Page 59 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘In the summer, the beach is busy, and the weather is very hot.’ Britta stared out at the coastline. ‘I like it,’ she added.
‘And the winter?’
‘The Spanish say it is cold in this area, but the temperature is perfect for me. I swim every day.’
‘Goodness, it must be warm.’
‘It can be.’
‘But you are Dutch,’ Atticus said. ‘What brought you to Spain?’
‘Are we going out to eat?’ Britta asked. ‘If so, I need to change.’
Atticus sensed that Britta had avoided his question and, hoping he hadn’t upset her, quickly said, ‘Yes, there is a restaurant in Guardamar that has been recommended, but please, there is no need to change; you look lovely.’
‘You’re kind,’ she smiled. ‘Okay, but perhaps I should find some sandals.’
Atticus helped Britta carry her easel into the lounge, and she locked the cottage.
Moments later, they were heading along the beach track that led to the main road. As they drove past, Atticus commented on the multiple motorhomes parked in the wide laybys.
‘Is it always so busy?’ he asked.
‘Yes, mostly with Germans who are touring for the winter months. It’s a well-known place, and they stay for a few days because it is free.’
‘No charge at all?’
‘What would they be paying for? There’s only a tarmac space and a nearby beach – no facilities.’
‘Why would anyone park an expensive vehicle in a layby when there are sites with facilities nearby?’
‘Not all the vehicles are expensive,’ Britta added. ‘Some are quite modest and old.’
Atticus began to chuckle. ‘Like me,’ he said. ‘I must introduce you to Winnie; she’s modest and old, too.’
Britta spun around. ‘Winnie? Your wife?’ she asked.
‘Oh, goodness, no. I’m a widower, and Winnie is my camper van. She’s an old VW Westfalia with several decades under her bonnet,’ he said.
Britta laughed. ‘Winnie sounds wonderful. I want to meet her.’
‘I hope that you will,’ Atticus said.
She wants to meet Winnie!He resisted the urge to reach out and take Britta’s hand.
Arriving in Guardamar, Atticus carefully parked where Ruby had advised, then hurried to open the passenger door. He clipped a lead on Ness’s collar and indicated that the restaurant was just over the road, by the beach. As they began to walk, Britta took his arm.
Suddenly, Atticus felt ten feet tall. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and he was out with a beautiful woman! Cumbria and the lonely fells felt a long way off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
At Casablanca, a charming server showed them to a table overlooking the beach. It was perfect, and Atticus was pleased that he’d phoned ahead and made a reservation.
‘This is lovely,’ Britta smiled as she placed a napkin on her knee and picked up a menu. ‘I might have the mussels. They’re harvested locally and should be good,’ she said as she studied the choice of seafood, salads, and pasta.
Atticus was struggling not to stare. Britta’s eyes were the most captivating shade of blue, and he almost had to pinch himself as he decided what he’d have to eat. They ordered a jug of sangria, and it arrived with a basket of oven-warm rolls, sides of aioli, and finely chopped tomatoes marinated with herbs.
‘The food is delicious,’ Atticus said as he copied Britta, spreading aioli on the bread and topping it witha spoonful of tomato. ‘What is it?’
