Page 47 of After Felix
Andrew settles back, resigned.
I wish I could be as sanguine. The truth is that I’d have come to the hospital and stayed, regardless of any fault, because this is Max. The thought makes me cross.
With perfect timing, Max appears with his arm in a sling, wheeled by a nurse.
We get up and follow as she pushes him into a cubicle. After giving us a smile, she vanishes.
“What did they say?” I ask, sitting on one of the chairs.
“They reckon it’s just a fracture,” Max says casually. “Apparently they’re going to put a cast on it.”
“I am sorry,” I say awkwardly.
Max just laughs. Andrew eyes him disbelievingly, but this is Max all over. Easygoing and charming and stoical.
“I still can’t believe I hit you with a car,” I say. “You’re going to send me round the bend eventually, Max. I’ll be as mad as a hatter.”
Max laughs again. “Well, in my defense I didn’t realise you were coming. I’d have made sure to welcome you properly if I had.”
The innuendo is clear in his voice and Andrew looks curiouslybetween the two of us. I sigh. “Try and answer your phone,” I advise. “Zeb’s been trying to get hold of you for ages.”
“I was writing,” he protests.
I roll my eyes. “And thus life stops.”
“You’re a thriller writer aren’t you now?” Andrew asks.
Max barely shoots him a glance in response. He seems to be actively trying to pretend Andrew isn’t here.
“Yes,” I insert quickly. “He’s a bestselling author. Crime and mystery. ”
“That’s nice,” Andrew says.
Max snorts.
Silence falls and then I stir. “I’m surprised that your young man of the moment wasn’t around to whisk you to hospital,” I say waspishly. “Aren’t they normally hanging about your house in their underwear?”
“Not likely,” Max says primly. “That would send my heating bills sky high.” When I snort and shake my head, he leans closer. “There aren’t any men, young or otherwise,” he says quietly.
Andrew’s eyebrows rise. He’s obviously straining to hear every word.
“Oh really?” I scoff. “Pull the other one. It’s got bells on it.”
“I hope they play a nice tune, then, because it’s true.”
More silence falls. Uncomfortable, I grasp for something to say. “Did you know where the term mad as a hatter comes from?”
Max sits back with a wry smile on his face. “Is it something to do withAlice in Wonderland?”
“No, it’s from the hatting industry in Bedfordshire. They used mercury in the felt and it led to symptoms of dementia amongst the workers.”
“Really?” Max’s eyes light with interest.
I used to love to come up with these facts when we were together, because he soaked them up like a sponge. I think I was inspired by Zeb, who seems to know everything.
Andrew laughs and, leaning over, ruffles my hair. “You and your little stories,” he says in his usual patronising manner.
“I like them,” Max says, glaring at Andrew and then smiling at me.
