Old-Fashioned, or Another Story With Ghosts

Chapter 18. The theatre season is boring and tiramisu wins over crocodiles

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James smiled brightly standing up to help Greg with the chair at his usual place. Greg never noticed it was at James' right hand. Their guest  raised the brow coughing from his left side.

Not like anyone payed much attention to his coughs, though. 

James returned at his seat taking the napkin. "I am sorry indeed, dear Gregory. Glad to introduce you my old classmate Sir Montgomery Hovers. We were together in Oriel."

"It's a college. In Oxford. Charmed." Monty almost spitted it out. Gregory smiled and nodded shyly.

"Montgomery, this is my friend Gregory Bay, a talented artist."

"Are you? Could I see your works somewhere?"

Greg glanced towards James. James had tiny wrinkles in the corner of his right eye, and a double birthmark on his temple. It was reassuring somehow. So he took his own napkin before meeting the Montgomery lad's gaze.

Or Sir Montgomery. Lad.

"Do you enjoy contemporary art, sir?"

"Ah, one of these... what's wrong with classic art these days?"

The food magically appeared in front of them. Greg thought he would totally change the dinner routine if he was James.

James cut his salmon steak. "Nothing at all, Monty. How do you like the fish?"

"Delicious. You used to have more sophisticated tastes, though. In everything." Montgomery lad smiled shovelling some rice from his plate into the mouth. His smile reminded Greg the picture in a Kipling book in his family house. There was a crocodile on that picture, and it was eating a baby elephant's trunk after convincing him to put it in the river. And it was smiling, that crocodile.

Shite with 'im, aye?!

"James has excellent taste in everything, sir. I mean, Lord Blacke. The library is amazing, the choice of art books is great. It's pure luck for me to take the slightest look at it. And at Dürer's drawings, of course." Okay, Greg was angry. And hungry, and nervous, and felt like shite, including his stomach aching after a few hours on coffee with milk and a protein bar. High in carbs protein bar. So he was ready to kill for James.

But the crocodile wasn't an amateur in... crocodiling. So he smiled even wider. "Speaking of which! Prey, tell me, how did your astonishing acquaintance happen? I keep wondering."

Greg's fingers started shaking again. Thanks God - or Wilkins - the dish was not simply delicious, but the easiest to manage. Greg would exterminate trice of the portion. And kiss Wilkins after.

"Gregory saved me from a ghost, didn't you, my dear?" James sipped his wine. It was true, just not the whole true, wasn't it? And what James did learn mostly at school was the art of converting the truth in a palatable way, and, as far as everybody was concerned, was quite good in it.

"Must be an extremely romantic story."

"James thinks our ancestors could have met and even were involved in some kind of a romantic relationship." Greg did not notice the name slipping out again. 

"How curious." Monty finished his glass and poured another one. "I have never thought your family invited any Scottish help."

James put the fork down. "Montgomery." Gregory looked at him, eyes terrified, and for a moment James was sure he was going to faint. Definitely not a time for one more scene. Monty's dumb luck. "I... what led you to this God forgotten countryside, anyway?"