Original Fiction: You’re Invited by Iseult Murphy

One moment Hamish stood in the bus depot admiring the ruby engagement ring Morris had purchased for his girl, and the very next he was squashed into the back seat of a vehicle, surrounded by people dressed in eveningwear, the countryside hurtling past the window.

“Crumbs.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first, Grampy Morris.”

Hamish opened his mouth to protest when the tuxedoed man sitting beside him rested his hand on his shoulder. Before a string of expletives burst forth, an attractive blonde in the passenger seat, gussied up in silk and lace, turned around seat and barked at Hamish’s assailant.

“He’s not Grampy Morris yet, he hasn’t even proposed to Grammy Sheila in his timeline.”

A brunette leaned around the tuxedoed man and winked at Hamish.

“Grampy Morris is cute.”

Silk and lace harrumphed.

Hamish noticed he still had Morris’s ruby engagement ring clutched in his right hand.

“You must be wondering what’s going on,” the tuxedoed man said. “George, that’s your grandson…”

“Great grandson. Gawd.” Silk and lace crossed her arms.

“Sorry, great grandson. Anyway, George is getting married today and you know how much family means to him. He’s invited all his relatives, five generations back, and we were charged with collecting you.”

Silk and lace huffed. “Of course, Steven had to leave it until the last minute. He’s still in his bus driver’s uniform, for goodness sake.”

Hamish was about to let them know he was the conductor, Morris was the driver, when Steven patted him on his shoulder again.

“Don’t worry, we have a tux for you in the boot. You’ll have time to change at the venue before the wedding.”

“Your party exploits are legendary.” The brunette winked at Hamish again, and licked her lips in a way that made him blush.

“I dinna ken what yer on aboot, but I’ll nae turn doon an invite to a knees up.”

“I didn’t know Grampy Morris was Scottish,” Steven said.

“You transported the wrong man?” Silk and lace threw up her hands. “That’s what you get with only an A level in magic, Steven.”

“Well, it’s too late to try again now.” The man driving the car caught Hamish’s eye in the rear view mirror. “For the next couple of days, you are Grampy Morris.”

Hamish shrugged. “Soonds good ta me.”