Page 8 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Oh, I’m too old for all that,’ Atticus said, rising and pushing back his chair. ‘I’ll be getting off now.’ He walked over to Declan and removed Teddy from his temporary ‘bed’, prising Declan’s sticky fingers from his hat.
Declan pouted, gripping Teddy tightly.
‘Your Mam will find another hat for Teddy,’ Atticus said as he brushed crumbs from its brim.
Mary watched her father leave and heard Jake complain to Mungo that he wished his grandad had more time to spend with him. His expertise with vehicles was better than anything Jake could learn at college.
Suddenly, with all the talk of the tractor, Mary’s mind was racing. A memory of childhood came back to her as she thought of the old barn where the Little Grey Fergie used to be stored. With the children’s chatter in the background, an idea began to form.
Could a remnant of those holidays still be in the barn?
Might there be a way to wake Atticus up and help him embrace the golden years?
An idea sparked, but her plan would require careful scheming and hinge entirely on her father’s love of hoarding anything remotely tied to the farm.
Crossing her fingers, Mary felt a surgeof determination. Reaching for another piece of gingerbread, she chewed thoughtfully, her mind spinning. She knew her father well enough to understand one crucial detail. He must believe the idea was entirely his own. Licking crumbs from her fingers, she gave a decisive nod.
It was bold but worth a shot, and her idea might just work!
Chapter Four
The following morning, during his tour of the business, Mungo watched caravan guests in the shop loading baskets with farm-fresh eggs, pantry staples, and regional treats. The butcher’s counter showcased prime cuts and tender lamb, and the cake display tempted him with fluffy scones. Mungo’s stomach rumbled. It was time for breakfast.
At the farmhouse, Eliza greeted him, ‘Hi, Dad.’ She wrestled a scrunchie around her wild hair in readiness for her stint in the café. ‘You’d better be quick if you want something to eat.’
‘Thanks for the heads up, I’m starving. Have a good shift, the café is full already.’
‘That means I’ll be knee-deep in pots.’ Eliza grinned and, tying an apron, dashed away.
In the kitchen, Finn was dribbling a football. ‘Uncle Mungo! Play footballwith me?’
‘I’ll certainly have a kickabout later,’ Mungo ruffled Finn’s thick curls as he shot the ball into the hallway.
Mary was fussing around the table, and Mungo thought how well she looked. Irish life suited her, despite the hectic lifestyle. Her chestnut hair cascaded in waves, and her peachy complexion was as fresh as the day she’d left for Kindale.
‘Conor couldn’t make it?’ Mungo asked.
‘He’s swamped with a big land deal,’ Mary said, peeling a banana. ‘He’s barely been home.’
‘I thought summer was a quieter period?’
‘Not for property deals,’ she sighed. ‘It’s cutthroat, and Conor must stay competitive.’
‘Well, I’m just a humble shop manager.’
‘With a booming business,’ Mary countered.
Mungo shrugged. Businesswasbooming, but borrowings were high to cover their rapid expansion, and repayments were a constant worry.
‘It’s good to have you here,’ Mungo said, biting back the thought that Conor should have made time to be with his family, though the two men had never been close.
Turning to Helen, he asked, ‘What are your plans for the day?’
‘I’m taking Maeve and Caitlin to a craft fair in Eden this morning,’ Helen said and sipped her coffee. ‘I’ve baked scones for the cake stall.’
Maeve gave a thumbs-up while Caitlin frowned, glued to her phone.
Mary began to clear the table and wiped sticky fingers and jam-smudged faces. ‘I’ll take the boys to see Dad.’
