Raymond eventually clambered out of a minicab at quarter past seven, just when I was on the verge of leaving.
“Hiya, Eleanor!” he said, full of good cheer. He was clutching a clinking carrier bag and a bunch of cheap carnations.
Laura had specifically told us not to bring anything. Why had he ignored her polite request?
“Raymond, the invitation was for 7 p.m.,” I said. “We arranged to meet here at 6:50 p.m., and we are now inexcusably late on account of your tardiness.
It’s very disrespectful to our hostess!I could not bear to look at him.
Inexplicably, he laughed. “Chill, Eleanor,” he said. I mean, really. Chill!
No one ever goes to a party on time. It’s ruder to do that than to be fifteen minutes late, believe me.
He looked me up and down. “You look nice,” he said. “Different...
I did not appreciate this crass attempt to change the subject.
“Shall we go?” I said, quite curtly. He ambled along beside me, smoking as usual.
“Eleanor,” he said, “honestly, don’t stress about it. When people say seven o’clock, they mean, like, seven thirty, earliest.
We’ll probably be the first people there!” I was thrown by this. “But why?” I said.
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