Page 6 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘Mary has landed, eh?’ Arthur asked.
Atticus licked the salt from his lips and rubbed his hands along the rough fabric of his moleskin trousers. ‘Just arrived, and Jake is driving around the yard like Lewis Hamilton.’
‘No wonder you needed a pint.’ Arthur nodded.
The snug, with its small windows and worn wooden benches, was dimly lit and offered the perfect retreat from the noisy chatter in the main bar. Here, Atticus and Arthur played dominoes every week, representing the pub in the local league.
Arthur leaned back and cradled his pint. The owner of a nearby smallholding, Arthur’s weathered face was etched with lines of experience, and his eyes sparkled with memories. The air was thick with camaraderie, born of years spent together in this very spot.
When Clara was alive, Arthur and his wife, Shirley, joined the couple for quiz nights. Now, as the two men raised their glasses in a silent toast, they were simply two old friends enjoying each other’s company in their favouritehaunt.
‘Shirley says she’ll be over to see Mary,’ Arthur commented.
‘That’ll be grand.’ Atticus reached into his pocket for a treat for Ness and rubbed her head as she ate it.
‘Will Mary be expecting you to spend time with the grandkids?’ Arthur asked.
‘Aye, like every year.’
‘They’re a bit too lively for the likes of us, if I remember them all correctly,’ Arthur replied.
‘Kids today want entertaining,’ Atticus grumbled. ‘Mary is constantly on the go, finding things for them to do.’
‘Not like our day, eh?’ Arthur nodded. ‘The fells were our playground when we weren’t helping out on the farm.’
‘It’s true.’ Atticus thought of the hours he roamed over the hills with Arthur, building dens in ditches. ‘Another pint?’
Suddenly, the door to the snug flew open, and Mary burst in. ‘I thought you’d be in here,’ she said, giving Atticus a hug.
‘Hello, Mary love.’ Atticus smiled and reached out to wrap an arm around his daughter. Stroking the soft skin of her face, he felt his heart tug. She was so like her mother, beautiful in every way.
Seeing tears in the corner of her dad’s eyes, Mary patted his arm. ‘Don’t waste a stand-up,’ she said, swinging a leather tote from her shoulder. ‘I’ll have a white wine, please Dad.’ She turned and grinned at Arthur, then pecked him on the cheek. ‘What are you two up to? Putting the world to rights over a pint?’
‘It’s good to see you, Mary.’ Arthur smiled. ‘And you’re looking well. Must be all that fresh Irish air.’
‘And rich country living,’ Atticus added as he placed the drinks down. ‘Is Conor still making millions?’
‘Probably as many as Mungo.’ Mary picked up her glass. ‘Cheers to you both, it’s good to be here.’ She grinned, before taking a slug of her wine. ‘Now, Dad, tell me all the news from the village and Barn Hill Farm.’
After another round and bidding goodbye to Arthur, Mary took Atticus’s arm. Reg, the landlord, said it was good to see Mary again and hoped she’d be a regular during her holiday. Several locals acknowledged father and daughter arm-in-arm, and Atticus replied with a grunt as he tipped his hat.
‘Still as unsociable as ever,’ Mary said as they crossed the road. ‘Do you never stop to have a chat?’
‘I’ve nothing to talk about.’
‘Dad, you’ve a zillion things that you could pass the time of day with,’ Mary sighed. ‘When Mum was alive, she couldn’t shut you up.’
It was true. Atticus had loved keeping up to date with life in the locality. He knew every farmer for miles around, and together with Clara, they’d had a pleasant life in the community.
‘Why don’t you join in with village events anymore?’ Mary asked as they walked along the path to thefarm.
‘It’s not the same without your mum, I’m no more than a spare part. No one wants an old man getting in the way.’
Mary sighed.What had happened to the funny, happy dad she’d grown up with?
‘You’re not old,’ she said firmly. ‘Seventy is nothing these days, and you’re still as fit as a fiddle and as handsome as a prince.’
It was true. Despite his sadness, her dad was still the good-looking man he’d always been. His thick black hair, greying at the sides, and dark amber eyes, softened by time, still gleamed. Lines around his eyes told a story of resilience, and he had a rugged attractiveness. Tall, fit, and energetic, Atticus carried himself with an easy grace.
