Page 9 of Atticus Arnott's Great Adventure

Chapter Eight

A tticus stood in the old barn’s workshop and rocked on the balls of his feet.

His body was tense as he dug his hands into the pockets of his moleskin trousers and stared at his little house on wheels.

Beside him, Jake, on an Inset Day from school, stood back to admire the newly refurbished Winnie.

He held a cloth and leaned in to give the bright yellow paintwork a final polish.

‘Grandad, I reckon that you are all set.’ Jake folded his arms. ‘There’s nothing left for us to check. Winnie is ready, so you need to decide if you are going to be on tomorrow night’s ferry.’ He turned to face him. ‘It’s now or never.’

‘Aye lad, I know,’ Atticus replied, one hand subconsciously stroking Ness.

Ness sat between the two on a blanket in her box. The dog cocked her ears, as though determined to hear Atticus’s decision too.

‘Arthur reckons that if I go, I should set off in the early hours to avoid heavy traffic on the motorway,’ Atticus said, his voice hesitant.

‘That would make sense,’ Jake said. ‘The ferry doesn’t leave till nine at night, so it gives time for you to wander around and have a look at Portsmouth.’

Atticus nodded, still uncertain of his decision.

‘I’ve put everything in a file for you,’ Jake said. ‘All in the correct order as you travel. It’s on the passenger seat.’

‘Are you sure everything’s in there?’

‘Yes.’ Jake rolled his eyes. ‘My dad might think I’m hopeless with learning and schoolwork, but when something matters, I make sure I’m organised.

’ He turned to Winnie and opened the driver’s door, and reached in to grab it.

‘Look, we can go through all of this before you set off,’ he said, holding up the thick file.

‘We’ll also have another lesson on your mobile. ’

Atticus stared at the file containing everything he would need for his journey.

Suddenly, his shoulders visibly relaxed. Rubbing his hands together, he gave a nod of his head and smiled at his grandson. Finally, he’d made his decision! The crossroads had been reached, and it was now or never. With determination, Atticus slapped Jake on the back.

‘Well, I suppose it wouldn’t make sense to waste that ferry ticket,’ Atticus said. ‘And all the money paid out for Ness.’

Hearing her name, Ness leapt from her bed and began to paw at Atticus’s leg, her tail thumping excitedly.

‘Brilliant! You’ll be like the oldest hippy in town!’ Jake’s eyes shone. ‘Just wait till I tell all my mates that my grandad is driving across Europe to the beat of his own drum.’

Atticus raised his eyebrows. Jake may be falling short in most subjects, but he’d get an A-star in English if he continued to be so profound.

‘When will you tell Dad?’ Jake asked.

‘Better get it over and done with at lunchtime,’ Atticus replied.

‘Will you let Aunty Mary know too?’

‘Aye, I’ll do that.’ Atticus nodded as he reached down to swing Ness’s box into the back of the camper.

Inexplicably, an inner voice told him that his daughter already knew.

Atticus remembered Mary’s departure from the farm.

With her luggage and kids packed up in the Range Rover, she’d stood in the yard and embraced him.

As he felt Mary’s silky head against his cheek, Atticus heard her whisper, ‘ The road less travelled is the one that leads to the most exciting adventures. Remember Mum’s words and don’t let the old man in. ’

‘You’ll need a sleep this afternoon before you set off,’ Jake said.

‘Alright, I know.’ Atticus was acutely aware of youth over age, reminding him that a four-hundred-mile journey in the middle of the night required an alert pensioner behind the wheel.

‘I can’t wait to see Dad’s reaction,’ Jake grinned. ‘He’s going to blow a fuse.’

Atticus sighed. He didn’t want to encounter Mungo’s reaction and knew his grandson was undoubtedly right.

‘Oh well, I’d best get it done,’ Atticus carefully closed Winne’s sliding door. ‘But in the meantime, let’s go over to the cottage and review that file of yours together.’

Lunchtime in the family farmhouse didn’t go as Atticus had planned. As Helen served soup and sandwiches, Eliza dragged a chair noisily across the kitchen floor before throwing herself down at the table. She moaned about how an Inset Day from school shouldn’t be spent doing homework.

‘Why can’t I go into the village with my friends?’ Eliza complained.

Atticus kept his head down as Mungo berated his offspring, telling both Eliza and Jake to sit in his office that afternoon so he could supervise them while they did their homework.

‘But that’s not fair!’ Eliza yelled, banging her spoon on the table.

As Mungo held firm, Atticus ate silently. There was no appropriate pause in the conversation for him to announce his news, and it was with relief that he finished his meal and could hurry out of the kitchen to return to his cottage.

A little while later, as Atticus relaxed in his armchair with Ness beside him, his mobile rang. He stared at the device before sliding his finger across the screen to answer, just as Jake had shown him.

‘You bottled it!’ Jake whispered as Attius held the phone to his ear.

‘I’ll tell him later. ’

‘Well, I won’t be around. I’m playing football for the village tonight in a friendly.’

Jake sounded grumpy, and Atticus wondered if the lad had been looking forward to the family confrontation. They both knew that fish would climb trees before Mungo approved of his father setting off to Spain in a forty-year-old vehicle.

‘I’ll call you when I get to Portsmouth tomorrow morning,’ Atticus said. ‘Now, get your homework done and make sure you win your match tonight.’

Atticus knew he needed to speak to Mungo, but, unsure of the best time to take his son aside and tell him of the journey he was about to embark upon, he dithered.

