Raymond’s face looked like Glen’s did the time she noticed that I’d seen her trying and failing to jump from the sofa to the windowsill.
I laughed. “We’re embarrassing you!” I said. “No, you’re embarrassing you,” he said, “rabbiting away about nothing like a proper pair of old biddies.
Anyone want some more tea?” He reached forward for the teapot, and I saw he was smiling.
The Gibbons were easy, pleasant company.
We were all slightly surprised at how quickly time had passed when the prebooked taxi honked its horn in irritation an hour later, I think,
and their departure was, by necessity, somewhat rushed.
“Your turn to come to me next time, Eleanor,” she said, as they struggled out of the door with the walking frame,
Raymond shrugging on his jacket at the same time.
I nodded. She kissed me quickly on the cheek, the scarred one, and I didn’t even flinch.
“Come again with Raymond one Sunday, have your tea, stay for a while,” she whispered. I nodded again.
Raymond lumbered past me, then, before I could do anything about it, leaned in and kissed me on the cheek like his mother had done.
“See you at work,” he said, and he was off, manhandling both her and her wheels down the stairs in a very precarious fashion.
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