Page 41 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure

Chapter Thirty-Two

O n the Autopista del Mediterráneo, Winnie chugged along at a steady pace.

With Atticus at the wheel and Britta sitting alongside him, Cheryl and Ruby sat comfortably in the back of the camper.

The previous few days had been busy for Atticus.

Having set out to solve Britta’s problems, he’d decided they should celebrate with a few nights away.

He remembered meeting Martin on the ferry to Spain, who’d insisted that Atticus visit Benidorm and include a visit to the Starlight Show Bar .

Cheryl and Ruby jumped at the opportunity to join the trip to Spain’s famous coastal resort.

‘I’m very impressed with your Bipandgo!’ Cheryl called out. ‘It’s a nice, big bip with plenty of go,’ she chuckled as the device on Winnie’s windscreen electronically lifted the toll booth barrier, and Atticus drove seamlessly through.

‘Does anyone fancy a snack?’ Ruby asked and rummaged around in a picnic bag to find neatly wrapped sandwiches that she’d prepared earlier that morning.

‘There’s coffee and cake too, and we haven’t forgotten Ness,’ Cheryl added and handed a treat to the dog, strapped in beside them.

Britta was thoughtful as she stared out at the landscape ahead, which boasted rolling hills and the distant mountains of the Sierra de Bernia.

‘It’s good to have a break before the Christmas rush; the café has been busy.

’ She sipped from a beaker of coffee. ‘Many people have arrived in La Marina for Christmas,’ she added, her thoughts straying to the café.

‘It’s going to be hectic over the holidays… ’

The day before, Britta had been decorating the café with festive decorations to welcome new arrivals – many of whom were retirees descending on the area for the Christmas break to escape the winter chills and spend a few weeks in warmer weather.

The call came while she was placing baubles on a tree and arranging a garland.

‘Britta, phone for you!’ The café manager’s voice carried over the chatter of diners.

‘A call?’ Britta hesitated. No one ever called the café for her. If Atticus needed her, he’d use her mobile. Puzzled, she wiped her hands on her apron and made her way to the office.

‘Hello?’ she said as she picked up the receiver.

Silence.

Britta listened, straining against the quiet. There was no voice, but she knew that she wasn’t alone on the line. She could hear it. Soft, steady breathing. Someone was there. Listening.

Her grip tightened. ‘ Hello ?’ she repeated, sensing the tension.

Nothing. A chill iced her bones, unsettling the warmth she felt in the café as she slowly replaced the phone.

‘Everything okay?’ The manager gave her a questioning look.

Britta forced a smile, shaking off her discomfort. ‘A wrong number,’ she’d replied. But the unease clung like a shadow, and Britta gave herself a shake. She was being ridiculous! It was obviously a misdial.

There was nothing to worry about , she’d told herself as she returned to her work.

The miles sped along as they passed vineyards that stretched endlessly and citrus orchards heavy with fruit.

Lush pine forests appeared, the greenery contrasting starkly with the bright sunny skies.

Terracotta roofs and whitewashed buildings could be seen from quaint Spanish towns in the distance, surrounded by rural agricultural land.

North of Valencia, Atticus pulled into a service station. Cheryl needed a comfort break, so Ruby took Ness for a walk. As Atticus and Britta stretched their legs and stood by Winnie in the sunshine, Britta turned to Atticus and took hold of his hands.

‘I can hardly believe what you’ve done for me,’ she said.

‘Your kindness means everything, and now I truly feel safe.’ They watched Ruby circling the area with Ness, whose nose was glued to the grass, intent on every new smell.

‘I still don’t think that the cottage should be in my name,’ Britta said.

‘It makes the paperwork easier,’ Atticus explained. ‘And I want you to feel secure and not worry about ever losing your home.’

‘But what about your children? What will they think?’

‘Leave that to me.’

‘I wish I could meet them. If they knew me, we might get to like each other, especially the grandchildren.’

‘One day, my love, you will.’

‘Please,’ Britta tried again. ‘Put the cottage in your name?’

But Atticus was firm. ‘We’ve discussed this, and you know my reasons.’ He reached out to embrace her. ‘We haven’t known each other for long, but at my age, I have to make the most of every day, and you make me so happy.’

‘Then move into the cottage with me?’

‘Would you like me to?’

‘Of course!’ Britta was emphatic. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’

‘Because I respect your freedom, your need to paint, and the fact that you may want time alone.’

‘Have I not told you that I love you? How often do you need to hear it? ’

‘As often as you want to tell me.’ He kissed her upturned face. ‘And I love you too, my darling Britta,’ he added. ‘But I may have to return to Cumbria at certain times unless the EU regulations change.’

‘Is there anything to stop me coming with you?’

‘That’s what I hoped you would say, and nothing would make me happier than to show you my Cumbrian home and for you to meet my family.’

‘Then that’s settled,’ Britta beamed. ‘We have much to look forward to.’ She wrapped her arms around Atticus, and they kissed again.

‘Oi! You two!’ a voice called out. ‘Get a room!’

Cheryl strolled towards them with takeaway bags of food, her smile wide. ‘You’re like love’s young dream, the pair of you,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Now, where’s my Ruby and that daft dog of yours? I’ve got both of their favourite treats to see us through the rest of the journey.’

Atticus stared at the mountain of food Cheryl was loading into Winnie. ‘We’ll be there in an hour or so,’ he said. ‘You’ve enough to keep us going for days.’

