Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

When Aron had frequented Queens Parade, Club C had been the local carpet shop. Now it had earned the reputation as one of London’s premier nightspots. Apparently, the paparazzi were often filling the little street. The miraculous feat had been achieved by Rodrigo Costa, an enigmatic Portuguese man who Aron had met at the Professor’s.

When Aron went in, he hardly recognised the place. A dark wood bar ran the length of one wall. Opposite stood a small stage with a DJ setup. The fabric and the flooring all screamed money. Rodrigo had obviously spared no expense in creating the perfect venue.

It was perfect for what Aron had in mind. He hoped that Rodrigo would have availability. Like everything else with this wedding, time was of the essence.

They sat in a booth in the large, deserted room. Being in a nightclub during the day was a strange experience. The silence was deafening. A lone barman restocked the shelves while cleaners polished the brass fittings.

Aron felt that he should speak in hushed tones for some reason. Every noise appeared to be amplified.

“I’m thrilled that you’ve chosen Club C to host,” Rodrigo said. “And for such an important event.”

“I figured most of the guests will be members, so it shouldn’t be a problem on that score.”

Rodrigo waved his comment away. “For Mrs Wimpole, we won’t be too strict on the membership rule. She is a wonderful woman and deserves nothing but the best.”

Once again, a lump formed in Aron’s throat. If he was having this reaction in the run-up to the wedding, he would be a quivering mess when he watched her walk down the aisle.

“Things have changed round here since I left,” Aron said. “She’s always been a big figure. Now she’s got her own fan club.”

Rodrigo shrugged. “She has helped a lot of people. We’re simply enjoying the opportunity to pay her back in whatever way we can.”

To his shame, Aron hadn’t always listened all that intently when Granny relayed the latest drama on Queens Crescent. Now, it appeared, he had misjudged her impact.

“That’s beautiful,” he said. “I’m so pleased she has so much love around her. I don’t think I realised how much I’ve missed her.”

Rodrigo smiled. “I ran away from Lisbon because my mother can be hideously overbearing. To be Mrs Wimpole’s friend is very different to being her grandchild, I would imagine.”

Aron shook his head. “I didn’t run to New York to escape her.”

“You ran to escape, though?” Rodrigo followed this up with an intent stare.

The club became hot all of a sudden. Aron undid his top button.

“I guess I did.”

Why was it so much easier to talk to strangers?

“Have you spoken to your grandmother about it?”

“God no,” Aron replied. “She has enough on her plate at the moment to be concerned with my worries.”

Rodrigo sipped his flat white coffee and regarded Aron. “It appears to me that she’s emptied that particular plate onto yours. I’m sure she would be more than happy to listen to what is going on in your life.”

How had this turned into a family therapy session?

“I guess. Maybe if the time is right, hey? Anyway, let’s get down to business.”

The other thing Granny liked was gossip. Aron barely trusted Alexander and Mercury not to cave in under pressure. He wasn’t about to give this man any titbits that might fall into Granny’s hands. She would be all over it like a rash.

Aron was determined Granny would be his number one priority this week. No matter what Paul Higgs had to say on the matter.

“Very well. What are we going to do?”

Aron hadn’t been thinking of much else since he’d thrown down the gauntlet to Paul back at the peach temple. He would make this a night to remember. No matter what.

“The main thing is we need to beat the stags,” Aron replied.

“Ah, a little competition. I like it. What have they got planned?”

Aron made a face. “A night in The Swan was the last idea being discussed, I believe.”

“Pah,” Rodrigo said. “Then it will be no problem to win this challenge. Club C is the best club around. Even if I say so myself. Did you want a theme?”

“I think so. How about the sixties? It’s when she grew up, after all.”

“I like it. Where did she spend her childhood?”

“Right here on Queens Crescent,” Aron replied. “She’s never lived anywhere else.”

Rodrigo considered it for a second. “That explains her commitment to the place. I’ve never known anything like it. So, sixties. What kind of vibe?”

Aron was getting into the swing of things now. “Not flower power. From what I’ve heard, Granny was more likely to be found down the Kings Road rather than a commune. She’s always had a taste for the finer things in life. Let’s be honest.”

“That goes without saying. Blocks of colour. Funky geometric decorations. A band rather than a DJ? Am I on the right lines?”

“Actually, I think a DJ might be better. Granny gets quite agitated if anyone sings a Rolling Stones song other than Mick Jagger,” Aron said. “I’ll create some invitations. I want vintage outfits and glamour.”

Rodrigo’s eyes were shining. “I’ll get my barman to come up with some cocktails.”

“And mocktails,” Aron added.

“If you insist.”

“Granny might not want to get too drunk.”

Rodrigo burst out laughing. Aron frowned.

“What?”

“It appears a lot of things have changed since you went to New York.”