The longer he took, the less inclined he felt to break the news.

Wouldn’t it be better to let Mungo know when he was well on his way, ensuring there was no possibility of being talked out of his decision?

He needed advice from an adult, and, reaching for his mobile again, Atticus decided to call his best friend.

Arthur would know what to do.

‘Are you absolutely sure I’m doing the right thing?’ Atticus asked as he sat behind Winnie’s wheel in the early hours of the morning, under the cloak of darkness, staring at Arthur.

Sitting alongside Atticus, dressed in a woolly bob hat and a fleecy dressing gown, Arthur wore cycle clips over his pyjama bottoms, which gripped the flannel fabric around his spindly legs .

‘Absolutely,’ Arthur said firmly. ‘But Mungo will string you up if he finds out that you’re off galivanting for the first time abroad, on your own at your time of life, in this old camper. He won’t think it safe.’

With Ness sitting upright between them, Arthur had his arm around the Collie dog.

‘I’m not so sure I am doing the right thing. Perhaps I should have told him,’ Atticus said as he inched Winnie out of the barn.

Moonlight peeked beyond the night cloud and an eerie glow illuminated the camper’s bright paintwork. Awakened from the confines of years in the barn, Winnie’s newly rebuilt engine, precisely tuned, purred perfectly.

Atticus drove slowly across the yard. As he passed the farmhouse, both men simultaneously lowered their heads, hoping their crouched position would shield them. Conscious that any engine noise might alert the sleeping family, both held their breath.

With each passing second, Atticus felt like a phantom on the run.

Suddenly, a figure leapt out and threw itself into the headlights. Atticus slammed on the brakes, and as the front-seat trio plunged forward, Arthur’s bob hat slipped over his eyes. Arthur gripped the dashboard and shouted, ‘What the hell?’

Atticus blew out his breath. ‘It’s only Jake, don’t panic.’ Winding down the driver’s window, Atticus hissed, ‘What on earth are you playing at? I could have killed you.’

‘I wanted to say goodbye and give you this,’ Jake replied, thrusting out a plastic figure.

‘What is it?’ Atticus asked, puzzled, as he took the eight-inch object and tilted it towards the light.

‘It’s a lucky travelling gnome, symbolising an intrepid spirit and a determination to discover the unknown.’

Arthur, who appeared from under the brim of his bob hat, perched his spectacles on his nose. ‘It looks like something the dog might chew,’ he said. ‘You won’t see many of those in Spain.’

Ness jabbed her nose at the gnome’s chubby cheeks and long white beard. She sniffed its patched-up jacket and scuffed leather boots. The gnome’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief as it held up a walking stick adorned with ribbons and a flag that read, ‘Adventure Awaits’.

‘Aye, well, that’s very kind, but there’ll be no adventure if I don’t get going,’ Atticus said, tucking the gnome into his pocket. Time was ticking on.

‘I wish I was coming with you, Grandad,’ Jake said. His face was beginning to crumple, and Atticus could tell his grandson might burst into tears at any moment.

‘There’ll be another adventure with your name on it,’ he said softly. ‘But for now, get your schooling under your belt and keep out of trouble.’

‘Send me lots of photos.’

‘Aye, you can rest assured I’ll use that fancy phone.’ Atticus reached out and ruffled Jake’s thick, dark hair. ‘Now be a good lad and get back to bed.’

‘I love you,’ Jake said, and with sluggish feet, he backed away from Winnie.

‘And I love you too,’ Atticus replied, feeling a lump in his throat as he waved and watched Jake’s figure recede. Still mindful of waking Mungo, he slowly drove Winnie out of the driveway, across the main road, and through the village.

‘You can drop me off anywhere,’ Arthur said as his smallholding came into view. Tucked neatly in fields adjoining the village and named by Shirley when they married, Shirlarth Cottage had been their home for more than forty years.

‘I’ll take you to your door,’ Atticus replied as Winnie cruised along.

‘And wake Shirley?’ Arthur’s eyes widened.

The gate to his home was open, and a long driveway lay ahead.

‘And what do you think she’ll say when I tell her that I crept out like a thief in the night to cycle to Barn Hill Farm to say goodbye to my foolish old mate, who hasn’t the balls to tell his family he’s leaving? ’

Arthur’s eyes scanned the entrance for signs of a raging wife, but the only eyes that stared back were from Shirley’s collection of garden gnomes.

The whimsical little guardians of the flowerbeds had pointy hats and cheery smiles, and Shirley’s sentinels of suburban life scared the life out of Arthur, who was sure they came to life when no one was looking.

‘Well, when you put it like that…’ Atticus agreed.

Moments later, he helped Arthur lift his cycle from Winnie’s interior. The friends shook hands as they stood in the moonlight on damp grass.

‘Thanks. F…for all your help in planning this adventure and seeing me off to say goodbye,’ Atticus muttered, hi s voice cracking with emotion.

‘Aw, getaway. I wish I was coming with you.’ Arthur stared down at his hands. ‘Keep in touch, and make sure you put away some memories in your memory bank for the days when you no longer can,’ he said.

‘Aye, my old mate, you can be sure.’

They shook hands again, then Arthur reached for his bike.

‘I’ll have to go, my slippers are getting wet,’ he said, and with a wobble and a wave, he gripped the handlebars.

‘Farewell for now,’ Atticus whispered as Arthur disappeared into the darkness. ‘Till we meet again.’