Page 56 of After Felix
“Haha,” I say sourly, enjoying his laugh when it comes. “I’m not quite that old. No, I experimented with something in my study, and it had rather a startling effect.” I stare at him and shrug. “It only blew a couple of the windows out, but Mrs Finch won’t let me forget about it. The woman has the memory of an elephant.”
“How did she come to work for you?”
I reach over the table, intending to pour myself some tea from the pot, but, witnessing my wince of pain, Felix takes over the task. I smile gratefully at him and take a sip, trying to conceal my pleasure in the fact that he’s remembered how I take it.
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” I confide. “Her sister housekeeps for the couple next door, and Mrs Finch appeared one day and sort of informed me that she considered I’d be fortunate to employ her.”
He bites his lip, and his eyes light up. They’re the colour of old pennies today and look almost translucent in the sunlight. “So, you did as she said?”
“Of course, I did,” I say, slightly offended. “You’ve just met her for Christ’s sake. If she’d announced it to Saddam Hussein, he’d have jumped too.”
Mrs Finch comes into the room at that point, interrupting his laughter and carrying my breakfast which she positions in front of me as if I’m some sort of dangerous animal. Felix’s mouth twitches, but he says nothing, and for a few minutes, the room is silent apart from the clinking of cutlery and the distant sound of the radio in the kitchen.
I relish the silence with him just as much as I do the witty chat. He has a comfortable way about him which is ironic for someone as sharp and snarky as he is. I’ve always been at ease with him, and he interests me like no one else I’ve ever met—even Ivo.
Finally, he pushes his plate away. “I’d better get dressed,” he says, and I know I’m imagining the reluctance in his voice.
“Why?” I ask, slightly panicked.
He shakes his head, looking at me chidingly. “You’re notconcussed, and apart from your arm inconveniencing you, you’ll be fine. So, I’m going back. There’s a train in an hour.” He stands.
“Wait,” I say far too loudly.
He hesitates for a moment, but then lowers himself back to the chair. I take a fortifying breath. What I’m about to do is highly risky and could quite easily backfire on me, given Felix’s temperament. But I’vegotto try because this might be my last chance.
“I need your help,” I say, leaning forward.
His eyebrows rise. “Why?”
“Well, you’ve fractured my arm.” His eyes flare, and I quickly say, “I mean, obviously it was an accident.” I pause. “Brought about by you not concentrating on your driving, to be honest.” If he could incinerate me with his eyes, I’d already be ash, but I carry on. “But despite whose fault it was, I find myself in a position where I need your help for the next couple of months.”
“Really? What for?” His voice is posh and regulated, but there’s a snap to the consonants.
“Well, I’m in the middle of writing a book, and now I find myself in a situation where I can’t type anything.”
“Dictate,” he says, snapping the word off.
I wave my hand cavalierly. “I can’t do that.”
“Why? Do you absolutelyloathethe sound of your own voice?” His sweetly poisonous tone startles a laugh out of me.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Felix. Iadorethe sound of my own voice,” I say pompously. “It brings sunshine and positivity to all the people in the world who most need it.” He rolls his eyes, and I repress a laugh. “For some reason, dictating doesn’t work. Last week I used the word fucking, and it changed everything to ducking. I mean how many times a day do I use the word ducking? It’s a fucking lot less than I say fuck.” I smile at him, and the words come quickly. They should, because I practised them for ages last night. “I have the European leg of my book tour to get through and a book to finish. I have fan letters and hundreds of emails that need answering. I need an assistant.” I pause and take an unobtrusive breath. “And I think that’s you.”
“What?” His eyes narrow dangerously.
I shrug in an unconcerned manner even though the expression he’swearing has always made my balls shrink. “Think about it, Felix. You were my brother’s assistant for years, and now you’ve maimed his sibling, you should be mine for a bit.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I carry on talking. “I’d pay you, of course, and the agency for your time, and you’d find it really easy work. I just need someone to help me now…” I give a sad, dramatic pause and a little sigh. “Now that I’m down an arm.”
His expression conveys that he’s contemplating testicular homicide. I hope it’s just a passing thought, but I cross my legs quickly, not wanting to risk it.
He taps his fingers on the table, staring at me with an inscrutable expression. I suppress the urge to fidget. “So what you’re saying is that because I ran into you, which was entirely your fault as you were lying on the ground pretending to be dead, that I now owe you duties as your very own personal assistant?” he asks coolly. “I am to look after you, answer your emails, type up your book, and organise you from one corner of Europe’s bookshops to the other.”
There’s a long silence. “Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask,” I say primly. “It’s actually the least you can do after injuring me.”
“And what does Zeb have to say about this?”
I remember Zeb’s initial four-letter-word response when I unveiled my plan last night and conceal a wince. “Oh, he thinks it’s the perfect solution,” I say airily. “Says you can have the two months off happily. Bev can handle it all, apparently. He’ll be around, and you’ll be on the other end of the line if she needs anything else. He says to pay yourself a bonus too,” I continue, making a mental note to transfer the money to Zeb before he strangles me.
I’m paraphrasing Zebveryloosely at the moment because his actual words were, “Fuck right off. I’m not doing anything to help you with this insane plan.”
