Page 93 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘This should be good,’ Arthur mused and drained his pint. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Reg,’ he called out and held up his empty glass. ‘I think I’m going to need it.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was Christmas Eve at Solma Vacaciones, and the site was buzzing with festive cheer. Campers, enjoying the atmosphere, had taken great pains decorating their pitches, and a multitude of colourful decorations added a jovial contrast to the natural surroundings. By the swimming pool, a Christmas market offered local crafts and Spanish delicacies, including cinnamon churros and tapas. Pretty decorations were displayed on tiny trees alongside handmade ornaments. Expats and friends gathered, mingling with campers and exchanging multicultural greetings, while Christmas songs were sung by a group near the bar. Spanish families had arrived, setting up homes in caravans and chalets, placing tables in the gardens for communal outdoor eating.
In Cheryl and Ruby’s chalet, Cheryl was busy ironing outfits. Erik was hosting a party that evening, and she wanted to look her best.
‘I’ve just spoken to Erik,’ she told Ruby, who’d taken Ness for a walk. ‘All our arrangements are in place.’
‘Is the transport he arranged on time?’ Ruby asked.
‘Yes, it’s on its way to Alicante as we speak, and a later taxi is booked too.’
‘Perfect,’ Ruby said, rubbing Ness’s head, reaching into the fridge for a cold beer. ‘I’ve sorted the catering out with our friendly receptionist and am assured that it will be delivered on time to Erik’s.’
‘Have the cleaners finished next door?’ Cheryl asked, watching Ruby lean out of the window to study the adjacent chalet.
‘Looks like it,’ Ruby replied.
‘When you’ve finished your beer, let’s get the place decorated.’ Cheryl put the finishing touches on her outfit, smoothing the last creases.
‘We’d better call Atticus and make sure all’s well at his end!’
‘I’m on it,’ Cheryl said, reaching for her phone. As she waited for him to answer, she turned to Ruby and smiled. ‘It’s going to be a cracking Christmas.’
At Casita del Mar, Britta sat on the terrace with a paintbrush in her hand. Her easel, which was beyond repair, had been replaced by Erik.
‘An early Christmas gift,’ he’d explained when he carried the large frame into the cottage the day before.Despite her painful bruises, she was determined to continue and finish her painting.
‘I think you’re doing too much,’ Atticus said as he placed a glass of iced lemonade beside her. ‘The doctor at the hospital said that you must rest.’
‘Ihavebeen resting,’ Britta said, smiling. ‘And I’ve been in bed for twenty-four hours.’
‘Do you think that you’re up to the party tonight?’
‘Yes, of course, the bruises will fade,’ she said. ‘My energy has returned, and now I know that Daan can’t hurt me, my spirit feels strong, and I want to enjoy every moment with you.’ Britta reached out to take his hand. ‘This is our first Christmas together.’
‘The first of many.’ Atticus kissed her fingers.
He’d spoken to her about Daan and mentioned that, following Erik’s intervention, he wouldn’t be troubling her again. Britta had nodded. She understood and passed no comment.
‘I am glad you’re feeling better,’ Atticus continued. ‘I have a surprise for you at Solma Vacaciones.’
‘I like surprises, but if you don’t let me finish this painting, we won’t be going anywhere,’ Britta chided and kissed his fingers.
Atticus went to the terrace. It felt strange not to have Ness by his side; he missed the old dog but knew they’d be reunited soon and was grateful to his friends for stepping in and helping. Cheryl and Ruby were invaluable. Bringing food, supplying Arnica for Britta’s bruises and herbal potions to help her sleep, they’d helped in more ways than he couldhave imagined.
Ensuring he rested too, they’d tidied the cottage, removing any trace of Daan’s destruction. They even decorated it with festive cheer, draping pretty garlands and placing fairy lights around a Christmas tree, silently working away while Britta and Atticus slept.
Now, Atticus looked forward to the party and was pleased that Britta said she was up to it. He wondered what she’d make of his surprise and couldn’t wait to share it. Glancing at his watch, he realised there were only six hours to go. Perhaps, when Britta finished her painting, they would swim in the sea. Britta had told him that saltwater works wonders on the body, cleansing and purifying with its natural minerals, which was why she took a daily bathe.
Sitting down on the steps of the cottage, Atticus stared at the empty beach.
Looking up, he saw a plane in the sky. Its metallic frame glinted in the sunlight, and from a distance, it appeared tiny but grew larger as it began its descent to Alicante airport. He smiled as he thought of the passengers on board, heading to Spain for Christmas.
What a Christmas this was going to be.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
