Page 16 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘But I do worry. Without an interest, he might fade away.’
‘I know, but to have a life, you have towanta life,’ Mungo said, ‘and only Dad can decide how he chooses to spend his time.’
In the snug of The Black Bull, Atticus knewexactlyhow he’d chosen to spend his time. But as he pondered the decision with Arthur in their favourite corner, he felt certain that Mungo wasn’t going to like it.
Atticus’s hands, the nails dark with oil, were wrapped around a pint glass, and his amber eyes wide with a twinkle of mischief. ‘So, what do you think?’ he asked his friend.
Arthur, his grey hair neatly combed, removed the spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose and placed them down on a printed paper on the table. ‘I think you might have lost your marbles,’ he replied.
‘But what do youreallythink?’ Atticus insisted.
‘Well, you’ve definitely lost the plot, but… if Shirley would givemeleave of absence, I’d be coming with you,’ Arthur sighed. ‘The moon will turn blue before that happens,’ he added. ‘I thought you’d place Winnie back instorage and bring her out for a little holiday to Wales now and again. What’s put this idea in your head?’
‘I’ve been talking to Jake, and the lad has given me things to think about,’ Atticus began. ‘He’s opened my eyes and shown me how to use the internet and Arthur…’ – he paused, a smile creeping across his face – ‘…it’s brilliant! There’s an entire world out there that I’ve been too stuck in my grief to see. Rediscovering Winnie, well, it’s like she’s shaken me awake after years of being stuck.’
‘Your Clara would be pleased to hear you talk like this.’ Arthur nodded.
‘So, do you think it’s a good idea?’
‘I think it’s your best idea in years.’
Atticus picked up the piece of paper Jake had printed off the internet. ‘Solma Vacaciones Camping welcomes visitors all year round,’ he read aloud. ‘It says the low season is the perfect time for those of advanced years to relax and enjoy the climate, and special rates apply for motorhomes and caravans.’
‘Are you sure about camping?’ Arthur thought of the site at Barn Hill Farm that Atticus refused to have anything to do with.
‘Clara and I took Winnie away when the kids were young, and I managed then,’ Atticus reasoned.
‘But that was to Wales, and the furthest you got was Bangor.’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Now you’re proposing to set off for the Costas and drive thousands of miles in a forty-year-old camper?’
‘Aye, it’s amazing how the internet opens yourmind to possibilities,’ Atticus said, taking a sip of his beer. ‘Many retired Continentals do it, and lots of Brits too.’
‘But why that site?’ Arthur asked.
‘Clara always wanted to go to Alicante and discover the Costa Blanca. We’d even planned a holiday,’ Atticus explained. ‘The site is situated in an area she wanted to visit. I thought I might scatter her ashes.’
‘So, you’re honouring her memory by making the trip?’
‘Exactly. It’s what she’d want me to do.’
Atticus thought of the hours he’d spent over the last month, silver-surfing through sites Jake had guided him to. It was as though he’d suddenly woken up and the spirit of Clara was urging him to embrace a new chapter.
‘Jake will have much to answer for when Mungo and Mary find out,’ Arthur chuckled.
‘Mary will be pleased. Its Mungo that’s the problem,’ Atticus replied with a shrug. ‘He thinks a few days in Wales is as far as I should go, and that’s probably too far for an old dodderer like me.’
‘I think I agree with Mungo, but if you’re determined to go ahead with this trip, research as much as you can with Jake.’
‘Aye, Jake’s been an inspiration.’ Atticus reached into a pocket. ‘Look, he’s even fixed me up with a mobile.’
Arthur stared at the latest version of the iPhone that Atticus held in his hand. ‘That must have cost you. Can you use it?’ he asked.
‘It cost an arm and a leg, but I like it, and Jake says you can’t travel without one. He’s shown me how to use thecamera too, so I can keep a memory of where I go. Plus, he’s programmed everyone’s details into it.’
Arthur drained his glass and nodded to Reg for a refill. ‘Better add two large whiskies,’ he said, ‘I think we’re going to need them.’
He stared at Atticus, amazed by the transformation in his friend. In the last week or so, Atticus had lost his weariness and gained a zest for life.
‘It says here that the site is a ten-minute walk from the Costa Blanca seafront and a five-minute drive from the town of Guardamar,’ Atticus continued. ‘With a varied entertainment programme, a restaurant serving international food, and a café and bar beside a poolside terrace.’
