Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The gym was deserted. Aron ran on one treadmill while Mercury walked very fast on another. Repetitive dance music boomed out of huge speakers. It was like being at a rave after the fire alarm had gone off.

“When I offered you to come with me to the gym, I didn’t mean eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. Nick thinks I’ve lost my mind,” Mercury said breathlessly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. I’m doing wedding jobs with Paul all day and wanted to fit a workout in.”

Mercury grinned. “Making sure you’re as buff as can be. I like your style.”

“Here we go. I had Alexander interrogating me last night. Honestly, it’s ancient history. A pandemic affair. If you like.”

“Sure.”

“Doesn’t hurt to let him have a few regrets though.”

They burst out laughing.

“Talk to me about anything else,” Aron said, wiping his forehead with a towel.

“I suppose you should be grateful to him. Now you’ve got a dream life in New York. The joke is firmly on him, my friend.”

A dream life in New York? He supposed it did look like that to an outsider.

Appearances can be deceptive.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Want to try that again?”

Aron hit the Walk button to match Mercury’s pace. Nagging doubts that he’d been trying to ignore were now fighting to become words.

“I do love it there,” he began. “Don’t get me wrong.”

“No one keeping you warm at night, then?”

Aron shook his head. “Not for a while. I get offers though.”

Mercury frowned. “Are you sure you’re over Paul? The way he fucked off like that was pretty brutal.”

It had hurt like hell at the time.

“I have no desire to be burnt twice. Honestly. We’re talking about him again.”

“Sorry. So New York getting past its sell by date?”

“I’m not saying that. I need a change in my life. I’ve plateaued a bit.”

Mercury chuckled. “Be careful what you wish for. I’ve got myself embroiled in far more than I bargained for recently.”

“And you bloody love it. I can see it written all over your face. I want that.”

“That lovelorn expression is put there by a certain man and you’re not getting one crumb of him. Yes, I’m now monogamous. Ugh.”

Aron shoved him playfully. “Disgusting. Right, we’ve time for a quick jacuzzi. You can tell me all about it. In detail.”

Aron checked himself out in the hall mirror. It had taken a few different options before he’d found the perfect outfit to report for his first day of wedding planning duties. He thought he scrubbed up pretty well in a tight striped jumper, black chinos and long wool coat. His dark hair flicked over to the side. Today he’d foregone his usual contact lenses and opted for glasses.

Who’s putting up a shield?

“You look very handsome.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping that you might have a hot vicar for me. I quite like the idea of being a vicar’s wife.”

Granny came down the stairs. Parkin followed like a missile and made straight for Aron, who instantly fussed him.

“I’m afraid we’re having a humanist ceremony.”

“Don’t they have vicars?”

“Celebrants and I’m not sure she’s your type. Never mind, no doubt Paul will appreciate such a striking outfit choice.”

Heat swept over him and he instantly regretted wearing the sweater.

“You’re not turning out so bad yourself,” he blurted out. “Off somewhere?”

She had on a dusky pink trouser suit. All her life she had made glamour seem so effortless.

“Yes. I’ve got the Queens Parade Committee Christmas lunch. Could you deliver this young man to the Professor? He’s promised to mind him.”

Queens Parade was a small shopping street around the corner from the crescent. His grandmother considered herself the leader of both enclaves and probably everywhere in between.

“At this hour? It’s not ten yet. Bit early for lunch, isn’t it?”

To his amazement a whisper of a blush appeared on Granny’s cheeks.

Now that is a first.

“If you must know, I have an appointment at the lingerie shop.”

Aron stopped dead.

Please let the ground swallow me whole. I surrender.

She evidently found his discomfort highly amusing. “You did ask.”

“I suppose I did. Can we not talk about it further?”

“I think that’s best.”

Once they were both satisfied with their appearances, they left the house. The weather had improved. The clouds were a much lighter grey.

“Where’s the snow?” Aron said. “I wanted a proper Dickensian Christmas.”

“I get enough of Charles Dickens, thank you.”

“He was a master.”

“So you all say. No snow for me. I don’t want to risk another tumble.”

Even if the accident had happened in the most unusual of circumstances, Aron didn’t like to see his grandmother injured. It reminded him of the fragility of old age. Even for Beatrice Wimpole.

