Page 25 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Not just Arthur,’ Mungo sneered. ‘Jake must have had a hand in this too.’
Mary visualised her brother tapping his desk with tense fingers as he worked out how to get to the bottom of things. Her nephew needed to take cover. Mungo was bound to suss Jake out.
‘He’s only doing what Mum would have wanted him to do,’ Mary said. ‘Don’t you remember that they’d planned a holiday to Spain?’
‘Via an airplane and a creditable taxi service, not at the wheel of a vehicle held together with duct tape and dreams. He was talking like a robot when I spoke to him.’ Mungo’s voice was tight with frustration.
‘Ah, he’ll be getting used to the settings on his phone,’ Mary nodded.
But as Mary made herself comfortable for the duration of Mungo’s rant, she had no doubt that Atticus, Arthur, and Jake had carefully planned the trip. It amused her to think of the trio entrenching themselves in the barn. While sorting out Winnie’s engine, Jake would have shownAtticus the wonders of the internet, and Mary knew that it would have opened her father’s eyes to endless possibilities.
At last! He was regaining his life.
Mungo was deliberating his issues with Atticus and the business, arguing that their father had now admitted he had simply given in to all the changes he’d instigated.
Mary rolled her eyes. She decided she’d had enough. If Mungo couldn’t be happy about the situation, he must learn to live with it. Right now, she had far more critical things to consider than Atticus sipping sangria in the sunshine and making new friends. She had to make inroads on her waistline and regain the shape she enjoyed when she married Conor.
‘Mungo, I have to go,’ Mary said. ‘Perhaps we can discuss this again when you’ve had time to think about things.’
‘But you can’t…’ Mungo stuttered.
Oh yes, I can!Mary thought, and with a polite goodbye, she disconnected the call.
Chapter Ten
As the sun descended over the coastal town of Portsmouth, Atticus drove Winnie onto the Brittany FerryGalicia, under the dying light of the day. Constantly checking his mirrors, he took great care to follow the instructions from attendants in high-vis jackets as he warily negotiated the camper onto the car deck and parked tightly alongside motorhomes, cars, and caravans.
‘Phew, we made it,’ Atticus said to Ness, breathing a sigh of relief as he sat back to watch passengers pile out of their vehicles, gathering overnight bags for the crossing. Ness perked up as she heard barks and yips, her tail wagging gently.
‘You’re not the only canine traveller,’ Atticus said, hooking a lead on Ness’s collar. ‘And I’m afraid you have to wear this.’ He slipped a muzzle from a side pocket on the dog. Raising a paw, Ness tried to unhook the mouthguard but stopped when Atticus tapped her on the head. ‘It won’t be for long,but it’s a rule when you board,’ he said.
Climbing out of Winnie, Atticus picked up his pre-packed rucksack and, taking care to lock Winnie, followed the crowd heading out of the car deck and onto the ship. After passing through customs, he’d received his boarding card and cabin number. Atticus was pleased that he’d successfully checked Ness in as well, managing the complicated paperwork and microchip check. He silently thanked Arthur and Jake for their research on travelling with an animal.
The pet-friendly cabin was comfortable and spacious, with two berths and an ensuite bathroom. ‘We even have a porthole,’ Atticus mused as he stared out at the dark silhouettes of buildings lining the harbour.
As the engines rumbled to life and the ship glided away from land, Atticus wandered around the decks, leaving Ness in the cabin. Beneath his feet, he felt a gentle sway as the ferry gained momentum, and the lights from the shore became a distant blur. The scent of the sea and the sound of the waves lapping against the hull had been soothing, and Atticus, who’d been anxious after his angry exchange with Mungo, felt his worries slowly sliding away.
Here he was! At last able to chart his own course.
So, Clara, this is what travelling abroad feels like, Atticus thought as he sat in the bar a short while later and ordered a pint. There was a buzz of activity all around him as passengers explored the ship’s amenities and settled into their seats.
Atticus toyed with visiting one of the many restaurants and having a snack. But he’d enjoyed fish and chips with Ness that afternoon and needed no furtherrefreshment. He’d noted a film showing in the cinema and, soon to start, a cabaret act in the theatre. Promising himself a stroll around the luxurious duty-free shops, Atticus was in awe of all the entertainment and the many facilities available to make the journey comfortable. With a full day ahead tomorrow and another night at sea, Atticus would have nothing to do but explore, and he intended to make the most of his onboard stay.
Draining his pint, Atticus checked his watch. Having travelled through the night, he yawned, realised he was tired, and decided to go to bed. But Ness would need exercise and a comfort break before they turned in.
On the doggie deck, Atticus again thought of Mungo and wished his son had seen sense. Gripping Ness’s lead as she tugged in pursuit of a tail-wagging Westie, he wondered if things would ever be right between them. But Atticus knew that Mungo, when vexed, was as stubborn as his father and dismissing the thought, he decided that as soon as he arrived at his destination, he would get in touch with Mary. His daughter, no doubt delighted, would know what to do and laugh joyfully at the thought of her dad off on an adventure.
As his head hit the pillow, Atticus’s last thoughts were of sunshine and sandy beaches. He remembered the website for the Spanish campsite and visualised strolling along the shores of the Mediterranean with the sea as a calm, mesmerising canvas. In moments, all thoughts of his row with Mungo had gone, and with Ness snoring beside him, Atticus fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Thirty-two hours later, as theGaliciadocked in Santander, a pale-faced Atticus sat on the car deck behind Winnie’s wheel, waiting to disembark. He wondered if he was going to throw up again and prayed that the dry toast he’d managed to eat at breakfast had settled in his stomach.
The sailing, which had begun innocuously as the ferry departed, soon became a nightmare for Atticus, who was unaware of an impending storm. As they ventured south to leave the English Channel and head along the coast of France, Atticus was woken by the sound of waves crashing against the vessel. Determined to ignore the elements, he’d gripped a pillow over his head and tried to sleep. But a curious feeling in the pit of his stomach had begun, and feeling queasy, Atticus sat up.
‘Oh, Ness…’ he murmured as he gripped the side of the bed and raced to the bathroom. ‘I shouldn’t have had greasy fish and chips for tea.’
As the ship entered the Bay of Biscay, it mirrored Atticus’s stomach, pitching and rolling. Gigantic waves created swells, rising then falling with relentless fury. The storm was vicious throughout the following day, and over the public address system piped into the cabins, the ship’s purser advised passengers not to move around the ship for their own safety.
‘Huh!’ Atticus said to Ness as he raced to the bathroom again. ‘Walking about is as likely as a pig flying!’
