‘I’ll give you some money,’ he said.
Rita clasped her hands together and shook her head emphatically.
‘Oh no,’ she protested. ‘I didn’t mean.’
Oh dear, I’ve offended him, thought Rita.
‘It can stay on a bit longer,’ she said.
Henry wrapped the blanket around his shivering body and marvelled at how everything in the bedsit smelt of bluebells.
‘I did think of all the ways you could help,’ said Henry. ‘As I walked here I went over everything in my head. I have to find out what happened to me and I don’t see how I can do that on my own. Not if no one can see me.’
Rita’s shoulders ached with tension. She waited on Henry’s every word. She could see his dilemma.
‘Will you help me?’ he asked.
‘I can’t go and see a psychic,’ she said breathlessly. She would do everything she could to help but she daren’t risk going somewhere like that.
‘Good heavens no,’ smiled Henry. ‘What would be the point of that?’
Rita’s shoulders relaxed.
‘How can I help then?’ she asked.
‘I thought you could speak to Imogen but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She might call the police or something.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Rita, relieved.
Henry finished his hot chocolate and laid his head back against Rita’s cosy sofa.
‘I think I need to sleep on that,’ he said.
Rita’s face turned red.
‘I’ll stay on this sofa if that’s alright?’ he asked, looking into her eyes.
Rita’s eyes melted into his. He seemed more handsome than ever and he needed her. No one had ever needed Rita before. All the same, it caused a bit of a problem. How was she supposed to get ready for bed? She supposed she could change in the bathroom but even then, she’d still have to come back and Henry would then see her in her nightie. That wouldn’t do. She’d have to keep her dressing gown on. It would be a bit hot though, especially if Henry wanted the heater kept on. Goodness, thought Rita, I hope he doesn’t. Maybe she should take some money from him after all. But it was surely a bit risky taking money from a man. It was not the thing to do. Men expected all sorts when you took money from them.
‘I have to get to bed,’ she said shyly.
Henry looked embarrassed.
‘Oh yes, of course,’ he said flustered. ‘I erm …’
‘You can sleep on the sofa,’ she said. ‘The bathroom is on the landing.’
‘Splendid,’ nodded Henry.
Rita found herself wondering if Henry had found the need for a toilet.
‘I’ll go and get ready then,’ she said, standing up.
‘Yes,’ said Henry.
How strange, Rita thought again. Who’d have thought Henry Booker Frazer would have been staying the night in my bedsit.
Chapter Twenty-Six
