then sealed them in an envelope. I knew Raymond would have found them already himself,
but it was important to me that I did the searching. It was my history and no one else’s. No one else alive, at any rate.
As requested, he’d joined me in the café, so that I wasn’t alone when I read them for the first time.
I’d tried to cope alone for far too long, and it hadn’t done me any good at all.
Sometimes you simply needed someone kind to sit with you while you dealt with things.
“I feel like a spy or something,” said Raymond, looking at the sealed envelope that lay between us.
You’re completely unsuited to a career in espionage,” I told him. He raised his eyebrows.
“Your face is too honest,” I said, and he smiled. “Ready then?” he said, serious now. I nodded.
The envelope was a buff manila self-sealing A4, which I had purloined from the office stationery cupboard.
The paper had come from there too. I felt slightly guilty about it, especially since Bob, I knew now,
had to factor this sort of thing into his running costs. I opened my mouth to tell Raymond about the stationery budget,
but he nodded toward the envelope encouragingly, and I realized that I could delay matters no further.
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