Page 99 of The Best of Times

“Hmm,” Aron replied. “And he is a very good judge of character.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ll give you a last chance on one condition.”

Paul looked wary. “Go on.”

“Did you mention something about you being naked?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I can’t believe it’s New Year’s Eve,” Paul said as they left Granny’s house. “The last few days have gone in a heartbeat.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Aron replied.

They hit the street and Paul slung his arm around Aron’s shoulders. God he liked it when he did that.

“More fun than Sydney?” Aron asked.

“Most certainly. Then anywhere with Aron Wimpole will do me.”

Aron groaned. “We really must talk about this corny shit. Perhaps it’s an age thing…Step- Uncle Paul.”

He was rewarded with a playful swat over the head before Paul put his arm back in position.

Nihal Varma’s annual New Year’s Eve shindig was already underway as they approached. Floodlights lit up his house and those lucky enough to get an invite flocked to it like moths to a flame.

“Good of Nihal to let us use Granny and the Prof’s invite,” Aron said. “I fear we’re trying to fill very big boots.”

Music pumped from the house. Nihal and his partner, Carl, were at the door. His party had always been the place to be seen,so Nihal hired door staff. A mound of a man in a black bomber jacket was listening intently to everything Nihal was saying.

Carl waved them over.

“Come on in, you two,” he said, beaming. “I hope you have a good time and enjoy some rest. Let us deal with everything tonight. It’s only fair after putting on the wedding to end all weddings.”

Nihal finished briefing their muscle-bound protecter and joined them. He slid his arm around Carl’s waist and held him close.

“You’ll find the rest of your grandmother’s appreciation society upstairs in the drawing room,” he said, smiling. “It appears they’ve taken it over. Oh and take a bottle of fizz up. Actually, make it two. It’ll save your legs.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t have people to do that?”

Nihal clapped him on the shoulder. “Staff talk.”

He glanced at Carl. As a leading politician, Carl had to be careful. Even getting drunk at the hen do had resulted in a photo of him staggering home being printed in theEvening Standard.

They walked into the house. Of course they knew their way around with it being a carbon copy of all the other houses on the street. In the kitchen they found Simon and Rodrigo with a child who was examining the buffet very carefully.

“Good evening and a happy new year,” Aron said.

“You’re supposed to say that after midnight,” the child replied.

Simon shook his head. “Aron, Paul, meet my son, Luca. He’s going through a cheeky phase at the moment, I’m afraid.”

His words might be stern yet his face was full of love.

“Ah, Luca,” Aron said. “My granny has told me lots of things about you.”

Luca looked confused for a second then his eyes widened. “Are you Mrs Wimpole’s grandson?”