Page 25 of The Best of Times
Why was it so much easier to talk to strangers?
“Have you spoken to your grandmother about it?”
“God no,” Aron replied. “She has enough on her plate at the moment to be concerned with my worries.”
Rodrigo sipped his flat white coffee and regarded Aron. “It appears to me that she’s emptied that particular plate onto yours. I’m sure she would be more than happy to listen to what is going on in your life.”
How had this turned into a family therapy session?
“I guess. Maybe if the time is right, hey? Anyway, let’s get down to business.”
The other thing Granny liked was gossip. Aron barely trusted Alexander and Mercury not to cave in under pressure. He wasn’t about to give this man any titbits that might fall into Granny’s hands. She would be all over it like a rash.
Aron was determined Granny would be his number one priority this week. No matter what Paul Higgs had to say on the matter.
“Very well. What are we going to do?”
Aron hadn’t been thinking of much else since he’d thrown down the gauntlet to Paul back at the peach temple. He would make this a night to remember. No matter what.
“The main thing is we need to beat the stags,” Aron replied.
“Ah, a little competition. I like it. What have they got planned?”
Aron made a face. “A night in The Swan was the last idea being discussed, I believe.”
“Pah,” Rodrigo said. “Then it will be no problem to win this challenge. Club C is the best club around. Even if I say so myself. Did you want a theme?”
“I think so. How about the sixties? It’s when she grew up, after all.”
“I like it. Where did she spend her childhood?”
“Right here on Queens Crescent,” Aron replied. “She’s never lived anywhere else.”
Rodrigo considered it for a second. “That explains her commitment to the place. I’ve never known anything like it. So, sixties. What kind of vibe?”
Aron was getting into the swing of things now. “Not flower power. From what I’ve heard, Granny was more likely to be found down the Kings Road rather than a commune. She’s always had a taste for the finer things in life. Let’s be honest.”
“That goes without saying. Blocks of colour. Funky geometric decorations. A band rather than a DJ? Am I on the right lines?”
“Actually, I think a DJ might be better. Granny gets quite agitated if anyone sings a Rolling Stones song other than Mick Jagger,” Aron said. “I’ll create some invitations. I want vintage outfits and glamour.”
Rodrigo’s eyes were shining. “I’ll get my barman to come up with some cocktails.”
“And mocktails,” Aron added.
“If you insist.”
“Granny might not want to get too drunk.”
Rodrigo burst out laughing. Aron frowned.
“What?”
“It appears a lot of things have changed since you went to New York.”
Aron pondered over what Rodrigo had said. When he’d been in Manhattan, he hadn’t expected things to change at Queens Crescent very much. Yet, it appeared to be the total opposite.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about random gay men knowing more about this new and improved version of Beatrice Wimpole than he did. He had been guilty of not giving her due attention.
