Page 18 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘I’ve no intention of doing that, but money is hardly a worry, and my name is still on the farm. It will all go to the family, of course, so they’ll be well provided for.’
‘When do you plan to set off?’
‘As soon as my passport is sorted and the paperwork for the dog in order.’
‘She’ll need to visit the vet for a rabies injection too, I imagine?’ Arthur asked.
‘Aye, up-to-date boosters and tapeworm treatment too.’ Atticus looked at Ness, who’d raised her head and growled at the mention of the vet. ‘The old girl has a sixth sense,’ he chuckled, recalling the dog baring her teeth at Mr Herriot the last time she’d been for her boosters.
‘Where will you stay while you travel?’ Arthur asked.
Atticus did a double-take and stared at his friend. ‘Where do you think? In Winnie, of course.’
‘But what if you get stuck somewhere without electricity, water, or conveniences?’
‘This isn’t the last century; folk travel like this all the time and manage,’ Atticus said. ‘Besides, once I get to the camping site, there will be all the facilities I couldpossibly need.’
‘The domino team will miss you,’ Arthur said.
‘I’m sure you can hold the fort while I’m gone.’
‘Well, all I can say is good luck and I wish I was riding shotgun beside you.’ Arthur raised his glass. ‘You’re growing older with Europe at your feet – let your age be your guide.’
They both clinked glasses and stared fondly at each other.
Atticus looked thoughtful. ‘Jake always says, “Travel is the fountain of youth”.’
‘That lad has a vivid imagination,’ Arthur grinned. ‘But when you return, I expect you to look twenty years younger.’
As Atticus sipped his whisky and Arthur ordered another, a thought ran through his mind.
If I return!
Chapter Seven
Mungo sat in his office and stared at the screen on his desktop. Halfway through October already, and the farm’s finances were worrying. Buying in stock for Christmas had drained their accounts, and it was essential that they sold out to get through the quiet months at the start of the new year.
‘Coffee?’ Ali called out. She stood beside a machine where a grinder whirred, pulverising coffee beans into a fine powder. Taking a mug, she handed Mungo a rich, velvety brew.
‘Your dad is busy,’ Ali said and moved to the window. ‘He’s back and forth from the cottage to the barn. What do you think he’s up to?’
Mungo didn’t look up. Figures on a spreadsheet were dancing before his eyes. ‘It’s the camper van,’ Mungo replied. ‘He’s been fixing it up.’
‘Is he going on a holiday?’
‘I hope not,’ Mungo sighed. ‘I’ve got enoughto worry about with the business without having to deal with Dad setting off anywhere on his own.’
‘I think it’s great that he’s got an interest,’ Ali said, watching Atticus walk purposefully across the yard.
‘It won’t last,’ Mungo murmured, reaching for a calculator. ‘He never goes anywhere other than a drive around the village with Jake beside him, which, at seventy, is far enough. I don’t want him going any further.’
Ali glanced sideways at Mungo. She thought his comment ageist and rather controlling. She considered Atticus to have more life in him than most people his age.
‘Well, your dad has perked up. He’s walking tall and even wearing that crazy old Stetson cowboy hat at a jaunty angle,’ Ali said, stretching her neck to watch Atticus. ‘You know he’s a good-looking man. I could easily fancy him.’
Mungo looked up, shocked by Ali’s words. Pushing the calculator aside, he grabbed his coffee to join Ali.
They watched as Atticus disappeared into the barn.
