Page 62 of The Day After Christmas
He raised a chopstick.
‘Well, if you must know,’ said Harry, ‘it’s me.’
Tristan nodded firmly. ‘It’s him.’
‘What?’ said James.
‘You’re famous?’ said Felicity, her chopsticks hitting the table with a clatter.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ he repeated, still with that mysterious smile.
‘In what manner?’ said James again, exasperated.
‘It’s complicated,’ said Harry.
‘It always is,’ said Felicity.
As they dug into the main course, Harry explained. Or tried to, at least.
‘I wasn’t entirely honest about the painter-decorator thing,’ he said.
‘So you lied to me on our first meet-up? Is that what you’re saying?’ said Felicity. Her blood was thrumming in her ears.What on earth was he going to say next?
‘He does do that, sometimes,’ said Tristan. ‘He did my lounge a while back. Very nice job too.’
‘Can we get on with it?’ said James. ‘I would like to make it to dessert without any violence.’
‘The truth is,’ said Harry, ‘I’m an author.’
‘An author?’ said Felicity automatically, her mind still whirring.
A slow flush crept up Harry’s face.
‘A bloody good one too,’ said Tristan, proudly. It was the nicest thing she’d ever heard Tristan say about, well, anything.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I just wrote a couple of books, and it turns out they’re very popular in the States… and…’
‘WHAT? That’s amazing. Wow.’
‘Legend,’ said James.
‘Yes, well, I know. I wrote one about the history of rock and roll which went down well, and then I thought I’d have a go at something a bit different.’
‘Just you wait for this,’ said Tristan, eyebrows raised.
Felicity’s thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour. ‘But when I googled you, nothing came up. You’re a ghost online. How can you have a successful book and also be a ghost?’ Even as she asked the question the answer arrived in her mind. ‘Oh. Of course. Silly me. You wrote it anonymously.’
Harry nodded. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was blushing.
‘I wrote it, under a pseudonym, yes. My author name is… no, I don’t want to say.’
‘You bloody have to now,’ squealed Felicity, phone in hand, prepared to google for England. James raised his to the ceiling, ready to race her to it. ‘It’s not “Barry Hooks”, is it? That would be funny.’
Harry barked out a laugh but also looked like he was about to cry for some bizarre reason. ‘Not that cheesy I promise. But you’re not that far off. I called myself “Diana Edwards” and the Yanks, you know, they just lapped that up.’
That was all it took. Felicity and James immediately began tapping furiously at their phones. James won by a nose, and passed his phone to Felicity with a guffaw.
‘Oh, bloody hell. Oh, my goodness. There you are.’ She was staring down in pure disbelief at a shoddy-looking red-and-black cover featuring a scantily-clad woman and a half-naked and very oily-looking man, and the titleThe Minx. Felicity couldfeel the blood rushing in her ears and resisted the urge to get up and walk around the room.
