Library

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The shrill ring of his mobile phone cut through Aron’s sleep. He opened his eyes.

Where the fuck am I?

Then it all came rushing back.

Shit!

Paul sat upright, rubbing his eyes. His hair stuck out everywhere, giving him a more than passing resemblance to an eighties Jon Bon Jovi.

“Are you going to answer that?” he grumbled.

Aron scrambled out of bed and grabbed the offending item off the dressing table. The screen lit up.

“Fuck, it’s Granny,” Aron said, running his hand through his own hair. “And fuck, it’s only half eight. That’s not a good sign.”

“Just make it stop. I beg of you.”

A kaleidoscope of options ran through his mind from her worried about his whereabouts to her in the intensive care unit with alcohol poisoning. He pressed Answer.

“Granny? Is everything all right?”

“No it isn’t,” she said, her voice tremoring. “The registry office has been flooded. A burst pipe or something.”

Aron held on to the wall. This was indeed an emergency. His day of fun preparations for the wedding had suddenly nosedived into a huge vat of shit. And all before he’d had coffee.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. We need all hands on deck. I don’t know what we’re going to do. We’ll have to come up with something very quickly.”

“We’ll fix this. Give me fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, Aron?”

“Yes?”

“Paul is on the missing list too. The Professor has texted him but if you could try and get through to him, that would be wonderful.”

Once again, he felt exposed under the light of Beatrice Wimpole.

“I’ll do my best.”

He finished the call and stared at a bleary-eyed Paul.

“There’s been a serious incident at HQ. Immediate recall. The fucking registry office is out of action.”

Paul’s jaw almost hit the duvet. “Are you kidding me? Does Dad know? He’ll have kittens.”

Paul threw the duvet back and joined Aron in the middle of the room.

“Come on,” Paul said. “Get dressed.”

“Wait. We need to think about this,” Aron said. “Granny is already giving me vibes that she’s sussed us. If we rock up together, it’s obvious what we’re up to.”

“Which is?”

Even in the midst of a crisis, Aron appreciated the sight of Paul standing there totally naked. His body was almost irresistible.

“That we’re sleeping together.”

Paul rubbed his stubbly chin. “That sounds very plural to me. Mr Wimpole, do you intend to press your luck with me again?”

Damn!

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Aron replied, folding his arms. “It was an insurance plural in case I do.”

“Crafty.”

“Anyway, we can’t mess about. Granny will be ready for war before noon. I’d better go first and try and calm her.”

Paul nodded. “Seems fair. My Dad is probably still asleep.”

“Yeah right,” Aron said. “Granny would not go through this alone. No, he’ll be throwing his tweed uniform on as we speak and dashing round. Oh, he’s texted you as well.”

Paul retrieved his phone from his trouser pocket. “Only eighteen times. Bloody hell. What should I do?”

“Go straight home. I’ll come and get you once I’ve calmed Granny down.”

“Fine.”

Aron began to pick his strewn clothes up. Paul snuck up behind him, pressing his cock against Aron’s ass.

“I’m looking forward to making this plural,” he whispered in Aron’s ear.

He pushed against Paul’s body, revelling in their body heat mingling. Paul slid his arms around Aron’s waist and nuzzled his neck.

“Me too,” Aron murmured. “Now scoot. I may like your penis but I fear my grandmother more.”

Aron replayed Paul’s words over in his head as he half walked and half ran home. Was he about to make what happened last night plural?

Probably.

He couldn’t forget the feel of Paul’s smooth skin so easily. They were right when they were together. Especially in bed.

He walked onto Queens Crescent and bumped straight into Alexander and Zac.

“Whoa,” Zac cried out. “Calm down, Roadrunner. Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” Aron replied.

He leant on some railings to steady himself.

“Now, Zac, my love,” Alexander said. “What do we have here? Aron Wimpole coming home in the clothes he wore to the party if I’m not mistaken.”

Of all the people, it had to be Alexander out for a morning stroll. What happened to him making a hangover to end all hangovers?

“What are you two doing up at this hour? Is this what happens when you get loved up? Going for a walk instead of other activities?”

“Never answer a question with a question.”

Zac draped his arm around Alexander’s shoulder. “Down, boy. It might be none of our business.”

“I like this man,” Aron said. “He talks sense.”

Alexander didn’t appear as if he would be placated that easily. He stood there with his arms folded and an expectant expression on his face.

“Fine,” Aron said. He didn’t have time to spar with Alexander. “Paul will be arriving in twenty minutes in the same clothes too.”

“I knew it,” Alexander said. “You dirty dogs.”

“Oh shut up,” Aron replied, allowing a wry smile to cross his lips.

Alexander grinned “And does this mean you’re on again?”

The question he would like an answer to. Not just from Paul but from himself. Aron had suppressed a whole world of confusion which would have to be taken out and examined thoroughly later on.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “It means we spent the night together. We haven’t had a chance to define it. I’ve got to go. Granny has an emergency. The bloody registry office has flooded.”

Alexander stood back. “Shit. You do know it’s the day before Christmas Eve?”

“No way,” Aron replied. “That hadn’t occurred to any of us. Thanks for reminding me.”

He received a playful slap on the arm from Alexander.