“Now have a wonderful day,” Granny said. “And get lots of things done. And don’t bicker. Oh, and tell Philip I’ll be round for Parkin later. I want to drop my shopping off first.”

She shoved him gently toward the Professor’s house.

Aron walked up the stairs and rang the bell.

When Paul opened the door, he almost took Aron’s breath away. He had on a light denim shirt and olive cargo pants. As usual his shoulder-length hair sat perfectly tousled.

Why were some people effortlessly gorgeous and for others it was an hour-long process?

“Bang on time,” Paul said, leaning against the doorframe.

He grinned, instantly making Aron’s legs go wobbly.

You sexy bastard.

He had to maintain focus. There would not be a repeat of their earlier encounter.

Parkin let out a yap, bringing Aron back to the present.

“Can we come in?” Aron asked. “It’s bloody freezing.”

“Of course.”

Paul stood away. Aron sauntered past him.

The smell of Paul’s citrus cologne reminded him of times spent in bed, talking rubbish for hours.

He refused to be derailed and carried on into the Professor’s lounge. There was no sign of the man himself.

“Where’s your father?”

“Upstairs. He’s finishing a piece for The New York Times or something.”

Aron unclipped Parkin’s lead. “Go on, boy,” he said. “Find your new daddy.”

Parkin evidently knew the lay of the land in the house as he shot straight upstairs. Aron sank onto the sofa.

“I didn’t realise I’d have to share my father now,” Paul said. “Drink?”

“No thanks. We haven’t got time. Have you seen our list? Granny keeps adding to it. We’ll be half dead by the time she walks up the aisle.”

Paul sat down next to him. Very close. He had absolutely no need to do that. Aron was wedged against the arm now so escape was not an option.

Fuck it’s warm in here.

“Have no fear,” Paul said, gazing at him. “We always did work well together.”

Aron stared directly into Paul’s eyes. “Is that why you fucked off to Iran?”

Paul sighed. “I told you.”

“Yes. It was for Vogue .”

“What can I say? I treated you badly. For that, I apologise. I truly do.”

The room had become claustrophobic. Aron wanted to be out of there and focusing on anything other than past mistakes.

“I suppose I’ll have to accept your apology.”

“Good. Because we’re going to be family soon.”

Aron laughed. “Family? We both know that’s a hit-and-miss affair for me.”

“Still no better?”

A lump formed in Aron’s throat.

“A topic I have no intention of discussing with you. Grab your coat. We’re going shopping.”

Hot on Granny’s heels, they found themselves on Queens Parade. The last time Aron had been in the vicinity, it had been a dull row of shops. Now it was stunning. The pavements were immaculate and the types of shops screamed tourism. There was a chocolate shop, a homewares shop and even a health food shop.

“Wow,” he said. “This place has changed.”

“Hasn’t it just?” Paul replied. “Do you ever feel like you’ve been away longer than two years.”

“You haven’t been back then?”

Paul shrugged. “Flying visits. I’ve been really busy since the pandemic. It’s nice to be travelling again. I don’t think I’ll ever take it for granted.”

Of course, Paul had resumed his flitting around. Aron had followed his adventures on social media. He’d tried to ignore him. Something always kept him coming back to Paul’s profiles. Usually late at night after yet another bottle of wine.

“I hadn’t really planned on coming here,” Aron said. “Do you think we’ll get much of the list done?”

“I have one off-list task to do,” Paul replied. “Then I’m all yours.”

“Lucky me.”

“Come on, sourpuss,” Paul said, taking his hand. “I’m sure you’ll know the shop I want to go to.”

They walked past a tattoo parlour.

“Wow,” Aron said. “I’m surprised Granny allowed this to open.”

“From all accounts, your grandmother is very open-minded these days.”

Aron chuckled. “Don’t even go there. Did you know she’s in the lingerie shop as we speak?”

Paul covered his ears. “I did not know that nor did I want to.”

“If I have to suffer, so do you.”

They both roared with laughter. It was nice to be sharing a joke with Paul.

I mustn’t let my guard down. This is not a social activity.

Paul stopped. One shop that had survived the gentrification of Queens Parade stood proudly in front of them. The old bookshop, A Novel Idea .

