Page 43 of The Best of Times
Granny appeared as if out of nowhere.
“Yes. Have you heard of it?”
“Ha,” she said. “Heard of it? It was my favourite place for a summer or two. I could tell you a few stories from there.”
Aron desperately hoped she wouldn’t. He still hadn’t got over her solo trip to the lingerie shop.
Granny frowned at the DJ. “I don’t recognise him,” she continued. “Mind you, none of us look like we did.”
She charged over to the DJ booth. Probably to interrogate the poor man.
The club wasn’t full. Even so, Granny had still managed to invite about sixty people. Most of them were strangers to Aron. Thankfully. he spotted Mercury and Alexander talking to a group of other men. He presumed they were part of the new Wimpole harem.
He wandered over.
“Here he is,” Alexander said, putting an arm around Aron. “Do you know everyone?”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
“I’m Mercury.”
“I know you.”
Mercury gave him a sweet smile.
“You’ve met Jeremy, of course.”
Aron nodded at the local author. He hadn’t had much time to really get to know him. Granny spoke very highly of him and that had to be enough for anyone.
“This is Anthony Grizedale.”
Aron shook hands with a very smart individual.
“And I’m sure Carl Carrington needs no introduction.”
The exceptionally handsome politician held a cocktail. His eyes were glassy, suggesting this was not his first drink of the evening. “You’re very lucky to have such an amazing grandmother. You must be very proud.”
“Oh I am.”
“And last but not least, this is Cesar.”
“Ah yes, you had the big Christmas hit last year. I would have thought you’d be busy all over again.”
Cesar nodded. “We are. I refused a gig at Somerset House for this. I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”
Once more, it touched Aron deeply how loved Granny was in these parts. He glanced over. She was chuckling away with the DJ. She had been so present in his life he could be forgiven for taking her for granted. Hearing all the outpouring of affection from her newfound family told him that had been a mistake. He should value every minute with her.
He accepted one of the cocktails from an unsteady Carl.
“Try one,” he said. “They’re delicious.”
Aron took a sip. It really was top notch. Granny’s favourite tastes of rhubarb, raspberry and of course gin were present.
“This is dangerous,” he said, holding it up.
Before he had a chance to propose a toast, his gaze was drawn to the door. There stood his mother and sister. They seemed lost.
“Excuse me,” he said.
