Page 50 of The Best of Times
Fuck it. I need him tonight.
Granny sat in a booth, snuggled up to the Professor and watching the proceedings. He made his way over.
“Darling,” she said. “Where have you been?”
“Talking to Mercury,” he said. “Prof, do you think I might have a quick word with Granny alone?”
His intention was to split them up as they said their goodbyes. Paul would wither under a cross-examination from Granny. Aron had learnt to navigate them over the years. He would fare better facing her alone.
“Of course, young man. How about another cocktail, Beatrice?”
“Why not? I’ll be an old married woman soon.”
The Professor trotted off with a kilowatt smile on his face.
“What is the matter?” Granny asked.
“I feel awful when it’s your big night but Mercury’s meeting Nick in town at a new club. He’s invited me along. Would you hate me if I went?”
Granny glanced over at the door. Aron followed her stare to see Paul coming in.
Too early, you bloody fool.
She leant forward and took his hand. “My lovely boy. I would never stop you doing what you felt you wanted to do. Go and have some fun.”
Does she know?
“Thanks. I hope I don’t regret it in the morning.”
“What’s life without the odd regret? Now off you go. I fancy another dance. I’ll get my second wind soon.”
Aron kissed her on the cheek. “I love you very much. You know that, don’t you?”
“Ever since they handed you to me in the delivery ward and you did the loudest fart I’ve ever heard.”
Aron cringed. This story had haunted him his whole life. It was like she had a mental filing cabinet full of them and she could summon up the perfect tale on demand. He supposed that’s what grandparents were for. Amongst other things.
“Granny,” he said with a groan.
“I mean it. You were so comfortable with me everything relaxed. I knew then that you and I would have something special.”
Aron welled with tears. He would have preferred a kinder story but the sentiment that was there still touched his heart.
“Go. Have fun,” she said.
“I’ll try.”
Before either of them could say any more, the lights dimmed and the spotlight came on the stage.
“What on earth?” Granny exclaimed.
“It’s nothing to do with me,” Aron replied. “I didn’t book an act. Maybe Rodrigo has booked Mick Jagger.”
Granny sat bolt upright. “Oh I don’t think so,” she said. “Mick hasn’t been back to Queens Crescent since the sixties.”
Aron’s eyes widened. “You knew Mick Jagger.”
“I knew him for a few hours,” she said, patting his arm. “Of course, he wanted more but I refused. My father would have gone berserk. Whenever I see Marianne Faithful on the television, I wonder what if.”
