Page 53 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘I’d like that,’ Atticus said. ‘Do you cycle far?’
‘Some days. But for distances, I take the car.’
‘Car?’
‘It’s stored below.’ Erik pointed to the floor, and Atticus nodded. Naturally, this magnificent beast would have storage, and Atticus imagined the lift and ramp system below.
‘Tonight, we barbecue here. You must stay.’ Erik stood and reached for Atticus’s empty beer bottle.
‘Well, that’s kind of you to ask, but I must go to the supermarket and contribute.’
Erik shook his head. ‘No, my friend, one day we will all come to you,’ he said, ‘and the restaurant here is delivering everything for me.’
As Erik disappeared to the bar, Atticus puffed out a breath. He tried to imagine the value of the motorhome and thought it must be worth a fortune. How fascinating it was to see such a different way of life. Atticus thought of Winnie and remembered Erik’s kindness when erecting the awning. What ever must he have thought of Atticus’s modest setup compared to his own?
But as Atticus sank deep into the luxurious sofa, he felt a sense of relief. The barbecue would take his mindoff thoughts of The Date next day and his anxiety about Britta. He knew it would only be momentary, but in the meantime, at least he could relax and make himself useful by helping Erik with the cooking.
Atticus looked around and remembered Arthur once saying that money can’t buy happiness. Atticus began to chuckle. His friend should consider purchasing a one-way ticket to Spain.
Chapter Twenty
Sunday at Belvedere House, the morning after the Halloween party from hell, Mary sat in her kitchen, idly wondering how she would get red paint off a brilliant white wall.
Strangely, her worry wasn’t a big concern.
Neither was her anger toward Patrick, the child who’d produced a paint gun and, like a scene from a massacre, proceeded to pump paint over two dozen departing partygoers. Mary remembered the pleas of the parent of Paintballing Patrick, who swore they thought the paint was washable and had no idea that her little darling would use the gift he’d brought for Declan.
Mary’s hangover was pounding, and as she sipped her coffee, she winced and thought of the horror on the faces of parents arriving to pick up their offspring. Clutching party bags and riding sugar-fuelled highs, little feet hardly touching the ground, the mini-ghouls and monsters squealed as they dodged Patrick’s parting shot and ran outof the house. She wondered how soon it would be before the bills for dry cleaning arrived. The house phone beeped with messages from horrified parents complaining about the liqueur chocolates in the party bags, and Mary cursed Caitlin for grabbing the first items that came to hand in the larder.
‘Oh, sod it,’ Mary muttered as she looked around at sticky surfaces and a crumb-filled floor. Having risen early to deal with most of the mess, Mary decided that Roisin could deal with it. She wandered over to the window and felt glad that she’d booked the Environmental Services Provider for that day.
Gazing out at her garden, where rain lashed, Mary felt as battered as the bushes and trees that swayed in an unrelenting southwest wind whipping over the headland from the Atlantic. More pressing problems than cleaning weighed her down, and these concerned Conor and Ruari.
The party had begun well, and the children enjoyed the food Mary had painstakingly prepared. Una turned up halfway through, breathless and full of apologies. She was dressed as a leprechaun in a glittery green outfit, carrying a massive bag containing enough sugary snacks to fuel a classroom riot.
‘Do you still think Conor is having an affair with Lucinda?’ Una asked as she lobbed sweets into the air like a chaotic piñata.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Mary hissed, glancing nervously at the children swarming around Una like seagulls after a chip.
‘Ah, Mary, you’ve nothing to worryabout. Conor is a family man,’ Una said. ‘You think you have problems? Last week, I found a pair of knickers in Jimmy’s coat pocket, but did I panic?’ Una shook her head.
Mary clutched her chest. ‘Oh, God, Una, what did you do?’
‘I put them in my own coat pocket,’ Una smirked, ‘and am waiting to see if the eejit has the nerve to ask for them back…’
Settling in a circle surrounding Witchery Wanda, the children’s eyes were wide as she performed a magic show, casting playful spells and performing tricks. They listened carefully to tales of friendly ghosts and haunted houses, before eagerly taking part in the Monster Freeze dance, standing like statues and prancing like monsters.
But it was the Halloween Twister where trouble began.
Declan insisted that the grown-ups play the game, and as the birthday boy for the day, Mary could hardly refuse her youngest. Una had refused to get involved and went into the garden for a smoke and the only other grown-up in the room was Ruari, who was keen to participate. As children spun the dial, calling out colours and body part combinations, Mary and Ruari stretched and contorted to reach the circles without falling over. Boundaries blurred as they navigated the slippery mat, and soon, they tumbled in a giggling tangle when Mary fell flat on her back, and Ruari landed on top of her.
It was at this moment that Conor arrived home.
Mary remembered moving Ruari’s soft, curling locks from her face to see who was towering over them. Her dresshad ridden up her thighs, where Ruari had fallen between them.
‘What on earth?’ Conor hissed as the two quickly parted. His eyes were stormy, and his face flushed. ‘This is a children’s game,’ he added.
‘Keep your cool,’ Ruari said as he eased to his feet, straightened his jacket, and reached out to help Mary. ‘The kids suggested it, and they’ve had a lot of fun.’