They all looked up as Ruby and Ness came racing around a corner.

‘Are we off?’ Ruby asked and climbed into Winnie.

‘Waggons roll!’ Cheryl said and settled her bulk beside them. ‘Next stop, the high-rise haven of the Costas!’

‘Granny’s party paradise!’ Ruby joined in.

Atticus helped Britta to her seat then checked to make sure his friends were comfortable. ‘What have you let me in for?’ he asked as he secured Winnie’s sliding door.

Cheryl and Ruby glanced at each other.

‘What happens in Benidorm, stays in Benidorm!’ Ruby called out.

Cheryl turned to Atticus, with a hint of mischief. ‘Unless you post it on Instagram…’

Jake and Arthur stood in the shed at Shirlarth Cottage and studied multiple strings of fairy lights heaped in a tangle on the bench before them.

The festive gnome display that adorned the driveway had suffered a blackout the night before when Arthur, having enjoyed too many pints at the pub, stumbled and became entangled in the wires on his way home.

‘You could have been killed,’ Jake frowned as he observed the blackened bulbs.

‘I ruddy well electrocuted myself.’ Arthur shook his head.

‘I’ve never sobered up so quickly.’ He winced as he thought of the thunderous sound of Shirley’s wellingtons as she pounded down the drive when the house was plunged into darkness and the screen of Gogglebox , her favourite TV show, went blank.

With the stark light of Shirley’s torch flashing in his face and her accusing words drumming in his ears, Arthur had spent the night in their spare bedroom with only a candle for company.

‘It’s taken me ages to fix the fuses this morning, but the electricity has been restored,’ Arthur mumbled. ‘Along with my marriage,’ he added with a sigh.

‘We’ve got our work cut out with this lot,’ Jake said, reaching for a box of spare bulbs. ‘Good job you ordered in bulk.’

‘Aye, well, Mistletoe Mike and Tinsel Tina can wait to light up the night,’ Arthur grumbled and turned to reach for the kettle. ‘I’m parched, and this cold weather is playing havoc with my arthritis. Let’s have a cuppa before we crack on and see what your grandad is up to in sunny Spain.’

Jake beamed as he watched Arthur reach for a biscuit tin, revealing a hidden stash of chocolate Hobnobs. Taking his laptop, he searched for Atticus’s Instagram page and, grabbing a biscuit, began to scroll through.

Comfortable in his rocker with a mug of builder’s tea, Arthur dunked a Hobnob and gazed at the screen.

‘By heck, he’s been on a bus to Benidorm,’ Arthur chuckled as he watched a reel of Atticus and three smiling women gripping the rail of a fast-moving coach.

They were surrounded by beach-clad holidaymakers staring out at spectacular views of the Mediterranean, where yachts and sailboats dotted the sea.

‘There are more motorised scooters than on the seafront at Morecambe,’ Arthur noted as he studied a busy Benidorm street filled with market stalls and street performers, where bar owners encouraged the crowds to sample the delights of happy hour.

‘Looks like they found a pub.’ Jake bit into his biscuit. ‘Grandad is eating fish and chips.’

‘Very nice too,’ Arthur said as he studied the way Atticus had one arm wrapped protectively around Britta.

‘Crikey, Dad will explode when he sees this.’ Jake’s eyes were wide as he scrolled through another reel of a nightclub called the Starlight Show Bar. Atticus was on stage, surrounded by glitzy drag artists and a dancing dog.

‘Ah… the queen of country,’ Arthur breathed and smiled nostalgically as he studied a look-alike Dolly Parton.

Atticus was handed a mic, and together with Dolly, they began a duet before the reel ended.

Two women appeared in another image, and as Jake flipped through, he dipped his chin to peer at Cheryl and Ruby. ‘Are they kissing?’ he asked.

‘Aye, it looks that way.’ Arthur nodded and quietly thought that Atticus was the luckiest pensioner alive.

‘It looks like they were all sleeping in Winnie,’ Jake added as he continued to scroll.

He recognised the familiar stripes of the awning but gobsmacked, he almost spat out his Hobnob as a reel began.

It showed an inflatable bed slowly deflating, and the same two hysterical women as they untangled sheets and sank to the ground.

Jake recognised Grandad’s girlfriend, Britta, who held her hand to her mouth in surprise as Ness, leaping into the lens, scrambled away from the bed.

‘Wow, they certainly know how to party…’ Jake said.

‘Looks like life is one long party on the Costas,’ Arthur commented as he drained his tea and brushed crumbs from the snowman on his Christmas jumper.

‘Shall I get started on the lights?’ Jake asked and closed his laptop.

‘Best get on with it, if we don’t want World War Three to break out at this year’s glimmering gnome-land.

’ Arthur sighed and wondered how long it would be before Shirley hammered on the door to remind him that the light would fade in an hour or two and her Gnomeville Wonderland must be illuminated in holiday cheer.

Arthur pulled his bob hat over his thinning hair and eased out of his chair.

He wondered what Atticus was doing and knew that his friend was no doubt basking in the heat, perhaps on the beach with a bikini-clad Britta sunbathing beside him.

He joined Jake at the bench and began to untangle lengths of wire and tease tiny bulbs out of lights that should have been permanently put out to pasture years ago.

Arthur’s sigh was heavy as he thought of Atticus and the lifestyle he was enjoying.

If only Arthur had the courage to follow in his friend’s footsteps.