Page 24 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure
‘To be honest, I’m staggered that I asked, and even more staggered that she agreed.’ Atticus shrugged. He wondered if he should confide that Clara had spurred him on, but his friends might think he was going doolally. ‘But now I haven’t a clue where I might take her, and I hope you can help.’
‘What’s her name?’ Cheryl asked.
‘Britta. I think she may be Danish or perhaps?—’
‘—Dutch,’ Ruby and Cheryl butted in, stopping Atticus mid-sentence. They exchanged glances.
‘Do you know her?’ he asked.
‘Britta lives in one of the cottages on the beach,’ Cheryl explained. ‘Yes, we know her.’
‘She’s a very private person and keeps to herself,’ Ruby added. ‘We’ve met her when the café puts on a special event for the locals, such as Spanish music or folk festivals, which are popular here.’
‘And we’ve chatted when we’ve had meals there or stopped by for a drink,’ Cheryl said. She turned to Ruby. ‘Do you remember her birthday?’
‘Yes, the café did drinks and tapas for the staff and locals to celebrate Britta’s sixtieth,’ Ruby replied.
‘Sixty?’ Atticus raised his eyebrows. ‘She looks much younger.’
Ruby sat back, her brow furrowed, and absently ran her fingers through her cropped hair while Cheryl pressed her lips together in a thoughtful line.
Minutes ticked by and Atticus wondered what they were both thinking. Had he done wrong in their eyes? Was dating at his age a crime? Perhaps they thought he was punching above his weight.
‘You think I’ve been foolish,’ Atticus said. ‘I hope I haven’t annoyed you.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ Cheryl leapt up, and Atticus suddenly found himself engulfed by a hot, heaving bosom. ‘A date! I think it’s bloody marvellous.’ She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.
‘Nice one.’ Ruby smiled and grabbed his hand in a finger-crunching shake.
‘We’ve never seen Britta with anyone,’ Cheryl said. ‘Not that I’m being nosy, but she doesn’t appear to have a partner or anyone close.’
‘We know of expats and locals who’ve asked her out, but she keeps to herself,’ Ruby said. ‘She likes to paint; you’ll see some of her artwork in the café.’
‘I’ve invited her to our barbecues,’ Cheryl added, ‘but she’s never come to one.’
‘Do you think a meal is too much?’ Atticus asked. ‘Perhaps I should have just asked her for a coffee or a drink.’
‘Nah, she’s a grown-up,’ Ruby said. ‘If things aren’t going well, she can easily make an excuse and walk away. A meal is good.’
When their tostadas arrived, they all took a slice of crusty baguette topped with olive oil, juicy tomatoes, garlic, and melted Manchego cheese.
As they ate, they discussed ‘The Date’.
Cheryl and Ruby debated restaurants. Given that it was a first date, they decided that casual beachside, open-air dining – and nowhere too formal – would set the tone for the couple to relax and get to know each other.
‘ Casablanca !’ Cheryl and Ruby said and high-fived.
‘It serves food all day, and the Sunday menu is good,’ Cheryl confirmed with a nod as she licked tomato from the corner of her mouth and flicked crumbs from her ample chest.
Ruby began to give Atticus directions. The restaurant was in Guardamar, a ten-minute drive away. Atticus nodded. He realised he’d have to disconnect Winnie from the electricity and water, so she was ready for the road.
As though reading his mind, Cheryl said, ‘You must take our car.’
‘Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly,’ Atticus shook his head.
‘Don’t be silly, you can’t be dismantling Winnie and have all that mither. Of course you can take the car, can’t she, Ruby?’
Ruby, her mouth full, nodded and waved her hand as though the question needed no answer.
‘You’re insured, aren’t you?’ Cheryl asked.
‘Yes,’ Atticus nodded.
‘Good, so that’s all sorted,’ Cheryl smiled. We’re going to a poolside party at the site tomorrow, with live music and karaoke. We don’t need the car.’
