Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The limo drew up on Queens Crescent. It was grey and wet outside. Aron hoped that wasn’t an omen as he peered through the car window. Even so, to see the Georgian houses he knew so well looming over him gave him joy.

Granny’s house lay in the distance. Her Christmas tree already lighting the way from the dining room window.

I’m home.

“It was really very kind of you to give me a lift, Madeline,” he said.

“You’re very welcome, Aron. Make sure your grandmother knows.”

Aron chuckled. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Madeline drained the champagne flute in her hand.

“As if she won’t already have clocked it,” she replied. “Nothing gets past her. I bet she’s watching right this minute.”

He could quite believe it. Beatrice Wimpole had the uncanny knack of being able to smell a secret at fifty paces. She also seemed to have a blind spot where Aron was concerned. Something he remained eternally grateful for.

The driver walked around the outside of the car.

“How long since you’ve been home?” Madeline asked.

“More than two years.”

“Wow. You must be very excited.”

Aron nodded. “It feels like I’ve never been away, to tell you the truth.”

The door opened and Madeline exited the car like the movie star she was. It didn’t matter that the only person to witness it was her son, Mercury. He couldn’t imagine her ever being off duty.

Mercury flung his arms around his mother.

Not wanting to wait for the driver, Aron popped the door. The driver nodded gratefully before opening the trunk and pulling the first of Madeline’s suitcases out. The nation’s sweetheart didn’t travel lightly.

It’s the boot now, not the trunk.

Granny wouldn’t be impressed if he kept dropping Americanisms all over the place.

“Mercury!” Aron cried as he got out onto the street.

He jogged around the ridiculously big auto and into his friend’s arms.

“Bloody hell, Aron. Where did you come from?” Mercury said. “It’s been way too long. I didn’t expect you to be in there. Oh God, I bet Mother has given you all the gossip. Don’t believe a word of what she’s told you.”

Aron stood back and stared at Mercury. “Crime agrees with you.”

“Shut up. I can just imagine how my darling mother has framed it.”

“I never said a thing,” Madeline said. “You know very well who his source is.”

Aron grinned. “Are you happy, though?”

“Very.”

Granny had taken great pleasure in relaying the drama of Mercury’s conviction for vandalism, his community service punishment and subsequent love affair. It all sounded very romantic. Aron had been amazed. Mercury had never shown much interest in settling down. He’d always been the stereotypical rich kid about town.

It just goes to show. It can happen to anyone.

“You and Alexander both finding hot men? What is going on in this street?”

Mercury shrugged. “I think you need to ask your grandmother that.”

Aron shook his head.

“I’m not sure I want to know. She’s told me enough.”

Madeline broke off from them.

“Be careful with the bags,” she said to the poor driver. “There’s a vase in that one.”

“Oh great,” Mercury said. “More crap to fill the house.”

“It’s not crap. It’s eclectic. Plus it cost a fortune.”

With that she gave chase into the house to supervise.

“How are you really?” Mercury asked. “I’ve struggled to get an email out of you since you buggered off to New York.”

A stab of guilt lodged in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said and he meant it. “I couldn’t be reminded of this place. Beyond Granny’s regular updates obviously. They’re unstoppable.”

Mercury nodded. “I get it. He’s already home, you know.”

Aron glanced over at the Professor’s house. He half wished to see a figure in the window. So what if he did?

“Good for him,” Aron said. “Right, I’d better go and see Granny or I’ll be in trouble before I’ve got through the door.”

He went to get his case, which the driver had left on the pavement. The poor man was probably still being berated by Madeline over where to place her luggage. He didn’t need to worry about Aron’s abandoned bag on top of that.

“Hey, Aron.”

He turned to find Mercury beaming away at him.

“You’re looking good. I can get you in my gym as a visitor. In case you get withdrawals.”

“You’ve got a deal.”

Aron grabbed his case and set off up the cobbled street. The winter had robbed the trees of any colour. Even so, the gardens that the crescent of houses curved around were immaculate. Another of his grandmother’s pet projects.

As a child, he’d played on there in the summer. Sometimes with Mercury and Alexander as well as his own siblings. They’d seen it as their own personal recreational area. Granny had even let them camp there once. Not that he’d lasted the night. After the obligatory round of ghost stories, Aron had fled to the safety of Granny’s house.

A flash of anticipation gripped him. It had been a year since she’d visited him in Manhattan. What a trip that had been. She’d insisted they visited as many art galleries as possible. She’d bought a few pieces too. He’d been exhausted by the time she’d flown back to London.

The door opened before he had a chance to get anywhere near.

“Granny.”

Parkin leapt off the top step toward him like a missile. Aron dropped his bags and scooped up the little terrier, who proceeded to try to suffocate him with licks.

“Aron,” Mrs Wimpole exclaimed. “Parkin has been so excited. We both have.”

With the dog still in his arms, Aron cleared the steps up to the house and into his grandmother’s embrace.

She might be in her late seventies and slight of frame but she hugged him tightly.

When she stood away, he found tears in her eyes.

“Hey. What is it?”

“Oh, ignore me,” she said. “I’m so happy that you’re going to be staying with me. It will make this time very special.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Where else would I be? Besides, I have to make sure you don’t run away with the milkman.”

She cackled.

“Go and get your bags,” she said. “I’ll be in the drawing room.”

Aron released a more subdued Parkin and ran back onto the street to get the luggage he’d abandoned. As he went inside the house, movement in one of the Professor’s upstairs windows caught his eye.

He allowed himself a grin of victory.

So we’re off already, are we?

Closing the door behind him, he revelled in being back in Granny’s house. As usual fabulous artwork and sculpture surrounded him immediately. Granny displayed these on a rotational basis. The rest of her collection she kept in storage.

