There really is no excuse for being unprepared. I had already gone to Marks & Spencer before meeting him,
and had purchased some choice items there, including a tub of pumpkin seeds.
I suspected Sammy was in dire need of zinc. Raymond came out swinging a carrier bag.
In the lift, he opened it and showed me what he’d bought. “Haribo, the Evening Times, big tub of sour cream and chive Pringles.
What more could a man ask for, eh?” he said, looking quite proud of himself.
I did not dignify this with a response. We paused at the ward entrance; Sammy’s bed was surrounded by visitors.
He saw us and beckoned us over. I looked around, but the stern nurse with the stripy socks was nowhere to be seen.
Sammy was reclining regally on a mound of pillows, addressing the assembled throng.
Eleanor, Raymond—great to see you! Come and meet the family!
This is Keith—the kiddies are at home with their mum—and this is Gary and Michelle, and this”
he indicated a blond woman who was texting with impressive focus on her mobile telephone—“is my daughter Laura.”
I was aware of everyone smiling and nodding, and then they were shaking our hands, slapping Raymond’s back.
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