‘You can have a practice drive on the way back so you get used to it,’ Ruby suggested. ‘In the meantime, shall we have a drink to celebrate The Date?’
Atticus watched as a pitcher of sangria magically appeared and Ruby poured three glasses. Taking only a sip, so he wasn’t over the limit, he felt grateful to them for their kindness and laughed as they both called out, ‘Here’s to The Date!’
A little while later, Atticus eased into the driver’s seat and drove the four of them away from the market and along the main road to Guardamar. Cheryl was perched in the back, with Ness on her knee.
‘Smile!’ she called out, and using a selfie stick, began to take photos of Atticus at the wheel, with the sun shining on the sparkling sea and the Spanish coastline making a splendid backdrop. ‘Send these to the folks back home,’ she added.
Minus his hat, Atticus felt the warm wind tousle his hair and the sun caress his skin.
The nimble Fiat handled well, and he waved when he noticed passers-by smile as he zipped along.
Casablanca was an easy restaurant to find, and Ruby’s instructions were clear: keep the sea on the left, turn onto a service road, and follow it past blocks of beachside houses and apartments.
On the corner lay Casablanca, with open-air seating overlooking the sea.
‘You can park on the opposite road,’ Ruby said, and Atticus duly turned to check out the available space.
‘I like this car,’ he commented as they returned to Solma Vacaciones. ‘It’s very kind of you to let me use it.’
When they reached the site, Cheryl and Ruby said goodbye and headed off to relax at the poolside bar. As Atticus walked back to Winnie, with Ness trotting happily alongside, he thought how far away his lonely life in Cumbria now felt.
From the moment he’d found Winnie again, Atticus felt a surge of life as new plans began to take shape.
Spain had become a healing process – a place where he could leave his sadness behind and embrace a new beginning.
A heavy weight had been lifted, replaced by a feeling of rejuvenation.
Clara was still in his thoughts, but he had to accept that she had gone, and he was lucky to have had so many good years with her.
But now, that part of his life was over and there was nothing he could do about it.
Knowing that Clara would have approved, he questioned why he hadn’t embarked on this journey years ago, instead of lingering in the shadows of his past.
Atticus exchanged greetings with campers sitting outside, and as he walked by, he wondered what Britta was doing. Was she still at work, or had she gone to her cottage? Cheryl said Britta liked to paint, and he pictured her at an easel on a patio overlooking the beach.
Suddenly, Atticus began to panic. What on earth was he thinking? It was madness to consider taking a woman out for a meal at his age. He pulled out a chair and flopped down, his mind swirling with ‘What ifs’.
What if he said something foolish ?
What if Britta didn’t find him interesting ?
After all, he was just a humble sheep farmer who’d never ventured far from home. What if Casablanca was too extravagant or perhaps not extravagant enough ? The self-doubt gnawed at him, making him feel unsure.
The doubts continued as he sat in the sun, and Ness sheltered under his chair. His palms felt clammy, and Atticus was restless as he realised, he didn’t even have her number to take the coward’s way out and text to cancel their meeting.
‘I must keep busy,’ he resolved, determined to push his doubts aside. ‘If I stop thinking about her, it will be alright.’ He took his phone from his pocket, downloaded Cheryl’s photos, and uploaded them to his Instagram account. ‘A few more shots for Jake and Arthur,’ he muttered.
He read a text from Mary and smiled, pleased that she approved, as he knew she would. Reaching down to stroke Ness, Atticus remembered that he’d intended to hire a bike. Two-wheeled transport would enable him to get about without Winnie whenever needed.
‘We’ll wander up to the bike shop,’ he told Ness, who began to thump her tail, sensing a walk. As they set off, Atticus couldn’t help but think of Britta again. ‘It’s just a date,’ he muttered to Ness. ‘Nothing more than two people sharing conversation and a meal.’
But to Atticus, in that moment, it felt like the world’s most daunting challenge.