Page 9 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘I’m sure he’ll enjoy your company,’ Mungo smiled. ‘You’ll find him up on the fells.’ Reaching out, he grabbed Helen’s coffee and drained it. Dodging her playful slap, he winked. ‘Enjoy the fair,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘See you all later.’
Seconds later, Mungo was out of the door.
Up on the fells, the morning sunshine softened the craggy peaks of the rugged landscape, creating ever-changing patterns on the sloping hills. Atticus sat in his usual spot on the drystone wall and, as he did every morning, felt the magical spell of Cumbria embrace him. How he longed for the days when, together with Clara, he’d led a simple, unhurried life of caring for their sheep, raising their children, and enjoying the gentle goings-on in the village.
Atticus sighed, feeling like a stranger on his own land.
Reaching down, he stroked Ness’s soft, silky fur. The dog nudged his hand and began to thump her tail. Her imploring eyes told him that it was time to move on. Morning walks were not meant to be spent sitting still while rabbits and hares darted among rocks and heather, teasing the Collie, who longed to be in hot pursuit.
Returning his gaze to the farmhouse, Atticus wasn’t surprised to see Mary heading his way with Declan hanging off her hand, and Finn bouncing a ball alongside.
His peaceful morning had ended.
‘Come on,’ he said, cuffing the dog. As he stirred Ness into motion, Atticus straightened the brim of his hat, thenstood upright, leaning on his crook. ‘It’s time to face the music.’
Mary had been unable to find her father in his cottage but knew he must be up and about. An empty cup with the dregs of tea sat beside a crumb-filled plate, but elsewhere, the place was tidy.At least he’s looking after himself, she thought, as she wandered over to the pine dresser and fondly stroked Clara’s plates, so lovingly collected over the years.
Her fingers touched an old wooden needle box, and she traced the edges of the lid. ‘Dear Lord, he’s still got some of Mum’s ashes,’ Mary whispered as she peered inside.
It had been years since they’d scattered most of her mother’s remains over the fells, a gentle wind carrying Clara away into the endless sky, just as her mother had wanted. But Atticus had kept a little back. Mary swallowed hard and glanced at her mother’s empty chair by the stove. ‘I understand, Dad,’ she murmured. ‘I really do.’
In the yard, Mary walked past a pen where half a dozen Herdwick sheep were being petted by a group of children.No wonder Dad felt so sad, she thought, remembering the vast flock that had been her father’s pride and joy. But after her mother’s death, Atticus’s grief, which appeared to have no end, had led to his lethargy, and it never seemed to change.
But could Mary change her father?There wasonly one way to find out.
Wandering along the trodden earth that formed a pathway from the farm to the fells, Mary felt Declan pulling on her hand. His weight was heavy, and with the exertion of the climb, she wished she’d put more effort into her gym sessions. Her occasional visits to Kindale Golf and Wellness Retreat hardly warranted the expensive membership. As Mary felt a shortness of breath, she determined that she would indulge in her fitness when she got home. Sitting in the restaurant with the Ladies’ Lunch Club did nothing to improve her stamina or waistline. Unlike Conor, who was as fit as a fiddle and insisted on spending time there most days, assuring Mary that most of his deals were done on the golf course and in the bar, and justified the expense.
‘Where’s Grandad?’ Declan asked, gripping his teddy.
‘Probably hiding beside the long wall.’ Mary pointed as she steadied her youngest son.
‘Will he play football with me?’ Finn kicked the ball as they reached the summit.
‘You can ask him.’
‘How much further?’ Declan began to whine.
‘We’re nearly there. Look, here’s Ness.’
Mary saw the Collie race along the grass and, with a natural herding instinct, manoeuvre around Finn to dribble the ball between her paws and intercept his pass.
Declan thrust his teddy into Mary’s arms and ran ahead to join in.
As the game got underway, Mary turned to look for Atticus and found him, as she expected, by the long wall. ‘There you are,’ Mary called out. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’
‘Aye, well, you’ve found me.’ Atticus smiled as Mary kissed his cheek.
‘I need to sit down. The climb up here has me gasping.’
‘Finn has some fancy footwork,’ Atticus commented as he watched his grandson circle the ball around Ness with lightning speed.
‘He’s on the school team and plays for Kindale in the Under Twelves.’
‘It was rugby in my day.’
‘Ours too.’ Mary looked thoughtful. ‘I remember Mungo being a great prop-forward when he played for the school.’
‘He was built for it,’ Atticus nodded.
