“Why not?” I said. “Laura’s very glamorous.” Raymond sighed. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Eleanor, isn’t it?” he said.
“I think she’s probably a bit... high maintenance for me, if you know what I mean?”
“Not really, no,” I said. “She’s not my type, to be honest.”
He took a noisy mouthful of beer. “I mean, looks are important, of course they are,
but you’ve got to be able to have a laugh, enjoy each other’s company too, you know?
I’m not sure me and Laura have got that much in common.” I shrugged, not knowing how best to respond.
It was hardly my area of expertise. We were silent for a moment.
He was looking terribly pale and uncomfortable. Classic hangover symptoms.
Thankfully I never suffered from them, blessed as I am with an iron constitution.
I ordered an omelet made by the chef, Arnold Bennett, and Raymond went for the full cooked breakfast with extra fried bread.
“Had quite a lot of Jack Daniel’s with Desi after I got home last night,” he explained. “That should soak it up.”
“Don’t make a habit of the drinks, Raymond,” I said sadly. “You don’t want to end up like me, do you?”
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