“Oh wow,” Aron said. “Is it still run by Jolyon?”

Paul nodded. He pulled the old door open. Instantly a bell rang as they walked inside. Aron inhaled. There was nothing quite like the smell of a musty old bookshop. Especially one in London. They held such promise amongst their shelves.

It all appeared very haphazard but Aron knew better. Jolyon Whittaker had owned this shop for twenty-five years and he would know every single tome in stock.

“Be right with you,” came a familiar voice from the back of the shop.

Aron browsed. He’d visited this treasure trove many times over the years. He smiled when he remembered his first visit. A surly teenager who had got talking to a neighbour about Oliver Twist. This man had opened up a whole world to Aron. Now Aron was about to become this man’s step-grandson. His eyes welled at the beauty of it.

In no time, Jolyon appeared. He must be in his early fifties by now and as handsome as ever. Aron had had the biggest crush on him as a teenager. Then when he’d hit his twenties, they’d had one night together.

Jolyon stopped dead in his tracks. “Aron Wimpole. Now this is a blast from the past. How are you doing? Ah and Mr Higgs. Will you be stepbrothers soon?”

Aron didn’t even try to fight the grin. “Actually, Paul will be my step-uncle.”

Paul instantly bristled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Oh I had.”

He carried on inspecting books. This was the kind of shop that he could spend a serious amount of money in. He might champion the cause of libraries, but that didn’t mean Aron had conquered his book buying addiction. His apartment in New York was bursting at the seams. One day he might read them all. Yet this seemed increasingly unlikely with the amount he kept purchasing.

“So very good to see you, Aron,” Jolyon said. “You look well indeed.”

Judging by the way Jolyon scanned him, he remembered the night of fun they’d had together too just as vividly as Aron did.

“Thanks,” Aron said. “You do too. Still the most handsome bookseller in London, I see.”

Jolyon made a face. “Of course. At your service.”

“Erm, Mr Whittaker,” Paul interjected, “I’ve come to pick up my order.”

“Ah yes,” Jolyon said, tearing his eyes away from Aron. “It took quite a few favours but I’ve got it. One second.”

He went into the back again.

“You two are very well acquainted,” Paul said.

The tone in his voice was pure jealousy.

I love it.

“You know me and books,” Aron replied, mock innocently. “They do strange things to me.”

“Have you and him…?”

“What?”

“You know.”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

Paul opened his mouth to form a reply but was silenced by Jolyon coming in carrying something like a fragile newborn.

“Here it is,” he said, laying it carefully on the counter.

He unwrapped the tissue paper. Aron’s legs almost buckled beneath him.

“Is that what I think it is?” he blurted out.

Jolyon nodded. “A first edition of Nicholas Nickleby . It’s the original publisher’s binding of the instalments that Dickens released. You can even see the stab holes where they brought them together.”

This had to be worth thousands of pounds.

“Why?” Aron asked.

“It’s my father’s wedding present from me,” Paul said. “I wanted something special.”

They all leant over to examine it.

“I daren’t even breathe,” Aron said. “It’s stunning.”

Not even the New York Public Library had this version. It was an exceptionally generous gift. What Aron wouldn’t give to have that on his shelves at home.

“There’s some paperwork,” Jolyon said. “I’ll go and get it. Don’t go running off with this. I’ll know where to find you.”

Once more he disappeared into the back.

“Your dad is going to love this,” Aron said. “Since when have you been so generous?”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’ve both learnt something about each other this morning. What will the rest of the day hold?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t know you had such a past.”

The cheeky sod had some nerve passing judgement on Aron.

“Are you a teensy bit jealous, Paul? I’m sure you have a man in every location. Isn’t that why you flit all over the world?”

Paul sighed. “Hardly. As you said, I’m pushing fifty now.”

“I always did like an older man. For all the good it did me.”

They exchanged a glance.

“You should probably get this sorted,” Aron said hurriedly. “I’ll pop up the road and get Granny some chocolates. Shall we meet on the corner by The Swan pub?”

An amused Paul nodded.

Aron fled the shop and into the cool air. He’d never been any good at playing the nonchalant man about town pretending he didn’t care what had happened between hm and Paul.

The plain fact was he did care. And being in such close proximity to Paul made that all the more obvious.