Page 7 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure

Chapter Six

A s July rolled into August, a month passed quickly at Barn Hill Farm, and as another warm summer evening stretched ahead, the garden at The Black Bull was full. Reg moved methodically through the maze of tables, eagle-eyed for abandoned glasses.

At a table overlooking the village green, Mungo sat with Mary.

‘I can’t believe the change in Dad,’ Mungo said. ‘It’s as though his batteries have been charged, and he’s suddenly come back to life.’

Mary reached for her wine. ‘It’s only taken five years but finding that run-down old camper seems to have reinstated his get-up-and-go.’

‘It’s hardly run-down now; he’s worked miracles with Jake. The camper is a showpiece. Have you noticed how guests at the caravan site always wander over to check it out? ’

‘Yes, visitors to the café and farm shop stop and stare, too.’ Mary smiled.

‘Your Maeve has been posting it on her Instagram account, hashtagging “#VWCamper” and “#WinnietheWestie”.’ Mungo shook his head.

The bright yellow Westfalia camper van was now a collector’s dream – a timeless icon of adventure and freedom – standing proudly in the yard.

Atticus and Jake had worked tirelessly on the engine, spending every spare moment on it.

They’d stripped it back and replaced worn parts that they’d found on the internet, after endless searches that introduced Atticus to the wonders of the World Wide Web.

The chrome shone on the bumpers and grilles, and the paintwork gleamed.

With its classic design and sturdy construction, Winnie’s smooth curves and rounded edges gave a distinctive vintage appeal.

The siblings sipped their drinks, and Mungo thought back to the day he’d wandered into the yard to find the family gathered around the camper.

Expecting the worst, Atticus had slid back the vehicle’s door. ‘ Would you take a look at that… ’ he’d said in astonishment.

They all gasped as they stared inside, where time had stood still since Winnie’s last outing. As though Clara had just stepped away after flicking a duster over the interior.

Mungo watched as Atticus reached in and, pulling back the neatly drawn curtains, revealed a spacious interior.

A sofa that converted into a bed was upholstered in fabric Mungo recognised from the couch in Atticus’s cottage, and it looked as good as new.

Two identically covered seats swung away from the dashboard, curving around a fold-down table.

Along one side, a refrigerator, sink, and stove were integrated with rich wood panelling into cupboards, providing storage for clothes and camping accessories.

Mungo stepped into the camper and flipped a hinge to create a pop-up roof. Standing upright, he opened drawers to see his mother’s neat utensils lined up in perfect rows beside carefully stored plates and mugs.

Bringing himself back to the present, Mungo drained his pint and turned to Mary. ‘I was shocked when I saw the camper, after being abandoned in the barn for decades.’

‘Me too,’ Mary agreed. ‘It was like a time-warp. Mum had sealed her memories inside, keeping them safe for the next journey.’

‘But she couldn’t have known it would stand unused for decades.’

‘I agree, but all these years later, it’s as though she’s sent Dad a message.’

Mungo nodded.

‘Have you seen the add-on awning?’ Mary asked.

‘Yes, very colourful – like a separate room. Dad found it on the internet and adapted it to fit.’

Mary shook her head. ‘I still can’t quite believe that Dad uses the internet now. Wonders never cease.’

‘I thought Jake had done all the searching, but he tells me he’s been giving Dad lessons, and he’s taken to Google like a duck to water.’

‘No surprise there. Dad is good with engineering, so why not technology?’ Mary shrugged. ‘What do you think he’ll do with Winnie?’

‘Sell it, I suppose. There’s plenty of offers,’ Mungo replied. ‘Or, because of the memories of Mum, he’ll pack it back into storage.’

‘I’ve told him he should take a holiday, head off to Wales again like we used to.’

‘That’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want him going any further at his age, especially in such an old vehicle.’

‘Come off it, Mungo, he’s hardly ancient and Dad is more than capable of fixing an engine if anything goes wrong.’

‘What if he was ill? Or if Winnie broke down in a remote spot?’

Mary shook her head. Mungo was surprisingly protective of Atticus, and now that their father had a new interest, Mungo seemed reluctant to let it play out.

‘You’re heading home in a few days,’ Mungo said. ‘We’re going to miss you all.’

‘It’s been a lovely break, but I’ve a husband who spends far too much time at the country club, and I need to get back.’ Mary finished her wine.

‘Too busy making money, you can’t deny him that.’

