that I was desperately sorry, that I admired him for caring so much about Hazel and Lois and looking after them,
that I understood, perhaps more than most, about loss, about how difficult things must be, and would continue to be.
However much you loved someone, it wasn’t always enough. Love alone couldn’t keep them safe...
“Thanks, Eleanor,” he said gently. He thanked me! Raymond arrived and threw himself into his seat.
“All right, mate?” he asked Mikey. “How’s Hazel doing?” “Not bad, Raymond, not bad. I’ll get you a menu.”
After he’d left, I leaned forward. “You knew already about Hazel?” I said.
He nodded. “It’s shite, isn’t it? She’s not even thirty, and wee Lois isn’t two yet.”
He shook his head. Neither of us spoke—there really wasn’t anything else to say.
Once we had ordered, Raymond cleared his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you, Eleanor.
It’s more bad news—sorry.” I sat back in my chair, and looked up at the ceiling, readying myself.
“Go on,” I said. There’s very little in life that I couldn’t imagine, or brace myself for.
Nothing could be worse than what I’ve already experienced—that sounds like hyperbole,
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