“Be careful, Wimpole. We can hang around until your returning lover shows up, you know? Maybe have a word with him about his intentions.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“He won’t,” Zac said. “Because he’s treating me to a hangover breakfast at The Bluebird Café. Aren’t you, Alexander?”

Alexander took Zac’s hand. “Fine. Seriously though, if there’s anything we can do for Mrs W and the Prof, give us a shout.”

“Thanks. Now shoo.”

Aron dashed off towards Granny’s house. He trusted Alexander not to open his mouth intentionally. The problem was, he rarely had control over it and would blurt out all sorts of confidential data. No, they were on borrowed time now.

He couldn’t worry about that now. There was a crisis to grapple with.

“Granny. It’s me,” he shouted after he left himself in. “Where are you?”

He heard a flurry of activity from the kitchen and to Aron’s astonishment, the Professor appeared in the doorway wearing the forest green velvet Gucci robe Aron had sent his grandmother for her last birthday.

Unfortunately, the Professor was almost a foot taller than Granny so it exposed far more leg than Aron knew what to do with at that time in the morning. He hoped to God that’s all there was on display. He refused to look any closer.

“Ah,” the Professor said. He appeared rooted to the spot. “You’re home earlier than expected.”

“Evidently. Where is she?”

Aron kept the eye to eye going. Every fibre in his being told him to drop his gaze. He resisted valiantly.

“In the kitchen. I’ll…well, I’ll go and get dressed.”

Don’t look down.

“Yes, I should,” Aron stammered.

With remarkable speed, the Professor sped past him and up the stairs. Unfortunately, the motion lifted the robe and Aron was treated to a flash of the Prof’s buttock.

He flinched and staggered against the doorframe.

My fucking eyes.

This morning was proving to be one of the weirdest of Aron’s life and that was saying something.

Once he’d recovered, Aron found his grandmother in the kitchen. She had on a pink silk robe. He thanked his lucky stars the Professor hadn’t chosen that garment. It was even flimsier than the green one.

“What’s going on?”

Granny sipped a coffee. She had that serene expression that she always adopted in a crisis.

“I told you.”

“I don’t mean that,” Aron said. “Why is the Professor creeping around like a deranged woodland nymph?”

She waved her hand at him. “He stayed over. Blame the cocktails. Anyway, we haven’t got time to focus on things that aren’t important. My wedding is collapsing around our ears.”

Aron sat opposite her. It would take many years for that mental image to fade. If ever. Now he had to remain calm and get a hold of the situation.

“Let’s take stock. The reception is fine,” he said. “Hang on, why don’t we hold the whole thing at the Nickleby?”

Granny shook her head.

“The ceremony was supposed to be at one. The room is only available from two after they’ve finished a ridiculous brunch to celebrate the local history society.”

Aron poured himself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere in front of them. He would be needing about a gallon of this to get through whatever the day had in store for him.

“Okay. Anything else I need to know?”

“The Professor spoke to Valerie, who’s our celebrant. She said she can perform anywhere.”

Aron wasn’t sure Valerie would be pleased at being described as a performer. He also thought it best not to correct Granny at that moment. She had the appearance of a woman on the edge. Woe betide the person who pushed her over.

It certainly won’t be me.

“That’s something,” he said. “So all we need is a new venue.”

“With two working days until Christmas,” Granny replied.

That was the bind of it all. Why had she insisted on getting married over the holiday season?

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“That will be Paul,” Granny said,

“I’ll go,” Aron replied.

He got up.

“This wedding has to go ahead,” Granny said.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

“Of course not,” she replied.

“Then why are you so insistent on it happening so quickly?”

“I love him,” she said simply.

Aron squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll solve this.”

How they were going to do that remained a mystery. He strode down the hallway and flung open the door.

There was Paul, also in his clothes from the night before and looking criminally attractive.

“I thought we said half an hour?” Aron whispered. “I’ve been back about five minutes.”

“Dad wasn’t home so I figured he’d be round here. What am I supposed to do? Sit on my own counting down the time?”

Aron pulled him inside.

“For your information, your father stayed the night here. I’ve just been treated to his naked arse as he fled upstairs to get dressed.”

“What?”

Aron shuddered. “Come on. We’re in the shit, big-time.”

Before he could turn, Paul stole a kiss.

“Sorry. I’m powerless to resist.”

“Please try,” Aron replied. “I have a thumping headache and an interrogation from my grandmother is not on my to-do list for today.”

They went into the kitchen. Granny stared into space, seemingly deep in thought.

“Would the museums still be closed?” she mused.

They heard footsteps and in came a, thankfully, fully clothed Professor.

“Yes, dear. They will,” he said.

The twinkle in his eye was both endearing and nauseating. Still, they were being far more honest than he and Paul were. Perhaps a little too honest.

“Okay,” Aron said. “We still have a celebrant, all the outfits and about twelve business hours to get this together. Now think.”

They sat around the table in silence. Only Parkin’s snores could be heard.

“I suppose Club C is out of the question?” the Professor asked.

“I am not getting married in a nightclub, Philip. That’s a firm no.”

“Sod it,” Paul said. “Let’s ask the King for a portion of Hyde Park.”

Granny chuckled. “They’re never in residence at the Palace for Christmas anyway. He might go for it.”

Suddenly it struck him. Aron leapt off his chair.

“I’ve got it,” he cried out. “I know the perfect place.”

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.