Page 2 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
With his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his gilet, Mungo couldn’t help but wonder about his father’s solitary habits. Since his mother’s death, Atticus had withdrawn, and when Mungo had proposed leaving his job and moving his family to Barn Hill Farm, Atticus had barely reacted.
‘Whatever you think best,’ Atticus had said.
It was the same response he gave to every suggestion, even as the farm underwent sweeping changes.
Despite Mungo’s efforts, Atticus remained uninvolved.
If Mungo asked for an opinion, or even about his well-being, his father would repeat his familiar refrain: ‘Whatever you think best, and I’m fine – perfectly happy. ’
Reaching his office door, Mungo stepped into the welcoming space where sunlight streamed through the windows overlooking the café and rolling fells.
A wall of framed photos of before and after the renovations documented the farm’s transformation, while the quiet click of a keyboard filled the room, and a familiar face peeked over a computer screen.
‘Morning, Mungo,’ Ali greeted him, her eyes flicking towards the window. ‘I see your dad’s out for a walk.’ Running her fingers through a crop of blonde hair, Ali pushed back her chair and stood. ‘Coffee?’ she offered.
‘Just the job,’ Mungo replied.
Moments later Ali placed a steaming mug of frothy coffee on the desk beside him. ‘You looked worried,’ she said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Mary arrives today,’ Mungo sighed. ‘I know that as soon as she gets settled, she’ll start on about Dad’s listlessness, and how he’s not involved in the farm.’
Mary, Mungo’s twin, lived in Ireland and was coming to spend the school holidays in Cumbria with her four children, leaving her high-flying husband behind.
‘She’s worried about your dad, naturally. He’s not the same man he used to be.’
‘Aye, and twice as grumpy,’ Mungo replied with a half-smile. ‘But I’m concerned for him too, Mum’s death still lingers heavily.’
Ali perched on the edge of her desk, her tone softening. ‘ He never really got over your mam. Clara was a wonderful woman.’
‘It’s been five years, Ali.’ Mungo sipped his coffee. ‘He should have moved on by now.’
Mungo understood the grief of losing Clara; they’d all felt it deeply.
Although the passing of time had blunted the edges, the memories stayed a bittersweet comfort.
Yet Mungo struggled to accept how quickly his father had retreated, handing over the farm without protest. Mungo had been braced for a battle, but Atticus had simply stepped aside.
He was as docile as one of his beloved lambs when they moved him out of the grand house and into the small, charming cottage, which was far too cramped for Mungo’s family.
‘It’s a shame he can’t have a little job,’ Ali remarked. ‘Something to give him a sense of purpose, maybe helping with the caravans or looking after the grounds.’
Mungo nodded. ‘He says he doesn’t want to interfere.’
‘Your dad must see how successful you’ve made the place,’ Ali said, glancing at her spreadsheet of the farm’s accounts. ‘The farm shop and café are always busy, and the caravan pitches are booked months in advance.’
‘I’ve no idea if he even thinks about it,’ Mungo sighed. ‘But I know he’d be lost if I hadn’t stepped in.’
‘Couldn’t he have sold up and moved somewhere small and manageable?’ she replied.
Mungo stared at Ali in disbelief.
‘Alright,’ Ali laughed. ‘Maybe the cow will jump over the moon before your dad leaves his land.’
‘He’ll only leave in the back of a hearse and return to be scattered over the hills,’ Mungo added.
‘Don’t dwell on the past,’ Ali said with a reassuring smile. ‘Barn Hill Farm is thriving, and it’s all thanks to you. The local community is grateful for all the jobs you’ve created.’
Mungo looked at Ali and couldn’t imagine what he’d have done without her. Atticus refused to get involved in the business and the responsibility for Mungo weighed heavily.
In her fifties, Ali had retired from a successful career as a finance director at a London bank after the sudden passing of her husband, a lawyer.
Needing a complete change, she moved to Cumbria, but living on the land wasn’t the country dream Ali envisaged, and bored with gardening and coffee mornings, she’d jumped at the chance when Mungo offered her a job.
She missed the pace of business and told friends, ‘ My job keeps me young and my mind sharp .’ Relishing the opportunity to keep the farm’s finances in check, Ali ran everything smoothly.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Mary again,’ Ali said, glancing up from her computer. ‘What time does she arrive?’
‘Late afternoon.’
‘Is she driving?’ she asked.
‘Aye, she has more baggage than any airline can handle,’ Mungo replied.
‘Four kids for a month takes a lot of juggling,’ Ali said with a grin. ‘But Mary landed on her feet when she crossed the Irish Sea. ’
‘I don’t think a weekend at a gourmet food festival in Kindale was meant to include marriage, but she certainly did well,’ Mungo agreed.
He remembered how upset he’d been when his sister finished her studies in business management, went off for a girls’ weekend, and never returned.
They’d been close growing up, but once Mary left home and Mungo went off to pursue his career in computing, the pair became distant.
When Mary fell in love with her husband, Conor, at the food festival, it led to her working with him.
As their love blossomed, so did Conor’s estate agency business.
‘Good for her,’ Ali added. ‘It’s great that she returns to Cumbria each summer, so you’ll all be together.’
Mungo nodded. Ali was right. Having Mary back was good, and the kids loved having their cousins around. Mary and Helen were the best of friends, too.
If only his dad could summon the same enthusiasm when the family reunited.
Mungo spotted Atticus crossing the yard and tapped on the window, waving to get his attention. Ness wagged her tail, but Atticus stomped his boots on the cobbles, oblivious to everything around him. Pushing open the door to his cottage, he disappeared inside.
Mungo sighed, picked up a pen, and turned to Ali. ‘Before we are overwhelmed with visitors from across the sea, shall we get on with the day?’