‘No, but he will have forgotten what we look like,’ she said, grinning. ‘And I have to get the kids ready for the new school term.’

Mary checked her watch. She’d been trying to call Conor all day, but his phone went to voicemail. He must be run off his feet , she thought, imagining the complexities of the land deal he was trying to secure.

They both looked up as they saw Reg heading towards them. ‘All done with these?’ Reg asked and removed the empty glasses.

Heading back to the farm, they fell into step. ‘Don’t worry about Dad,’ Mungo said. ‘He’ll settle back into his routine, and we’ll keep an eye on him.’

‘But I do worry. Without an interest, he might fade away.’

‘I know, but to have a life, you have to want a life,’ Mungo said, ‘and only Dad can decide how he chooses to spend his time.’

In the snug of The Black Bull, Atticus knew exactly how he’d chosen to spend his time. But as he pondered the decision with Arthur in their favourite corner, he felt certain that Mungo wasn’t going to like it.

Atticus’s hands, the nails dark with oil, were wrapped around a pint glass, and his amber eyes wide with a twinkle of mischief. ‘So, what do you think?’ he asked his friend.

Arthur, his grey hair neatly combed, removed the spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose and placed them down on a printed paper on the table. ‘I think you might have lost your marbles,’ he replied.

‘But what do you really think?’ Atticus insisted.

‘Well, you’ve definitely lost the plot, but…

if Shirley would give me leave of absence, I’d be coming with you,’ Arthur sighed.

‘The moon will turn blue before that happens,’ he added.

‘I thought you’d place Winnie back in storage and bring her out for a little holiday to Wales now and again. What’s put this idea in your head?’

‘I’ve been talking to Jake, and the lad has given me things to think about,’ Atticus began.

‘He’s opened my eyes and shown me how to use the internet and Arthur…

’ – he paused, a smile creeping across his face – ‘…it’s brilliant!

There’s an entire world out there that I’ve been too stuck in my grief to see.

Rediscovering Winnie, well, it’s like she’s shaken me awake after years of being stuck. ’

‘Your Clara would be pleased to hear you talk like this.’ Arthur nodded.

‘So, do you think it’s a good idea?’

‘I think it’s your best idea in years.’

Atticus picked up the piece of paper Jake had printed off the internet.

‘Solma Vacaciones Camping welcomes visitors all year round,’ he read aloud.

‘It says the low season is the perfect time for those of advanced years to relax and enjoy the climate, and special rates apply for motorhomes and caravans.’

‘Are you sure about camping?’ Arthur thought of the site at Barn Hill Farm that Atticus refused to have anything to do with.

‘Clara and I took Winnie away when the kids were young, and I managed then,’ Atticus reasoned.

‘But that was to Wales, and the furthest you got was Bangor.’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Now you’re proposing to set off for the Costas and drive thousands of miles in a forty-year-old camper?’

‘Aye, it’s amazing how the internet opens your mind to possibilities,’ Atticus said, taking a sip of his beer. ‘Many retired Continentals do it, and lots of Brits too.’

‘But why that site?’ Arthur asked.

‘Clara always wanted to go to Alicante and discover the Costa Blanca. We’d even planned a holiday,’ Atticus explained. ‘The site is situated in an area she wanted to visit. I thought I might scatter her ashes.’

‘So, you’re honouring her memory by making the trip?’

‘Exactly. It’s what she’d want me to do.’

Atticus thought of the hours he’d spent over the last month, silver-surfing through sites Jake had guided him to. It was as though he’d suddenly woken up and the spirit of Clara was urging him to embrace a new chapter.

‘Jake will have much to answer for when Mungo and Mary find out,’ Arthur chuckled.

‘Mary will be pleased. Its Mungo that’s the problem,’ Atticus replied with a shrug. ‘He thinks a few days in Wales is as far as I should go, and that’s probably too far for an old dodderer like me.’

‘I think I agree with Mungo, but if you’re determined to go ahead with this trip, research as much as you can with Jake.’

‘Aye, Jake’s been an inspiration.’ Atticus reached into a pocket. ‘Look, he’s even fixed me up with a mobile.’

Arthur stared at the latest version of the iPhone that Atticus held in his hand. ‘That must have cost you. Can you use it?’ he asked.

‘It cost an arm and a leg, but I like it, and Jake says you can’t travel without one. He’s shown me how to use the camera too, so I can keep a memory of where I go. Plus, he’s programmed everyone’s details into it.’

