Page 18 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure

Chapter Fifteen

W hen Atticus felt the Fiat’s motion slow and realised that they must be close to the market, he opened his eyes.

Sure enough, Ruby was slotting neatly into a parking space, and as she cut the engine, Cheryl clambered out and held the door.

Relieved to be in one piece and not splattered over a verge, Atticus forced a smile and gave a nod of thanks as Ness hopped out ahead of him.

‘Our first stop is for a drink and a bite to eat,’ Cheryl said as they set off.

Atticus walked with Ness, and Ruby and Cheryl held hands as they negotiated a narrow path crossing a tree-lined park.

As they reached the market, he could hear people laughing and chatting, and his eyes widened at the sight of hundreds of stalls coming alive with the hustle and bustle of vendors and visitors vying for bargains.

Atticus felt a sense of excitement and wondered what lay ahead.

‘This beats Kendal market on a wet and windy Saturday,’ he said as he was met by a kaleidoscope of colour and aromas.

In the brilliant sunshine, the market was a hive of activity, with shoppers weaving their way through the narrow aisles.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of ripe fruits and the pungent aroma of spices, and Atticus took photographs as people of all nationalities inspected goods and haggled with vendors, filling their bags with fresh produce.

He’d never seen anything like it.

Goods of every description were displayed.

Clothing hung on hangers or was piled on tables alongside electrical goods, handcrafted pottery, jewellery, and artwork.

Snippets of conversation in Spanish, French, German, and Dutch fascinated Atticus as everyone shared the communal experience of shopping outdoors.

Open-air cafés were crowded, and delicious smells filled the air.

Stalls selling local cheese and cured meats were bustling as vendors called out prices and enticed passers-by with samples.

‘This way,’ Cheryl said, taking his arm. She led Atticus through the crowds to a quieter corner, where a path was lined with vibrant flowers and the sound of music filled the air. ‘We like it here at La Tasca,’ she said, guiding him to the bar.

Atticus looked at tables and chairs positioned under the shade of overhanging trees in a small square and noted a group of musicians gathered nearby.

Ruby commandeered three seats, and as Atticus sat down, she picked up a menu and asked, ‘Are you hungry? We normally have tapas at this time of day. ’

‘I’ll have whatever you are having,’ Atticus replied. ‘This is on me,’ he added as Cheryl and Ruby studied the menu, deciding what to eat.

Ruby disappeared to the bar to order their food and Atticus turned to Cheryl.

‘We didn’t get a chance to chat about you last night,’ he said.

‘Will you tell me what brought you and Ruby to Spain?’ He removed his hat and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hot brow as Ness placed her head on his knee.

‘I used to have a place out here,’ Cheryl began, ‘in the days when I was married.’ She looked thoughtful.

‘My old man and I ran a bar in Quesada, on the main street. It was busy, and I worked my backside off, beginning with breakfasts for the expats in the morning, right through to bingo and karaoke at night.’ She paused, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

‘That sounds like hard work.’ Atticus frowned.

‘It was backbreaking, to be honest,’ Cheryl sighed. ‘But we made decent money and sensibly bought a property, then applied for Spanish citizenship.’

‘But things didn’t work out with your husband?’

‘Nope, there were too many sweeties in the sweetie shop for my Steve.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Don’t waste your tears.’ Cheryl smiled. ‘By then, Ruby had come to work for us and was a dab hand at the stove. I loved the fact that she made my life so much easier.’

‘And would I be right in thinking that you came to love Ruby too?’

‘Got it in one, Cowboy,’ Cheryl smiled. ‘Ruby was travelling around, trying to find herself. She’d just come out, so to speak, and we hit it off from the moment we met.’

Atticus chuckled. ‘Sounds like quite the adventure.’

‘Oh, it was,’ Cheryl agreed, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. ‘We’ve been on quite a journey together, Ruby and I.’

‘What happened to the bar?’

‘Steve’s still running it. He paid me off and shacked up with one of the waitresses.’

Atticus laughed. He looked at Cheryl and decided he’d never met anyone like her.

In her sixties, she was a woman with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye.

Wearing white shorts and a halter top to show off her nut-brown tan covering her ample body, Cheryl was larger than life and as open as any book he’d ever read.

Atticus instinctively knew she was a woman with a heart of gold.

‘We spend some of the year back home at Ruby’s house in Halifax,’ Cheryl said.

‘Ruby was a mental health nurse, but we’re both retired now, and we fill our days doing voluntary work at the local hospice and helping to run their charity shop.

’ She dug a folding fan out of her bag and began to wave it in front of her face.

‘It’s heating up,’ she said, then continued, ‘When we’re here, we both put a shift in at Steve’s bar if he’s short of staff. ’

‘And you stay in a chalet at Solma Vacaciones?’

