Page 40 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure

Chapter Thirty-One

I t was a busy Saturday lunchtime in The Black Bull, and Reg was run off his feet.

A roaring fire crackled in the stone fireplace, and the scent of mulled wine, spiced with cinnamon and cloves, mingled with the hearty aroma of the tasty daily specials chalked up on the blackboard, which were selling fast. With only three weeks until Christmas, locals and visitors to the caravan site at Barn Hill Farm appeared to be celebrating early.

Festive décor made the pub cosy, with twinkling fairy lights draped across the beams and garlands of holly and ivy adorning the walls.

A Christmas tree stood in one corner, covered with shiny baubles.

In the backroom snug, Arthur sat with Jake. Dressed in a warm woollen sweater featuring a gnome-like snowman embroidered on the front, Arthur supped on a pint of real ale.

‘I like your Christmas jumper, Uncle Arthur,’ Jake said, sipping a Coke .

‘Shirley knitted it and insists I wear it throughout December,’ Arthur scowled. ‘I feel a bit of a tit, to be honest.’

‘Do you think Grandad will be celebrating Christmas in Spain?’

‘Aye, there’s no reason for him not to. But it might be different there.’

‘I wish we could go to Spain to see him.’

‘I have to agree that Christmas in the sun is appealing,’ Arthur said and grimaced at the thought of another year of Shirley, sherry, and a tin of Quality Street while glued to the Royal speech.

‘Do you think Grandad will be having a party?’

‘By the look of his posts today, I would say that’s a certainty.’

Arthur leaned over to study Jake’s phone. The Travelling Grandad’s Instagram page displayed a video of jolly, ukulele-playing pensioners dancing in a conga line around Winnie and in and out of the awning.

‘I like the photos of the island he went to.’ Jake thrust his hand into a bag of crisps and began to chomp his way through them. ‘He’s explained that pirates used to live there.’

Arthur stared at the multiple images of Tabarca, which looked like a beautiful place.

He had to admit that the photos of Britta in a colourful cotton dress and floaty straw hat – wandering along the beach and sketching in a churchyard – were captivating.

Atticus had an eye for creating balance and guiding followers toward a focal point.

He chose unusual angles for buildings and viewpoints, capturing moments to tell a story and evoke curiosity.

No wonder his followers increased daily.

‘Is your dad still angry with him?’ Arthur asked.

‘Dad moans about everything these days. He thinks Grandad is making a fool of himself and that his head’s been turned by a younger woman.’ Jake licked cheese and onion flavour from his lips and opened a bag of knobbly, chilli-tasting nuts. ‘He reckons she’s only with Grandad for his money.’

Arthur grinned. He reckoned that spending time with Britta would be well worth parting with his pension and envied his friend. ‘Is it busy at the farm?’ he asked, fiddling with a beer mat on the polished wooden table.

‘Crazy busy. Dad has taken on more staff, but he says that when I’ve finished my schoolwork, I’ve got to help in the shop on the weekends leading up to Christmas. That’s in addition to maintaining the caravan site.’

‘The money will come in handy, surely?’

‘True.’ Jake nodded.

‘Well, before you get stuck into selling soda bread and Cumbrian fancies all afternoon, you can give me a hand with the gnomes.’

‘What needs doing?’

‘Your Aunty Shirley likes a display up the driveway with flashing fairy lights.’ Arthur raised his glass and drained his pint. ‘So, if you’ve finished your knobbly nuts, we should get going.’

‘I bet they don’t have gnomes in Spain,’ Jake grumbled as he reluctantly followed Arthur from the pub and tightened the toggles on his duffle coat against the bitter wind.

‘Not like Cumbria, eh?’ Arthur tucked his scarf into his snowman jumper, adjusted his bob hat and reached for his coat. ‘It’ll be Gnome-Sweet-Gnome at Shirlarth Cottage this Christmas,’ he sighed.

In Kindale, Mary was feeling energised and had been busy putting her new plan into action over the past few days.

Christmas events at the children’s various schools took up much of her time, and when she wasn’t sorting through new paperwork, she made a shepherd’s outfit for Declan’s nativity and turned Finn into an elf for his school play.

