Page 92 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
Mary shook her head. She couldn’t believe Mungo’s naivety and wondered how Atticus would feel to be described as a doddering old man. Pinching her lips together, she decided to calm things down.
‘I’ll speak to Dad,’ Mary began. ‘Let me discuss the will and ensure he is clear in everything he does.’
‘At least he might answer his phone to you,’ Mungo grumbled, and Mary thought he sounded like a petulant child.
‘Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve spoken,’ Mary said. ‘How’s business, you must be run off your feet with the Christmas trade?’
‘It’s hectic; the locals are stocking up on last-minute purchases. But I think it will drop off tomorrow, and we’ll close on Christmas Eve.’
‘Good, then you’ll have some time to spend with your family. I hope you’re taking a decent break.’
‘Yes, we don’t open again till the NewYear.’
‘Perfect, and I hope Santa will put something lovely in your stocking, too.’
As Mary ended the call, she hoped that Mungo would relax. Her brother was tired, and he needed time off to be with his family and allow the tradition of Christmas to restore his energy.
She sighed, suddenly feeling tired, too. Reaching for her coffee, Mary took a long drink. The caffeine, like a bolt, cleared her fog, and she turned to her laptop to open her emails.
‘It’s you and me against the to-do list,’ she muttered as she clicked on her printer. ‘Let’s make like Santa and get this sleigh on the road…’
The snug at The Black Bull was packed, and Arthur kept his elbows close to his sides as he sat in his corner, sipping a pint of ale. The air was thick with the scent of mulled wine, and patrons, bundled in festive sweaters, filled every nook and cranny. Arthur tutted as he stood to replenish his drink.
‘I can hardly hear myself think in here today,’ Arthur complained to Reg, who wore a Santa hat and moved deftly behind the bar.
‘Be with you in a mo.’ Reg was cheerful as he ladled mulled wine into glasses and poured steaming mugs of spiced cider.
‘You should have an area reserved for your regulars,’ Arthur chuntered as he watched Reg grasp the woodenhandle of a beer tap and pull it skilfully towards him. The beer flowed into the glass with a frothy flourish, leaving a creamy head.
‘Where’s your Christmas cheer?’ Reg grinned. ‘You should enjoy the company, especially with your mate being so far away.’ He handed the freshly poured pint to Arthur.
Arthur sighed as he returned to his seat. His Christmas cheer was currently taking a break, and it wouldn’t return until Shirley’s numerous friends and relatives had packed up and returned to their respective homes. Shirlarth Cottage had become a seasonal sanctuary for numerous waifs and strays and Arthur envisioned his Yuletide days being spent in his shed, when he wasn’t busy washing dishes at the Christmas castaway camp.
‘Uncle Arthur!’ a voice called out.
Arthur looked up and was delighted to see Jake burst into the snug.
‘Hey up.’ Arthur smiled. ‘This is a grand surprise. Now that you’ve finished school, I thought you’d be working at the farm.’
Jake pulled up a chair and squeezed in beside Arthur at his table.
‘No, the caravan site is closed now till the new year,’ Jake explained, ‘and there’s nothing for me to do in the shop.’
‘Time on your hands, how lovely.’ Arthur nodded. ‘Have you heard from your Grandad?’
‘Nope – he’s goneoff grid.’
‘Eh?’
‘SMS.’
‘Ah.’ Arthur nodded, clueless.
‘Social Media Silence,’ Jake explained. ‘But it doesn’t matter because I think I know how we can speak to him very soon.’
‘It would be good to give him a Christmas surprise,’ Arthur agreed. ‘Shall we do that face thingy or hype?’
‘FaceTime or Skype,’ Jake corrected and scratched the back of his neck. ‘No, listen.’ He reached into his rucksack for his laptop and then placed it on the table. ‘I’ve had an idea.’
