Page 33 of The Best of Times

Jane Nelson???

Aron gripped the arm of the chair he had been lazing around in.

Jesus fuck, what does she want? And how did she get my number?

“Aron?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of me…”

“The Chair of the British Library Board?” Aron stammered. “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

“That’s good. It will save us a lot of time.”

Jane sounded so friendly. Aron instantly warmed to her.

“How did you get my number?”

“Easier than you’d think. Let’s say we have some friends in common. I saw on Instagram that you’re in London at the moment.”

Jane Nelson followed him on Instagram? How had he not noticed?Social media had never really been his thing. Still, he wasn’t averse to the odd selfie here and there. He’d posted a few since he’d been home. Mainly as a reminder to Calvin that he was actually away and couldn’t respond to the ridiculous amount of emails he’d been sending. Getting back to work would be fun.

“It’s my grandmother’s wedding so I came home to help her. Not that she really needs me but anyway, yes I’m here.”

He’d started rambling. Something he always did when nervous.

Try to be cool for fuck’s sake.

“How lovely. I’m sure she’s very grateful. I understand that you must be very busy and I’m being cheeky. I wondered if you could find time to join me for coffee?”

His heart raced.

“Of course. I would love it.”

Stop squeaking.

“That’s wonderful. How about Thursday at ten? I’ll message you the details.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’m so pleased. I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time. Until Thursday then.”

“Until Thursday.”

He terminated the call and stared up at the ceiling. What on earth did Jane Nelson have to talk to him about over coffee?Aron glanced at the garden once again. Gone were the memories of being a little boy. He’d never felt more grown-up in his life.

Then he remembered. He had Granny’s hen do on Thursday as well. It was going to be quite a day.He would keep this tohimself for the time being. He should suss out Jane’s intentions before letting certain people’s imaginations run riot. Still this could be something very interesting indeed.

Later that day he found himself in the Professor’s house. He had come bearing bad news. Granny had partially rejected the hamper idea.

“What does she want as well?” Paul asked.

“She likes the idea of a keepsake.”

Paul scrubbed his face with his hands.

“I get that,” he said. “Fucking hell, she’s exacting, isn’t she?”