The next morning, Monday, he met Eleanor Cumberledge as he was making tea for breakfast in the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mrs Cumberledge!”
“Good morning Jason. How are you?”
“Very well, thank you! And how are you, Mrs Cumberledge?”
“Fine, thank you. Did you sleep well?”
He had no intention of going into the details of his dreams which had been a mixture of the erotic and the terrifying, sometimes at the same time. “I'm sorry Bolt made such a noise when I came home,” he apologised. “I hope you aren't kept awake all night afterwards.”
“Oh, no.” But she was a bit vague, from which Jason deduced that he did in fact wake her.
“I've used some of your tea. I'll buy some of my own this morning.”
“Not at all!” she said warmly. “Don't worry about it.”
But Jason felt he ought to. He didn't know how much money she had, and obviously, if she had to rent out a room, probably not too much. “Where's a good place to buy groceries, Mrs Cumberledge?”
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