Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Aron sat in the coffee shop, facing the door. When he and Jane had organised this meeting, she had made it clear that being seen together at the British Library was not appropriate. He was quite relieved. Until he had found out what she wanted, he still hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. It would be just his luck to run into the Professor or even worse, the Professor and Granny.

He found it unsettling being in the coffee shop. The smell and vibe whisked him back to New York. A familiar knot of anxiety appeared in his stomach when he thought of it. He had tried to put it down to Jane getting in touch. He wasn’t so sure.

Calm yourself. She might simply fancy a Christmas coffee. Or to pick your brains on the latest books coming out of the States.

They had never formally met but he instantly recognised her when she burst through the door, her straight brown hair blowing in the wind. She spotted him immediately and charged over. Aron reckoned she would be in her late forties. She exuded positivity and friendliness.

He stood and took her hand.

“Aron Wimpole. So good to finally meet you.”

“And you,” she said, shaking his hand. “Forgive the attire. We’re having a Christmas jumper day.”

She removed her bright red duffel coat to reveal a sweatshirt with a Christmas tree made up of books and the slogan All booked up for Christmas.

“Nice choice,” he said. “I ordered you a flat white.”

“Ah, you’re a mind reader. That’s my favourite.”

They sat. Jane arranged her hat, gloves and coat on the seat next to her. Aron noticed she didn’t rush or try to initiate conversation in the meantime. This was a woman used to being in control. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Once she had finished, she smiled at him.

“You must wonder why I’ve intruded on your family time. I really do appreciate you finding time for me.”

“To be honest, you’re a lifesaver. It’s all getting a bit intense.”

Jane sipped her coffee. “I’ve met Professor Higgs many times over the years. A lovely man.”

Aron wished she would get to the point. The anticipation was killing him. He fought to control his leg from wobbling.

“Anyway. I digress. I’ve been following your career, Aron. From all reports you’re doing very well in New York.”

“Thank you. I enjoy my work.”

“You’ve been there a while now?”

“A little over two years. Not so long.”

She regarded him. “Are you settled?”

Wow she was direct. He’d have to match her.

“To be honest, I’ve never seen it as a long-term thing. My visa isn’t infinite, after all.”

“True. Then these obstacles can be overcome if one really wants to.”

Such close scrutiny made him uncomfortable to say the least. “I guess. I suppose I’m leaving myself open to options for the time being.”

She nodded slowly. “What if I told you that the British Library were about to advertise for a new chief executive?”

Aron almost dropped the cup. Roberta Johnson, the current Chief Exec, was only in her early fifties. Most people had predicted she would be in post for at least another decade.

“What’s happened?”

“Ah, that’s confidential, I’m afraid. It’s all perfectly amicable. Roberta needs to be elsewhere right now.”

It was a blow to the organisation and very big shoes to fill.

I could do it. I bloody know I could.

“I’m stunned,” he said.

“You look it.”

To buy some time, he sipped slowly on his coffee.

“Seriously,” Jane said, relieving him of the duty of responding. “I have spoken to the Board and we really would encourage you to apply. I’m probably breaking a hundred rules telling you that. Oh well, I’ve done it now.”

Aron was overheating in the chunky jumper he’d chosen that morning. This was his dream job. Fuck.

“When will it be live?”

Jane glanced at her watch. “In about fifteen minutes. I’m not that much of a rulebreaker. You’ve plenty of time. The closing date isn’t until mid-January. Now tell me all about New York. Is Calvin Terry still a self-absorbed prick?”

On his way to the Underground station, he decided to take a detour. Gays The Word was a small LGBTQ+ book shop that had been open since the eighties. Inside it held a treasure trove of gay literature. Aron had been a regular ever since his teenage years although he hadn’t visited since his university days.

He smiled when he saw the sign. It meant a lot that it was still standing. Over the years, many had tried to break it.

As he browsed the titles, Jane’s words echoed in his head. She had practically offered him the job. Of course, they had their policies and procedures to follow. Now all he had to do was to figure out if he wanted it.

Fleeing London had been the only thing on his mind two years previously. Would it be foolish to come all the way back?

He moved farther into the shop. When Aron wanted to centre his mind, he would browse books. He’d always found peace when surrounded by other people’s thoughts and words. It made his own problems feel unremarkable. If writers managed to grapple with plots and characters and personal experiences, then he’d find a way to solve even the most complicated of conundrums.

If push came to shove, he would write a list of pros and cons. The old ways were the best sometimes.

It was hard for him to admit. New York hadn’t exactly turned out as expected. He’d made a few friends through work. But his social life left a lot to be desired. The city was so fast-paced he’d found it hard to find like-minded people. As for falling in love, it appeared that wasn’t on his agenda just yet.

Then again, if he came home to London, he might feel like he’d failed. Aron had only spent two years in New York. Had he given it enough time to make an impact? If Calvin invited him to his inner circle, it could open up all sorts of contacts.

On the other hand, coming home to take up the mantle of the Chief Executive of the British Library was hardly terrible. It was a job he’d fantasised about for most of his life. Opportunities like that didn’t come up every day. He would probably be the youngest to hold that post too. The pressure would be huge.

Then there were personal considerations. Granny wasn’t getting any younger. She might have the Professor to keep an eye on her now, but even so, Aron had seen a change in her while he’d been home. She’d relied on him way more than she ever had before.

His mind drifted to his mother, as it so often had over the last few days. Now that was a situation he had no idea what to do with. Most people would say give it time. However with the Atlantic Ocean between them, no progress was ever going to be made.

The final piece of this puzzle was Paul. Aron had flown all the way here with the express intention of proving to Paul that he’d missed his chance. The more time they spent together, the more he felt that he was the one missing out.

His phone rang out. A customer beside him tutted loudly.

“ Sorry ,” Aron mouthed.

Not daring to check if the person behind the counter was scowling, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket. His screen told him one of the pros on the list was calling.

He left the shop and stepped out onto the street.

“Granny,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“In town. What’s up?”

She sighed. “Apparently, I’m supposed to get the Professor a gift. Things have changed since the last time I got married.”

He grinned.

“Leave it to me,” he said.

“Oh you’re a good boy. Don’t be late home. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Roger that.”

He terminated the call. Aron knew exactly where he had to go. He raised a hand to hail a cab.

“Where to?”

“Liberty’s, please.”

Club C had been decorated to perfection. Huge posters of stars of the sixties were hanging. Twiggy, the Beatles and of course, Granny’s favourite, Mick Jagger. A DJ who probably had been there the first time around was playing all the hits.

“Where did you find him?” Aron asked Rodrigo.

“Apparently he used to play at the 51 Club.”

“Did you say the 51 Club?”

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.

He strode over to them.

“Hello there,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

His mother had on a floral dress with a beige blazer. His sister had made more of an effort in a sixties-style mini dress.

He hugged her. “You look sensational.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Aron had opted for a tight shirt with a green geometric pattern paired with equally as snug brown trousers.

Thank goodness for eBay.

His mother took a step forward and they exchanged an awkward hug.

“Where’s the guest of honour?” she asked as they retreated swiftly from each other.

“Incoming.”

Granny came up to them holding a bottle of champagne.

“Here you are,” she said. “Turns out I do know that DJ.”

“Oh yes?” Aron asked. “How?”

“Never you mind. You two need drinks.”

His mother once more crossed the space between them and to his astonishment, linked Aron’s arm.

“How about you introduce us to those cocktails?” she said, staring at his glass. “They look delicious.”

Aron shared a glance with Granny, who nodded.

It appeared it was going to be a night full of surprises.