Page 43 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
Mary gasped. She was shocked by the venom in Mungo’s voice. Feeling unable to carry on with the conversation, she spoke softly. ‘I’m sorry that you feel that way…’ She paused, waiting for Mungo to say more, but only silence followed. ‘And now, I am going to end the call,’ Mary added.
She hung up and, for a few moments, sat and thought about Mungo’s words. Then, picking up her phone again, she tapped out a text to Atticus.
Hi Dad. Hope you’re having a great holiday and meeting lots of new people. I am enjoying your photos on Instagram. Keep well and safe and speak soon. Love Mary xx
When Mary returned to the pub, she noted that Conor was several drinks in. He’d found a table, and empty glasses lay before him. His pint was gone, replaced by a large whisky, which he held in one hand while speaking on his phone with the other.
There was a break in the music, and as Mary sat down, she asked her husband who he was talking to.
‘Just checking on the kids,’ he replied, quickly hanging up and thrusting the phone into his pocket.
Mary frowned. She wasn’t aware that he had the babysitter’s number, but if he was, at last, having some input with the children’s welfare, she wouldn’t question him.
‘Are they okay?’ Mary asked.
‘Of course, glued to the TV,’ he replied. ‘Is Mungo alright?’
Mary thought she detected a slight slur in Conor’s words and realised that she’d been away too long. This wasn’t how she’d planned the night. Conor was hopeless after a few drinks, and although he was a pleasant drunk, he tended to fall asleep.
Mary began to tell Conor about the call, but as the music struck up again, she could see that he wasn’t interested and was now singing along with the group.
Mary picked up her glass and sippedthe sparkling water. It tasted warm and flat.Exactly how I feel,she thought to herself.
Conor was on his feet, joining in with a rowdy chorus. As Mary stood too, she suddenly felt the button pop on her jeans, and her stomach burst over the top.
So much for her date night!
Chapter Seventeen
Atticus was settling into a routine, and as his first week in Spain came to a close, he found that he was enjoying the leisurely pace of life. Waking early, as light trickled through Winnie’s curtains, he pulled on shorts from a selection he’d acquired at the market, added a T-shirt, and slipped into comfortable sandals. Ness shook her head to rouse herself, rose with a gentle stretch, and needed no encouragement to accompany Atticus on his first walk of the morning. The days had rolled by, and Atticus was only aware that it was Saturday again because Cheryl and Ruby had reminded him that they would be going to the market for their tapas lunch if he chose to accompany them.
Now, as Atticus stood in the shower block and leisurely shaved, he thought about home. The fells in autumn would look lovely, but with winter approaching, the weather would soon change – a time when his arthritis would start to niggle, and his joints would become stiff. He thought ofthe damp winter months that never seemed to affect business at the farm and knew that the tills in the farm shop and café would be ringing loudly. With any luck, it would put a smile on his son’s face, Atticus reflected as he walked back to Winnie. He knew that his exploits enraged Mungo and hadn’t heard a word from the farm, other than Jake’s daily texts informing his grandad that Mungo was a numpty. Thankfully, Jake was no longer grounded.
Feeling disinclined to make a call and receive another ear-bashing from Mungo, Atticus grabbed his hat and set off. Ness, walking to heel on her lead and with a happy wag of her tail, was the perfect example of a well-behaved dog – unlike some of the animals Atticus had encountered on the site. It amazed him that a variety of creatures travelled with the campers. He’d seen birds in cages, dogs of all shapes and sizes, and every variety of cat. A Swiss couple nearby had even built an enclosure for their rabbit, and it was allowed to roam freely.
‘Good morning!’ Atticus called out to a Dutch couple heading to the spa for an early swim. With towels rolled under their arms and wearing a brief bikini and trunks, Atticus wondered what folk back home would think if he paraded about in almost nothing.
Averting his eyes from skin that told of a life well lived, Atticus decided that older bodies looked far better covered up. He’d discussed this with Cheryl the previous day when they sat under a shady umbrella and drank coffee beside the open-air pool.
Cheryl, wearing a baby-pink tankini, listened to his comment, and eloquently replied that true beauty didn’t liein the perfection of youth but in the depth of character that came with age.
Atticus did a double take and wondered if she’d read that somewhere, but acknowledging that she had a point, he wasn’t convinced as he watched ancient bodies bounce up and down in an energetic aqua aerobics class. Waist-deep and moving to the rhythm of lively music, the water rose and fell like a tsunami. At the same time, an enthusiastic young Spanish instructor named Sophia, wearing a minuscule bright red one-piece, spurred the elderly swimmers on.
‘Sí!Hagámoslo!’ Sophia yelled as she danced by the side of the pool, kicking her legs and waving her arms. ‘Let’s do this! Get moving, my senior squad!’
Atticus thought that if some of the senior squad moved any more energetically, they would end up in the nearest accident and emergency department, and Sophia might be sued. Still, he’d kept his thoughts to himself as he helped Cheryl to her feet and eased her into the children’s pool.
‘Are you joining in with the class?’ he’d asked.
‘Not likely,’ Cheryl replied. ‘I’m going to catch a few rays.’
Cheryl waded across the pool, where large synthetic animals formed slides and rides. Ignoring the notices that stated, ‘No child over twelve allowed on the rides’, she straddled an inflatable hippo and sat down. ‘Come in, the water’s lovely!’ she called out.
Atticus smiled as he remembered Cheryl topping up her tan, her head thrown back and arms outstretched. Her spandex-encased body sprawled acrossthe hippo.
‘It’s a grand life,’ he said to Ness as they went through the site and headed to the track leading to the beach at La Marina.
Once off her lead, Ness ran ahead, sensing new smells in the reedy vegetation that sprang from the edge of the River Segura, running adjacent to the track. Fishermen looked up and called out a greeting as they cast their lines into the muddy-coloured water.
