It was, to the visible relief of us both, a painless if somewhat tedious process.
“Right then,” he said, “that’s done, thank Christ. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?
It’s a bit soon to get into specifics, I know,” he said.
“We can meet again tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to get up to speed with everything, if you like?”
“The Christmas lunch,” I said, “is it all arranged now?” He screwed up his little round face, and swore in a most uncherubic fashion.
“I totally forgot about that!” he said. “There were so many other things to sort out, and it just kind of, I don’t know, slipped off my radar. Shit...”
“Fear not, Bob,” I said. “I shall address it posthaste.” I paused. “I mean, after I’ve caught up with all the accounts, of course.”
Bob looked worried. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to put any extra pressure on you, Eleanor—
you’re just back, and I’m sure you’ll have more than enough on your plate...”
“No problemo, Bob,” I said confidently, giving him a double thumbs-up sign,
thereby trying out a favorite phrase and gesture of Raymond’s for the first time.
Bob’s eyebrows shot up. I hoped I had used them correctly, and in the appropriate context.
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