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| Aubeterre |
Jason handed Eleanor and Graeme a
glass of champagne and gave Keith a glass of red from the bottle he’d brought.
“Cheers! Thank you for coming, Graeme. It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, Jason. And I’m glad to meet so many fans. Of both my authorships!”
“We’re very pleased to have you
here. Did you have to come far?” asked
Eleanor.
“Oh, no, I’m practically a
neighbour. Just 3 or 4 tram stops
along.”
“Melbourne so civilised with trams and
pavement cafés I approve so European,” said Lucasta, sipping her champagne.
“When I first came here it struck me
as a southern European city with the plane trees and the boulevards and
pavement cafés and everywhere Greeks and Italians and Lebanese. I love it.”
Jason glanced at his grandmother, wondering if she got the subtext.
“And,” she said,” putting her hand on
his arm, “you’ve been happy here.”
Oh.
Yes, she understood.
“Better than I would have been
anywhere else. Except perhaps
Aubeterre.”
“Where?” asked Esmé.
“Aubeterre.” In the south of France. South-ish.
Not too far from Bordeaux. It
where my former nanny lives. She’s
French. But, although they’re very
accepting there I don’t know that I’d’ve made friends as quickly as I have
here. And yeah, I think about Brent a
lot and I miss him like stink but having you two helps me better than
anything.” On impulse he leaned over and
kissed Esmé’s cheek and then Keith’s.
Esmé smelled nice of a scent he didn’t recognise and Keith smelled of
Keith. He started to get a fatty but was
surprised when he realised that he wasn’t sure whether it was because of Keith
or Esmé. Or both.
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