Mary kept her eye on Maeve and Caitlin, who, when not doing homework, were occupied with youth club events and the upcoming Christmas disco.

Maeve’s plant-based diet appeared to have gone out of the window along with a boy she’d been hankering after.

‘He’s a knob,’ she told her mother as she sat in the kitchen, eating a thick, juicy beef burger and staring at her Instagram account. ‘I never really liked him, and now he’s on Caitlin’s allotment committee, bossing me about.’

Mary imagined Maeve helping out in the cold at the allotment, having a tantrum over frozen winter turnips or crying into frosty cabbages. She decided that Maeve was better off in the warmth of the cosy youth club.

‘Grandad’s having a blast,’ Maeve said as she finished her burger and scrolled through images of The Travelling Grandad. ‘It’s one long party at his pitch in Spain.’

‘Has he still got lots of followers?’ Mary asked.

‘Zillions,’ Maeve muttered and closed her phone.

Meanwhile, Finn and Declan were fighting as they ate their tea. They were squabbling over the last hot dog, while Caitlin, preoccupied, dipped a fry into ketchup.

‘Come on, go and do your homework, and Declan, it’s bath time,’ Mary said as she cleared the table, and the kids began to disperse.

Caitlin pushed her plate to one side and turned to look at her mother. ‘Mam,’ she said, ‘can I have a word?’

‘Yes, love, what is it?’ Mary asked as she stacked the dishwasher. Turning to face Caitlin, she had an inkling of what was coming.

Caitlin looked around. Seeing that the coast was clear and that her siblings were out of earshot, she said, ‘There’s a rumour at school that you and Dad are splitting up.’

Mary took a deep breath to steady herself, then pulled out a stool and sat beside Caitlin. She reached for her eldest daughter’s hand. ‘What are they saying?’ she asked.

‘That Dad is hooking up with Lucinda Darby, and you’ll get a divorce.’

Caitlin’s voice was shaky, and Mary could see that she was biting her lip.

‘Is it true?’ Caitlin asked.

Mary sighed. Trying to assure Caitlin that all was well seemed pointless.

Telling her that Dad just needed a bit of time out while he sorted through his work problems wouldn’t wash with her eldest child.

The real problem was the state of their marriage, and Caitlin was astute enough to know that something was wrong and things amiss – parents in separate bedrooms, tiptoeing around each other.

‘Your dad is going through a difficult time,’ Mary began. She gently rubbed Caitlin’s hand with her thumb, hoping to comfort her. ‘He’s not sure what he wants at the moment, so I’m giving him a bit of space.’

‘You mean like he’s having a mid-life crisis?’

Mary searched Caitlin’s anxious eyes. Her brain was racing, searching for ways to soften the blow that Conor was a selfish, arrogant, greedy rat who seemed to have forgotten his vows and respect for his family.

‘I guess you could call it that.’ Mary smiled. ‘He’s just a bit confused and needs some time to think about his life, the business, and what he ultimately wants.’

‘Is he having an affair with Lucinda Darby?’

Mary stared at her daughter and felt guilty.

She was angry with Conor for his betrayal and for putting her in this position.

She knew Caitlin would be torn with love for both parents and unsure of where her loyalties should lie.

Mary was filled with a desire to protect the children but knew that she had to explain the situation to Caitlin in a way that was as gentle and age appropriate as possible.

‘Truthfully, yes, I think he is spending time with Lucinda,’ Mary said.

‘But what about us?’ Caitlin’s face crumpled. ‘Does it mean he doesn’t love us anymore?’

Tears were in her eyes, and Mary reached out to wrap her daughter in her arms.

‘Oh, my darling, of course not,’ she said, kissing the top of Caitlin’s head and gently stroking her hair. ‘Your daddy loves you all, and he always will – even if he decides that he might not live with us all the time.’

Caitlin sniffed. ‘He’s horrible, and not good enough for you!’ She suddenly sat upright and pushed back on her stool.

‘Sweetheart, I understand that you are angry. It’s perfectly acceptable for you to feel that way if things at home are changing.’

As she held onto Caitlin’s hands, Mary remembered Ruari’s words: the kids would be better off with one happy parent than two who didn’t like each other.