Arthur drained his glass and nodded to Reg for a refill. ‘Better add two large whiskies,’ he said, ‘I think we’re going to need them.’

He stared at Atticus, amazed by the transformation in his friend. In the last week or so, Atticus had lost his weariness and gained a zest for life.

‘It says here that the site is a ten-minute walk from the Costa Blanca seafront and a five-minute drive from the town of Guardamar,’ Atticus continued. ‘With a varied entertainment programme, a restaurant serving international food, and a café and bar beside a poolside terrace.’

‘That’s all well and good, but how will you get there?’

‘Jake and I are planning a route. I can either drive through France, cross the border into Spain, and head south along the coast, or take a ferry to Santander and drive across the country.’

‘And you’re confident Winnie will make such a long journey?’

‘Jake says I need to get international breakdown cover and European vehicle insurance in case Winnie has problems.’

‘Have you got health insurance?’

‘I need something called a EHIC health card, which I’ve applied for, and Jake reckons the Caravan and Motorhome Club will cover all the insurance for me.’

‘Have you joined?’

Atticus reached for his whisky. ‘I’m a fully paid-up member as of today,’ he grinned.

‘But what about the dog?’

The men glanced down where Ness lay sound asleep.

‘I’ll take her with me.’

‘Eh?’ Arthur’s jaw dropped open. ‘Isn’t she a bit too old for gadding about and eating foreign food?’

‘It’ll do her good. I can hardly leave her behind.’

‘Does she need a passport?’

‘Aye, we both do. It’s a right rigmarole sorting all the paperwork out, but Jake is on it.’

‘Sounds to me like Jake should be going with you.’ Arthur reached for his whisky.

‘The lad has school, and as much as he wants an adventure in Winnie, Mungo would kill me if I took Jake away.’

‘So, you are comrades in arms with your grandson?’

‘Yes, Jake is sworn to secrecy until I set off.’

‘Do you think Mungo will kick up a fuss?’

‘Aye, I do. He doesn’t think I can get to the end of the road on my own anymore, let alone set off on a long journey.’

‘Then all Jake’s hard work is a fait accompli.’

‘Aye, something like that, but the lad’s no fool. I’m making his time financially worthwhile and have promised him the Little Grey Fergie when I’ve passed over.’

‘But can you afford all this?’ Arthur asked.

‘Have you forgotten about that patch of land I sold?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Arthur nodded. He remembered that when Mungo had taken over the farm, he’d suggested that Atticus keep hold of three acres of land running parallel to the road on the edge of the village.

‘I got far more for it than I ever could have dreamt.’

‘There are four luxury houses on it now,’ Arthur said. ‘Eden is a desirable village.’

‘It gave me a nest egg – one I’d planned to leave to the grandchildren.’

‘If I was you, I’d blow the lot.’

‘I’ve no intention of doing that, but money is hardly a worry, and my name is still on the farm. It will all go to the family, of course, so they’ll be well provided for.’

‘When do you plan to set off?’

‘As soon as my passport is sorted and the paperwork for the dog in order.’

‘She’ll need to visit the vet for a rabies injection too, I imagine?’ Arthur asked.

‘Aye, up-to-date boosters and tapeworm treatment too.’ Atticus looked at Ness, who’d raised her head and growled at the mention of the vet. ‘The old girl has a sixth sense,’ he chuckled, recalling the dog baring her teeth at Mr Herriot the last time she’d been for her boosters.

‘Where will you stay while you travel?’ Arthur asked.

Atticus did a double-take and stared at his friend. ‘Where do you think? In Winnie, of course.’

‘But what if you get stuck somewhere without electricity, water, or conveniences?’

‘This isn’t the last century; folk travel like this all the time and manage,’ Atticus said. ‘Besides, once I get to the camping site, there will be all the facilities I could possibly need.’

‘The domino team will miss you,’ Arthur said.

‘I’m sure you can hold the fort while I’m gone.’

‘Well, all I can say is good luck and I wish I was riding shotgun beside you.’ Arthur raised his glass. ‘You’re growing older with Europe at your feet – let your age be your guide.’

They both clinked glasses and stared fondly at each other.

Atticus looked thoughtful. ‘Jake always says, “Travel is the fountain of youth”.’

‘That lad has a vivid imagination,’ Arthur grinned. ‘But when you return, I expect you to look twenty years younger.’

As Atticus sipped his whisky and Arthur ordered another, a thought ran through his mind.

If I return!