Only his grandmother would think of that.

He bounded up to the first-floor drawing room and found Granny perched on the sofa. She seemed smaller than the last time he’d seen her. Plus her arm was in a plaster cast. Regardless, her eyes were twinkling as usual.

She’d obviously made an effort with her outfit. She had on red trousers and a cream jumper. The Christmas decorations in the room matched her perfectly. A real tree sat pride of place in the corner, surrounded by gifts. Most of the decorations were decades old. He recognised them all like old friends.

“What happened?” he asked, nodding to her injury.

“I had a fall,” she replied.

He frowned. That was unlike her. “In the house?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, Josh Winterton and I were on a stakeout and I got carried away.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Don’t you start. The Professor has been chastising me ever since,” she said. “Even so, it fired him up enough to propose, so all’s well that ends well.”

“I think I’m probably going to end up on the side of the Professor with this one. You look well despite the arm, Granny,” he said as he flopped into the comfy armchair by the fireplace.

“I’ve been having facials and all sorts,” she said. “As soon as he heard about the wedding, Alexander took control.”

Aron peered closer. “You haven’t had Botox, have you?”

She primped her hair. “Only a little.”

“Granny!”

“I’m not anywhere near as bad as your new friend, Madeline Morrison. She can barely register emotion. I’m sure even her limited acting abilities require facial movement of some description.”

Aron chuckled. Of course, his arrival had been closely monitored. Madeline had been bang on the money.

“No Prof?” he asked. “I had hoped to break up a lover’s tryst. Send him packing with threats of guns at dawn. That sort of thing.”

Mrs Wimpole beamed. “You get cheekier instead of more mature. He’s at a meeting about a book or something. You would know better than I. Don’t you worry about him. You should be more concerned with the list of jobs I’ve got for you.”

Aron shuddered. Not only was he the eldest grandchild, he’d also been nominated as unofficial wedding planner.

“Aren’t you paying someone to do such things?”

“I’m paying them to do the easy stuff,” she replied. “I’m not having someone I don’t know help me pick out colour schemes. Or taste canapés. Or choose floral arrangements.”

So much for having a lie-in with a good read. He’d evidently entered Beatrice Wimpole’s Boot Camp. Not that he really minded.

“I’m surprised you’re letting anyone else do that. Even me.”

“I’m too old to be chasing around town,” she continued. “And we’ve hardly any time.”

“Granny. Is this a shotgun affair?”

This time she threw a cushion at him with precise aim.

“I only trust you to help. You don’t mind, do you, darling?”

The inflection at the end of that speech combined with dewy eyes made him putty in her hands.

“I’m a moth to your flame, Grandmama. Whatever you need.”

She produced a neatly typed piece of paper from her handbag and proffered it to him.

“Nothing like being prepared,” he muttered.

He took it and gave it a scan. To his horror there was a lot of text.

“Granny. I can’t do all this on my own.”

“I know,” she said. “You’ll be working with Paul. It’s all arranged.”

Butterflies swarmed around his belly and down his legs.

“Oh. I see,” he managed.

“That is all right, isn’t it?”

He didn’t dare look up. Granny had a steely gaze that could make grown men give up all their secrets.

“Sure thing,” he replied, hopefully lightly. “More hands make light work and all that.”

“I thought so. You two got on so well in the pandemic,” she said. “It will be nice to be together again. Philip has been so excited to have him home. Oh, by the way, we’re having Christmas day with them too.”

“You’re full of surprises today.”

“Of course, if your parents invite you, I’ll understand.”

What a joke. “Ha. I’ve no plans with them. I’d love to.”

“I must say, you’ve beefed up since I last saw you.”

“Thanks,” he said. “New York agrees with me.”

She waved him away. “We have gymnasiums in London too.”

Aron rubbed his hands together. “Let’s hope Mr Higgs has come to work. This is going to get rougher than those war zones he likes to hang around in.”

“Don’t joke,” she said. “The Professor worries himself sick. He always has. Well, since Afghanistan.”

“Granny. That was donkey’s years ago.”

“Being a parent never stops, you know. That reminds me,” she said. “Let him choose the photographer. But don’t let him get too caught up in gritty realism. You know how he is.”

“He’s won quite a lot of prizes for gritty realism.”

“Not of my face, he hasn’t. Nor will he.”

“Whatever you say, Granny dearest.”

She positively glowed. “It’s wonderful to have you here. Did I say that?”

“You did. I don’t mind you saying it again though. I’m sorry I haven’t been home before now.”

His Granny got up and wandered over to the window.

“After everything that happened, I don’t blame you wanting to live under your own steam for a while,” she said. “It doesn’t stop me missing you.”

She peered out.

“I do believe it’s getting brighter. Come on. We’ll go for a stroll. Or would you prefer a proper cup of tea first? It must be quite some time since you’ve had one.”

Aron grinned. “I’ll manage a bit longer. I don’t want to waste a break in the rain if that’s what you want.”

“I can’t wait to show you off,” she replied. “Of course, Madeline Morrison has already seen you but what about Alexander? Oh and you won’t have met Jeremy yet. A lovely boy. Then there is Simon Harrington. I told you he’d come out of the closet, didn’t I?”

“You seem to have quite the collection these days, Granny.”

She came over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. You’re still my favourite.”

Instantly he felt about twelve years old again. The smell of her floral scent and the calm she exuded. It was home.

“I should hope so,” he said.

She patted his cheek.

“Come, Parkin.”

The very comfortable-looking Yorkshire terrier stared at her with pleading eyes.

“I said, come, Parkin.”

With a resigned sigh, he jumped down from the sofa and ran over to her.

Not about to be outdone by a tiny dog, Aron got to his feet. The waters of Queens Crescent lay before him. He had no choice but to dive right in.