‘If Dad and I decide to live separately, you will have two great homes to grow up in,’ Mary said. ‘You and your sister and brothers will always be our priority.’

‘It’s okay, I get it.’ Caitlin shrugged. ‘Aisling Bryne’s parent split up last year, and she told me all about it.’

‘Is she alright?’ Mary’s voice was soft.

‘Yeah, she’s spoiled rotten now. She says they overcompensate, but she loves it. If this is best for both of you, we’ll figure out how to adjust.’

‘You’re being very grown up, and that means a lot to me,’ Mary said. But as she spoke, she noticed that Caitlin suddenly looked down and a child-like pout had appeared.

‘Has Lucinda got a swimming pool?’ Caitlin asked.

‘Indoor and out… and tennis courts,’ Mary added.

‘She’s still a stick-thin witch.’ Caitlin raised her head.

‘I can’t deny that.’ Mary shrugged, deciding she’d gone over the top by turning Conor into a saint for his kids. However, there was no reason to protect the evil Lucinda.

‘Dad must be crazy. You’re beautiful.’ Caitlin threw herself into Mary’s arms.

Mary returned the hug and remembered Ruari telling her she was beautiful, too.

‘I want you to be brave,’ Mary said, taking hold of Caitlin’s shoulders and looking her in the eye. ‘Things might not be easy, but we will get through this, and everything will be fine.’

Caitlin nodded, reaching for her discarded plate. ‘I just want you to be happy, even if that means not being together.’ She picked up a cold French fry and began to nibble. ‘Can I go watch a movie now?’ she asked.

‘Of course, you can,’ Mary nodded. ‘I love you, Caitlin Murphy.’

‘And I love you too.’ Caitlin kissed Mary on the cheek, then slipped off her stool and hurried out of the kitchen.

As Mary watched Caitlin go, she prayed they would get through the mess Conor had created and the kids would come out unscathed.

But divorce was never easy and could scar young hearts for life.

Now, knowing that the inevitable would happen, Mary vowed to do everything in her power to keep things as painless as possible for her children.

She was sure of one thing. There was no going back.

Ruari was right, and she knew she’d never be able to trust Conor again.

If they stayed together, she would come to hate him for the harm he’d done.

Apart, they might eventually end up as friends.

Falling in love with someone else was one thing, but being so deceitful in trying to manipulate his way into the sale of houses on Cillian McCarthy’s land and getting his hands on Creek House was another.

After all these years, Mary felt as though she didn’t know her husband.

Picking up Caitlin’s empty plate and returning it to the dishwasher, Mary added a tablet and pressed a switch.

As the machine began to hiss and gurgle, she pushed up her sleeves and methodically cleaned the kitchen.

Wiping down the surfaces, she thought about Ruari.

She could almost taste him on her lips and feel his arms around her.

Their kiss on the beach had been emotionally and physically uplifting, and Mary had suddenly felt sure of herself.

As Ruari kept telling her, she felt beautiful too.

To hell with Conor and his cruel comments about her weight.

So, what if she was a size sixteen and her jeans were a little tight?

She remembered a mantra she’d read in a Facebook post: ‘Beauty in all forms dulls in a cowering wreck but shines in one who has confidence.’

And what to do about Ruari? Mary paused.

Was she to leave it on the beach, a stolen kiss that might not be repeated?

He’d called several times to check in on her, and yesterday, when she’d gone to pick up the kids from school, she’d found a gorgeous bouquet of flowers on the front doorstep.

The card read, ‘ Hang on in there, Beautiful, you’ve got this x . ’

But as she flicked her cloth for the final shine, Mary smiled and knew there would be plenty of time to think of Ruari in the coming weeks. There was no rush.

Mary thought of her plan and smiled.

It had begun a few days earlier with a phone call, followed by a meeting, and after a visit to a solicitor’s office, several hours on the internet.

She stood back to study a sparkling kitchen that even Roisin would be proud of and wondered what Conor was anticipating for Christmas that year.

As she headed to the playroom to tear Declan away from Peppa Pig and take him upstairs for his bath, Mary knew that Conor’s Christmas gift would contain a surprise he wasn’t expecting.