Page 27 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Aye, er… right, and I’ll also have dos of those, por favor.’ He held up two fingers, then reached for a handful of euros as she added the chicken-filled pastries he’d pointed at to the carrier.
‘Empanadas,’ the woman said, ‘very good, you enjoy.’
‘I’m sure I will,’ Atticus said, touching his hat. ‘Buen día,’ he grinned.
‘Gracias. Adiós, handsome cowboy,’ she laughed.
Atticus was surprised by the comment and decided that the Spanish were a friendly bunch and perhaps the lady sensed repeat business.
Back at the camper, he sat with Ness and munched on the empanadas. ‘Thesearegood,’ he said as he bit into the delicious, savoury pastry, while Ness licked up flaky crumbs from the floor. After tidying up the debris, he stretched his legs in the sunshine and made ready to set off again. A motorhome, with several bikes strapped to the rear, drove past, and the driver tooted his horn.
‘Très bien, camper!’ a French voice called out. ‘Like a big, fat canary!’
Atticus gave a curt nod as he cranked Winnie’s engine to life, and they got back on the highway. He wasn’t sure he appreciated his precious vehicle being compared to a big,fat canary. Still, he soon forgot the comment as the open road before him offered stunning views of vast farmlands, while Winnie chugged along.
Atticus passed mile after mile of vineyards and olive groves, occasionally pulling over to photograph points of interest. He was grateful that Jake had insisted on the latest version of the iPhone. The camera was excellent, and Atticus was amazed at how simple it was to use.
Jake had set up an Instagram account for him, calling it @thetravellinggrandad. The boy had shown Atticus how to upload photos using hashtags, explaining that it was a way of keeping in touch. Jake and Arthur had followed the account so they could see the photos and enjoy the journey, too. Atticus thought having a virtual photo album was a splendid idea. In his day, it had been film on a reel that you took to Boots the Chemist to be developed into pictures, which Clara would then glue into the pages of a glossy album.
This newfangled phone saved all that bother.
Standing on a grassy verge, he pointed his phone at a giant iron billboard standing over fourteen metres tall. The impressive structure depicted a massive black bull. Jake had a whole page dedicated to the bull in the travel folder and Atticus knew that approximately ninety-two similar bulls were positioned on hilltops or alongside roadways throughout Spain. Jake, intrigued by their existence, had told Atticus to photograph as many as he could find. Consulting the folder, Atticus learnt that the El Toro de Osborne – the Osborne Bull – had been created in 1956 to advertise brandy and had since become a national emblem.
‘Gotcha!’ Atticus said as he took several images.
As the day wore on, Atticus decided to break up the journey with an overnight stop before they reached Madrid. Having had little sleep on the ferry, he was feeling tired. He’d noted signs for ‘Area de Servicio’ and chose one with plenty of parking space. Atticus edged Winnie by a grassy verge between two articulated trucks. A café served hot food, and he tucked into a dish named ‘Cocido Madrileña’, which resembled a hearty stew. The meal was delicious and a perfect choice. Wiping the plate clean with a chunk of crusty bread, Atticus licked his lips.
With a full stomach and feeling weary, Atticus took Ness for her last stroll of the day. Heading back to Winnie, he noted that her round headlights gleamed like a pair of eager eyes, and her fender seemed to curve upwards in a grin. ‘Hello, old girl,’ he said and smiled with pleasure at his motorised companion.
Deciding to message Jake and let his grandson know all was well, he pulled out the camper’s sofa and lay down on the bed, snuggling under a soft, downy duvet with Ness curled into his back. To the rumble of distant traffic, the world outside Winnie faded away. A sigh escaped from Atticus’s lips while Ness’s paws twitched in her dreams.
In moments, The Travelling Grandad and his dog drifted into a deep and satisfying sleep.
Chapter Eleven
In his bedroom on the second floor of Barn Hill farmhouse, Jake sat at a desk in one corner and studied his laptop screen. His Instagram account was open, and as he scrolled through a page of new images, a call came in on his phone.
‘Is that you?’ Arthur whispered.
‘Hello, Uncle Arthur,’ Jake replied. ‘Yes, it’s me. Who else were you expecting?’
‘I wasn’t sure. Word on the grapevine is that you’ve been grounded?’
‘Yep, I’m only let out of my room to go to school. Grounded for a whole week.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, lad. Your dad must be very cross.’
‘He’s raging. He won’t let me service the caravan site and refuses to let me near Grandad’s Little Grey Fergie.’
‘Maybe he thinks you’ll do a disappearing act toSpain,’ Arthur chuckled.
‘I would if I could, although it might be slow going on a tractor.’
‘What have you told him?’
‘The truth,’ Jake sighed. ‘It’s better that dad knows we did as much research as possible before Grandad set off.’
‘Aye, that makes sense.’
