In the lobby, he turned toward the stairs, where his office was located. “See you soon, yeah?” he said. “Take care.”
He actually sounded like he meant both; that he would indeed see me soon, and that he wished me to take care of myself.
I felt a warmth inside, a cozy, glowy feeling like hot tea on a cold morning. “Take care yourself, Raymond,” I said, and I meant it.
That evening, I had planned to relax with a cup of Bovril and listen to a very interesting radio program about South American politics,
after completing my usual checks on what Johnnie Lomond was up to.
He’d sent a desultory tweet about a character in a television program
and posted a photograph on Facebook of a new pair of boots he wanted.
A slow news day, then. Hearing from Mummy on a Monday was an unexpected, unwelcome surprise.
“Eleanor, darling. Not our usual time to talk, I know, but I was thinking about you.
Just wanted to say hello, see how you were getting on, you know the sort of thing.”
I was silent, shocked by the unscheduled intrusion into my evening.
“Well?” she said. “I’m waiting, darling...” I cleared my throat.
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