Aron pondered over what Rodrigo had said. When he’d been in Manhattan, he hadn’t expected things to change at Queens Crescent very much. Yet, it appeared to be the total opposite.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about random gay men knowing more about this new and improved version of Beatrice Wimpole than he did. He had been guilty of not giving her due attention.

I suppose I was blocking everything out.

His phone rang in his pocket, bringing him back to the real world. When he got it out, the caller ID said Calvin.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Sundays. Bank holidays. Annual leave. None of them had much of an impact on his boss. He supposed he should be grateful it had taken him this long to get in touch.

He pressed Answer and took a deep breath.

“Calvin? Is everything all right?”

“Did you forget you have a meeting with Mary Hilton this week? To talk about her research.”

To avoid that meeting had been a plus point of booking this annual leave.

“No,” he replied, keeping his voice steady. “Pip said he’d take it.”

“Pip wouldn’t know the difference between James Baldwin and James Joyce.”

Aron rolled his eyes. He’d cleared all this with Calvin before he’d even booked the damned leave. He was determined to make him suffer, evidently. Probably to avoid any repeat occurrences.

“It’s an exploratory meeting,” Aron said. “You know as well as I do that Mary will do most of the talking. What is the real problem?”

Calvin sighed. “Can’t you come earlier? Surely you’re bored of that freaking backwater by now.”

So that was it. The back of Aron’s head tingled with annoyance. He’d worked his arse off for this man and he still resented him spending time with his family.

“Calvin, please don’t,” he replied. “I’m catching up with people I’ve not seen in two years. I’ll be all yours in January. Then we’ll hit the ground running. I promise.”

Considering Calvin was New York born and bred, he’d probably never experienced living apart from his loved ones. Also, empathy had never been his strongest suit. When Theo’s grandmother had died, Calvin had asked him if he wanted the morning or the afternoon off for the funeral.

“Fine,” he said in a tone that suggested otherwise. “I’ve told Theo to book a working weekend in the cabin for January. We’re going to be the busiest we’ve ever been next year. I want you coming back full of ideas.”

“Sounds exciting. I’d better go.”

“Fine. Run along and do whatever it is you’re doing that’s more important than the New York Public freaking Library.”

“Happy Christmas, Calvin.”

The line went dead. Aron supposed that Calvin wouldn’t be contacting him on the big day to wish him glad tidings.

It was odd to hear from his new life whilst retracing the steps of his old one. At this point, he had no idea which he preferred. The anonymity of New York had been exhilarating at first.

Is it still?

As he turned the corner, Paul walked toward him. Paul’s face instantly broke out into a huge grin. Once more it went straight to Aron’s legs.

He was getting better at not showing it though. Instead, he put on his finest haughty expression.

“Oh, good afternoon,” he said. “And how are you this fine day?”

It was drizzling.

“I’m going to The Swan.”

Aron leant against the railings. “How very interesting. I’m coming from Club C, actually. It’s very nice inside. I suppose you’ve not seen it yet.”

“So I’ve heard,” Paul said with a glint in his eye. “Is that your venue, then?”

Aron nodded.

“Very fancy. I’m sure your grandmother will be excited. My dad says they’ve had a few good nights in there.”

Paul looked handsome as ever in a navy woollen coat and jeans. His hair appeared to still be damp from the shower. Aron thought back to the times they’d showered together. Paul Higgs naked had been a thing of beauty. He doubted very much had changed on that score.

“Morning.”

They were interrupted by local celebrity Carl Carrington walking briskly past.

“Morning,” Aron replied.

“I didn’t know he lived here,” Paul said after Carl had gone. “He’s the leader of the opposition. Word is he’ll be prime minister at the next election.”

“The more time I spend hanging around the old place, the more I realise how much it’s changed since we were last here.”

Paul looked him up and down. The intensity of the gaze made Aron hold himself that bit taller.

“I’ll say.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine. What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

Aron had tried to block the Sunday afternoon plans that had been forced upon him.

“My father is coming for an undisclosed reason.”

Instantly concern spread over Paul’s face. “Your mum isn’t coming, is she?”

Aron shook his head. “I’ve been spared.”

“When did you last see them?”

“Not since New York. Funnily enough, they’ve not bothered to visit.”

Paul exhaled. “I’m sorry. Hey, if you need a drink after, get in touch.”

Aron was taken aback. “Really?”

“Sure. We’re strangers round here, it seems. We should stick together.”

Aron saw a Mercedes arrive outside his grandmother’s. A man got out with what looked like dry cleaning. Granny stood on the steps, ordering the young man inside immediately.

“I’d better go. I have a feeling Granny’s outfit has arrived.”

Paul glanced back.

“Remember that drink offer. I might see you later.”

With that, he set off down the road. Aron watched him go.

Had he been wrong about Paul Higgs?

He shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts were not helpful. He and Paul might be on speaking terms but this was purely for the sake of the wedding. Nothing more. Nothing less.