Page 91 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
It was the last day of school before the Christmas break, and Mary was like a whirlwind. She wondered why schools couldn’t break up at least a week before Christmas to give parents time to prepare. With only four days to go before the big day, she had much to do.
She’d woken early and, dressing hurriedly, movedthrough the house, her mind full of tasks. Conor wasn’t home, but she could see that his bed had been slept in and remembered that he’d put the kids to bed the night before. He’d appeared relaxed and normal at school events, sitting next to Mary at Finn’s pantomime and Declan’s nativity, chatting with everyone as though their marriage was harmonious and happy. But Mary knew that the gossiping mums weren’t fooled, and she’d overheard their whispered conversations from the row behind.
‘I hear they’ve been arguing non-stop, something about financial troubles?’
‘Someone saw him leaving Creek House again last week, on his way to work.’
The agony for Mary went on.
Making sure breakfast was on the table before the kids stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed but excited for their last day, Mary was gentle but firm as she shepherded them through the morning routine – brushing teeth, finding shoes, and packing lunches. As she bundled them into the car, Mary double-checked for backpacks.
‘Does Santa have my list?’ Declan asked. He sat beside Maeve, who was studying her phone, with his teddy gripped in his hand.
‘Yes, my darling, Santa knows what you want,’ Mary replied. ‘And there is a big surprise for you all tomorrow, so I want you to be extra good.’
‘Grandad hasn’t posted anything for two days,’ Maeve said, her thumb moving over her screen as she studied Instagram images.
‘He’s probably busy,’Mary replied.
Mary thought it was most unusual that Atticus hadn’t uploaded any recent photos. Not a day had passed since his time in Spain when his followers hadn’t been treated to an update. She made a mental note to call him after completing the day’s many tasks.
With everyone safely at school, Mary drove home. In the kitchen, she made an extra-strong coffee. As she reached for her laptop and settled comfortably, her phone rang.
It was Mungo.
‘Bit early for you, isn’t it?’ Mary asked and took a sip of her drink. Mungo was generally elbow-deep in paperwork at this time of day.
‘Don’t hang up on me.’
‘It depends on what you have to say.’
‘Dad has boughtthat womana house.’
Mungo’s tone was controlled, but Mary felt that her brother was about to lose it.
‘I know. But it’s not a house. It’s a cottage on the beach.’
‘What? You already know?’ Mungo was furious.
‘Yes, we spoke about it last week. The paperwork is with a lawyer, and Dad feels confident there won’t be any legal hitches.’
‘He told you, but informs me by email!’
‘Dad probably doesn’t want to be shouted at.’ Mary rolled her eyes.
‘He’s not answering his phone.’
‘Can you blame him? You’re hardly the Christmas fairy, waving your wand with good cheer.’
‘Don’t you realise what this means?’
‘Yes, Mungo, I’m not stupid.’ Mary sighed. ‘Dad might get married again, and we need to have a conversation with him about changing his will.’
‘We can’t let some money-grabbing floozy get hold of it all.’ Mungo wasn’t listening to his sister. ‘First a house, next the farm.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, get a grip and just listen to yourself.’ Mary placed her coffee down and began to pace. ‘Dad isn’t stupid, and he’ll never do anything to risk our financial future.’
‘But he’s lost his head. Women like that take advantage of doddering old men.’
