bounced on her deeply tanned shoulders.
Movement in the camper made Winnie rock as bodies stirred. Moments later, Ness jumped out, wagging her tail, delighted to see Cheryl.
‘Hello, lovely,’ Cheryl said and began to pat the dog. ‘Where’s the boss? Is he still asleep?’
‘No, I’m here,’ Atticus said, blinking against the light, following Ness into the sunshine.
‘That was some party last night.’ Cheryl grinned. ‘I’ve come to check that you are still alive. Ruby’s doing a fry-up if you fancy starting the day with a plateful of carbs.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ Atticus replied and rubbed at his head with his hands. ‘But first, I better clear this lot away,’ he said, sighing when he saw the vestiges of the pop-up event that had occurred on his pitch when he’d arrived back from Tabarca with Britta.
‘Is Britta still here?’ Cheryl asked. ‘Bring her too.’
‘Thank you, she is, but has to be at work by lunchtime.’
‘Then she’ll want a restoring breakfast before she clocks on.’ Cheryl smiled. ‘That was some punch Erik made. I wonder what he put in it?’
‘It packed a punch, that’s for sure.’ Atticus shook his head as he remembered the barrel of alcohol that Erik had turned up with, closely followed by most of the resident campers, who brought along musical instruments and chairs. The party that followed went on late into the night, and Atticus felt sure that dawn was rising when the last of the campers, in a noisy, multicultural conga line, staggered back to their mobile homes.
‘Well, Ruby is helping out at Steve’s bar today, and she can give Britta a lift to her cottage if it helps.’
‘That’s very kind, Cheryl.’ Atticus smiled. ‘Thank you.’
‘Sort yourselves out, then come over,’ Cheryl replied, gathering her kaftan as she headed off into the sunshine toward her chalet.
A little while later, having showeredand refreshed themselves, Britta and Atticus tidied the pitch. Britta dumped debris into a plastic sack while Atticus took a broom and swept away leaves and sand.
‘I’m ready for some breakfast,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember drinking a great deal, but whatever Erik gave us was very strong.’
‘Yes, I agree,’ Britta replied. As she knotted the sack of debris and placed it to one side, her phone began to ring. ‘Hello?’ Britta said, holding her mobile to her ear. ‘Oh, Mr Rodrigues, how are you?’
Atticus stopped brushing and leaned on his broom. He didn’t want to listen in on her conversation but was curious – he recognised the name. Mr Rodrigues was the owner of Casita del Mar.
‘I see,’ Britta said after a few moments. ‘Well, thank you for letting me know.’
Atticus noticed that Britta was flustered. Her hand gripped the phone tightly, and her face had paled.
‘Is everything alright?’ he asked.
‘Well, no, things aren’t alright at all.’ She gave a quick shake of her head.
‘What’s wrong, my love?’ Placing the broom to one side, he moved towards Britta and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Has Mr Rodrigues upset you?’
Britta sighed and scraped a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. ‘He plans to sell the cottage,’ she announced. ‘He says it will sell quickly because those cottages by the beach never come on the open market and are very desirable.’
‘Good heavens, that’s a shock. Come and sit down,’Atticus said and reached for a chair. ‘But he must have given you plenty of notice, surely?’
‘I have one month.’ Britta sat down with a heavy sigh.
‘Oh, I see.’
Turning her body, Britta shrugged. ‘It’s okay, I… I’ll find somewhere else,’ she stuttered.
But Atticus could see that her shoulders were tense, and her knuckles were white as she gripped her fingers.
‘Yes, of course.’ Atticus took hold of her hands. ‘Try not to worry. You know I’ll help you.’
Britta looked up. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. ‘I love that little c…cottage,’ she said as her cheeks became wet. ‘It’s my s…safe place.’
