Page 21 of The Best of Times
“So you don’t fancy coming next week when the sale is on?”
Paul shuddered. “Absolutely not. Tell me at what point we’ve earnt a drink.”
“That’s a long way away, my friend.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Friend?”
“Don’t read anything into it,” Aron replied. “It’s a catch-all word.”
“I don’t remember you being so snippity.”
“Things change.” Aron glanced at his watch. “We’ve got an hour before our meeting. Will you please choose a bow tie? Come on.”
They swerved out of the main flow of shoppers and took solace behind a display of ties. Aron had accompanied Granny on enough trips to have the floorplan indelibly imprinted on his brain. He hoped they never had a restructure.
“Okay. Let me see,” Paul said.
There were rows and rows of the damned things. From boring shades of blue to ones festooned with dogs or footballs or even Christmas puddings. Paul selected two matching ones with floral designs. Red roses on a cream background.
“What do you think?”
“I like. Plus, they’re the right colours. See, I knew you could do this if you put your mind to it.”
Paul threw them into the Harrods bag they’d selected when they first came in. Aron had the idea that they would fill aplethora of such bags. Granny would get a kick out seeing them all lined up.
“What’s next?”
“Gifts for everyone.”
“Oh fucking hell,” Paul groaned. “How about vouchers?”
“I’m sure Christmas is exciting when you’re around.”
Paul shoved past a family who were trying on gloves. “I think I’ve proven today that I’m a very good gift buyer.”
“You have me there. It’s easy to get something for your father. How about everyone involved in making this day special? Now that’s a challenge and a half.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “A challenge? Now that is irresistible. Come with me, Wimpole.”
Aron was led through the iconic store. There was no time for chatter. The din made it impossible.
He watched Paul weave through the people like an expert. Aron’s gaze fell to that perfect ass of his. He’d remembered how that had felt to the touch. As well as the rest of Paul’s body. Yes, Aron had slept with a few people since Paul. They’d all failed to match up.
Maybe Alexander and Mercury were right. What if he did want more than to prove to Paul what a mistake he’d made?
Down that road madness lies.
He tried to force the impure thoughts from his brain and turn his focus on his grandmother. He had to get this right for her. Soon they were in the food halls. Paul marched proudly up to the hamper section.
He pointed to one that had champagne, chocolates, a scented candle and an array of creams and potions.
“There. How many do we need?”
“Twenty.”
“Then they’re getting delivered. I’m not carrying twenty Harrods hampers home.”
It was a great idea. Who didn’t love receiving a wicker basket full of treats?
