Raymond joined me in the kitchen, leaning against the work top while he watched me pour. He placed a carrier bag next to me.
“It’s nothing much,” he said. I peered inside. There was a white cardboard box, from a bakery, tied with ribbon.
There was also a tiny tin of “gourmet” cat food. “How lovely!” I said, delighted.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, didn’t want to come empty-handed...” Raymond said, blushing.
“I thought, well... you seem like the kind of person who likes nice things,” he said, looking up at me.
“You deserve to have nice things,” he said firmly. This was strange.
I must confess I was somewhat lost for words for a moment or two. Did I deserve nice things?
“It’s funny, you know, Raymond,” I said. “Growing up with Mummy was very disorientating.
Sometimes she gave us nice things, other times... not. I mean, one week we’d be dipping quail eggs in celery salt and shucking oysters,
the next we’d be starving. I mean, you know, literally, deprived of food and water,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Everything was always extreme, so extreme, with her,” I said, nodding to myself.
I used to long for normal. You know, three meals a day, ordinary stuff—tomato soup, mashed potatoes, cornflakes...
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색