Page 47 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
Arthur drew back his head,his voice filled with confusion. ‘And that short exchange with a stranger developed into a date?’
‘It didn’t develop,’ Atticus said. ‘It hit me like a thunderbolt!’ His voice was animated. ‘I knew that if I didn’t ask her then and there, I’d never have the courage to do so.’ Atticus paused. ‘And there was something else,’ he added.
‘Eh? What was that?’
‘Clara told me to do it.’
‘I see,’ Arthur said, not seeing at all.Now his friend was hearing voices!
‘But I think she’s younger than me,’ Atticus remarked, ‘maybe in her fifties.’
As Atticus began to discuss where to take Britta for their date, Arthur shook his head and sat back.His friend was dating a foreign woman who was several years younger.
Beginning to rock again, Arthur sighed as he listened to his friend babble on.
Reg tapped on the bar and pulled Arthur out of his trance. ‘You look like you could use a stiff drink,’ he said. ‘Is everything alright, Arthur?’
‘Aye, sorry. I was miles away.’
‘Wishing you were in sunnier climes with Atticus?’
‘Yes, something like that.’ Arthur was thoughtful. He’d decided not to mention Atticus’s news, hoping it would fade away with the Spanish tide.
Arthur couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions – happiness for his friend, but also a tinge of envy. His goldenyears with Shirley were decidedly dim, the light having gone out decades ago.
‘Give him our best regards when you next speak to him,’ Reg continued. ‘The pub’s Senior Socials Club wants to know if he’ll be their speaker when he gets back; they’ve all got The Travelling Grandad bug.’ Reg reached up to an optic and poured Arthur a large whisky. ‘Everyone’s started Instagram accounts to follow him.’
Arthur wondered what the pub’s pensioners would make of Atticus’s latest news, soon to hit social media. More worryingly was Mungo’s reaction. Arthur downed his whisky and thought of the explosion that would shatter the peace at Barn Hill Farm when The Travelling Grandad shared love letters from the Costas and captivating date nights. Mungo would have a fit and probably think Britta’s attraction to Atticus was financial.
But as Arthur finished his drink, gathered his coat, and reached for his bob hat and scarf, he knew he had far more pressing problems. There was a gnome crisis at Gnome-Sweet-Gnome, and Arthur urgently needed to confer with Jake to find a gnome-emergency repair shop.
‘See you soon!’ Arthur called out to Reg. He secured his bob hat, and with a wave of his mitten-clad hand, braced himself not only for the wild weather but also for the tricky challenges with Shirley at Gn’Home.
Saturday lunchtime at the local Spanish market was once again a bustling hive of activity. The charming little café,La Tasca, was busy with locals and tourists crowded around tables and chairs, engaged in lively conversation.
Sheltering from the sun in the shade of overhanging trees, Atticus sat with Cheryl and Ruby as flamenco music floated across the square. Feeling the heat, Ness lay under the table, her tail lazily flicking at flies. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby stall mingled with the sweet fragrance of churros dusted with cinnamon. Chatting idly, Cheryl sipped fresh orange juice, and Ruby held a glass of sangria, while Atticus enjoyed his café con leche. They’d ordered tostados, and as they waited for their brunch, Atticus suddenly felt compelled to speak. He needed advice and hoped that his new friends might help him.
‘You’re fidgety,’ Cheryl said, adjusting huge sunglasses perched on her nose. She studied Atticus, who held his hat in his hand and twisted it round and round.
‘Aye, sorry,’ he replied, placing the hat to one side. ‘I don’t know who to ask, you see. I need some assistance.’
‘We can help.’ Cheryl reached out and patted his arm. ‘What’s bothering you?’
‘Fire away,’ Ruby instructed and pulled her chair closer.
‘I was on the beach earlier and stopped to have a bite of breakfast,’ Atticus began, ‘and there was this person, well, lady, you know, a woman…’
‘Yes, love, we know what one of those is,’ Cheryl said.
‘She was very nice and er…’ Atticus stuttered, ‘before I knew what I was doing, I asked her if she’d have a meal with metomorrow.’
‘Bulls eye!’ Ruby took a swig of sangria.
‘You don’t hang about, do you?’ Cheryl chuckled.
‘To be honest, I’m staggered that I asked, and even more staggered that she agreed.’ Atticus shrugged. He wondered if he should confide that Clara had spurred him on, but his friends might think he was going doolally. ‘But now I haven’t a clue where I might take her, and I hope you can help.’
‘What’s her name?’ Cheryl asked.
