Rachel could not believe that she let Henry guilt her into a dinner date. She wished she had a friend who would call her on her cell phone with a fake emergency fifteen minutes into the date so that she could get out of it. Then she would permanently block his number and avoid him in town, like the plague whenever she was at the pub. No such luck. Her only two “friends” were Beatrice and Faye. She felt like this was not a favor she could request of a septuagenarian landlady or a manager, even though she had neither before.
Henry came to pick Rachel up by the end of the day so that he would have time to park and walk up the stairs to her private entrance. Oh how she wished it was someone else, anyone else, especially even Arthur.