If they liked you—and, I remembered, Raymond and I had agreed that we were pals now—then, it seemed,
they were prepared to maintain contact, even if you were sad, or upset, or behaving in very challenging ways.
This was something of a revelation.
I wondered if that’s what it would be like in a family—if you had parents, or a sister, say, who would be there, no matter what.
It wasn’t that you could take them for granted, as such—heaven knows, nothing can be taken for granted in this life—
it was simply that you would know, almost unthinkingly, that they’d be there if you needed them, no matter how bad things got.
I’m not prone to envy, as a rule, but I must confess I felt a twinge when I thought about this.
Envy was a minor emotion, however, in comparison to the sorrow I felt at never having a chance to experience this...
what was it? Unconditional love, I supposed. But there was no use in crying over spilled milk.
Raymond had shown me a little of what it must be like, and I counted myself lucky to have had the opportunity.
Today, he’d arrived with a box of After Eight mints and, improbably, a helium-filled balloon.
“I know it’s daft,” he said, smiling, “but I was passing the market in the square,
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