Sollicitant
Graeme rang me at the office today—he must have got the number off my mate. He was really concerned about me, said he’d rung half a dozen times last night but decided I’d turned the phone off. Said he’d have done the same, which was an odd remark to make. He wants to meet tonight, straight after work. Says we need to talk.
I suppose he wants an explanation and I suppose I owe him one, running out like Cinderella when he’d gone to the trouble of putting together such a cracking meal. Guess I’ll have to bite the bullet, although whether I’ll stick to the food poisoning story or make up some other c**k and bull tale, I’m not sure.
He said he’d told his mum and dad what had happened—oh joy—and they were worried about me, too. Apparently they’d “clicked” with me straight off (c