‘Yes, the management let us have a long-term let. Honestly, the site has everything we could want.’

‘Aye, I can see that.’ Atticus thought of all the amenities he’d been shown earlier.

‘It’s close to the beach and the town of Guardamar. We must take you there; you’ll enjoy it.’

‘I’d like that.’ Atticus nodded, his heart warmed by Cheryl’s thoughtfulness. ‘I’m so pleased that I met you, Cheryl. You’ve been very kind to me.’

‘Ah, getaway with you.’ Cheryl patted his arm. ‘I expect you’ve got a story to tell too?’

‘Not really,’ Atticus said. ‘My life has been very simple. I ran a sheep farm in Cumbria and was married to my Clara for a very long time.’ He paused and eased the heavy fabric of his shirt away from his perspiring skin.

‘Part of this trip is to honour Clara. We’d planned a lavish Spanish holiday to celebrate our special wedding anniversary. ’

Cheryl nodded. ‘But she passed before you could make the trip together.’

‘Yes,’ Atticus said, his voice tinged with sorrow. ‘But I brought a part of her with me.’ He turned to Cheryl with a small smile. ‘She’s in a box, in the front compartment of Winnie.’

Cheryl’s face lit up, and she clapped her hands. ‘How wonderful! Then you must have a lovely celebration and scatter her ashes in the sea – the same waters you both would have swum in.’

‘That’s exactly what I’ll do.’ Atticus nodded. ‘When she died a few years ago, I was heartbroken. I’m afraid I let things slip at the farm until my son, Mungo, stepped in.’

‘Your son kept the business going?’ Cheryl leaned forward, her head tilted to one side.

‘Well, he completely transformed it and it’s now a fancy farm shop, café, and caravan site. ’

‘It sounds successful?’

‘It is, but I haven’t a clue about my son’s newfangled ideas, and I’m afraid I became a bit of a hermit until I recently discovered Winnie in an old barn. My grandson helped me get her back on the road.’

‘Mungo doesn’t approve?’

‘Nope, he thinks I’m off my rocker.’

‘A few cards short of a full deck?’

Atticus laughed. ‘A few screws loose too, I think.’

‘But you’re enjoying your trip, aren’t you?’ Cheryl squinted in the sunshine as she studied Atticus’s face.

‘I’m having a great time. The journey was a joy, and meeting you and Ruby has been the icing on my cake.’

‘Well, don’t listen to Mungo for now.’ Cheryl gripped his hand. ‘You enjoy every minute and don’t let anyone tell you what they think you should do.’

‘Thank you,’ Atticus said and smiled at Cheryl as he returned her grip.

Wiping his brow again, he wished he’d worn something cooler.

He hadn’t bargained for such warm weather at this time of year.

Feeling hot and sticky, Atticus rolled up the sleeves of his heavy cotton shirt and felt the dampness on his skin as perspiration accumulated.

Even his moleskin trousers clung to his legs.

Ruby returned with a bowl of water for Ness and patted the dog as she greedily began to drink. Taking a seat, Ruby looked at Atticus. ‘You look uncomfortable,’ she said. ‘While we’re at the market, it might be a good idea if you got kitted out with some lighter-weight clothes.’

‘That’s a great idea!’ Cheryl clapped. ‘We know just the right vendors to go to, eh, Ruby?’

‘Yep, just call us “Bargain Brits Abroad” when you want the best deal,’ Ruby grinned and reached out to stroke Cheryl’s face. In return, Cheryl leaned forward and kissed her.

Atticus was caught off guard. He’d never witnessed affection so openly displayed between two women who were clearly loving partners.

It didn’t shock him, quite the opposite, in fact.

He felt a warm glow. Love for another was a splendid thing, and his own life felt empty without it.

Watching Cheryl and Ruby seemed to highlight his own loneliness.

A waitress arrived with a jug of sangria, which Ruby poured. Dishes of tapas followed, and soon, the table was covered with tasty treats.

‘Photo opportunity!’ Cheryl held out her phone and began to snap.

‘Cheers,’ Ruby said, holding her glass to toast Atticus. ‘Here’s to making a new friend.’

They chinked glasses and Atticus swallowed. ‘I think sangria is going to be my new friend, too.’

As the musicians played, Atticus sampled the delights of tapas. He tasted his first mouthful of garlic shrimp, seasoned with chilli, and dipped crusty bread into warm olive oil. Splitting the bread, he passed a chunk to Ness.

‘Try this,’ Ruby urged, forking thinly sliced ham onto his plate. ‘It’s made from acorn-fed Iberian pigs, which are prized for their rich flavour.’