Felix in the Underworld Read Online Free PDF Page B

years but all was confusion. He had always been hopeless at dates.
    â€˜Not my birthday. You should know when my birthday is. Although I’m not admitting to a day over thirty!’ She laughed then, nervously, shaking her shoulders, and he blinked, dazzled by the colours that she wore. When she was still, her clothes were less obtrusive, but when she moved, it was like staring at a brilliantly lit asymmetrical kaleidoscope. A red high-heeled shoe, half off, hung at the end of pink tights decorated with a hole exposing a circle of pale thigh. He took in the purple mini, electric green shirt and blue velvet jacket sewn with sequins. Her hair, dyed a deep, chemical red, was stiff and brittle, as though made of spun sugar, and her face was pale and weary. Her bright clothes were crumpled, stained and grubby, so that she looked like a court jester who had been made to sleep in the straw above a cold stable and was still suffering from it. Her voice was curiously high and full of breath like the voice of a child. ‘I hope you’re happy, Felix,’ she said. ‘I think of you so often and I hope you’re happy.’
    â€˜I’m fairly happy.’ Felix felt he had to say this because she looked genuinely concerned. It would be hard to say that shut in the safety of his room, staring at the sea, tracing in black ink, when he was lucky, a thousand words a day, he was either spectacularly joyful or unbearably miserable. But with the distraction of a book tour and the possibility of Ms Brenda Bodkin, it would be hard to pretend he wasn’t content. ‘And you?’ he was polite enough to ask her.
    â€˜I have my moments,’ she said. ‘I’m proud to say I still have my moments. Now that we’ve found each other again, stay in touch. Will you promise me that?’
    â€˜If he doesn’t stay in touch with you,’ Gavin said, Felix thought quite unhelpfully, ‘I’m sure you’ll stay in touch with him.’
    â€˜Well. . .’ Felix had decided to wind up the conversation. ‘Great meeting you again and I hope you enjoyed the talk.’
    â€˜Oh, I wasn’t listening to the talk!’ He had the uneasy feeling that she was laughing again. ‘I was too busy looking at you. And as you stood there, so serious, I couldn’t help mentioning it to Gavin, you looked exactly like Ian.’
    Who on earth was Ian? Felix felt panic stirring, faced with yet another character he couldn’t remember. He looked round for Brenda and there she was at last, dependable and ready to rescue him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, ‘I must tear him away. We’re going to dinner with the Millstream’s people.’
    â€˜Goodbye,’ Gavin said. ‘And thank you for your time.’
    â€˜Goodbye.’ Felix remembered the tape, the slow, unperturbed voice describing suffering. ‘I’m glad your troubles are over.’
    â€˜Oh, my troubles are quite over now. Thank you, Mr Morsom.’
    â€˜Goodbye, Felix. Don’t let it be so long next time. Oh and I want you to have this.’ Miriam delved into a multi-coloured velvet handbag and produced a brown envelope. ‘At least it’ll help you remember.’ He took it, relieved that it couldn’t be a novel or even a short story – at worst a lyric poem. He found himself thanking her as he slipped it into his pocket.
    â€˜Who on earth were that Gothic couple?’ Brenda asked as she led him away. ‘Extraordinary friends you have!’ Felix had to admit that he hadn’t the remotest idea who they were, except that the man had been in some sort of trouble with the police.
    â€˜And the woman looked like trouble for everybody. What a complete mess she was! Offputting.’ Beauty, Felix thought, is handed out far more unfairly than talent or money and those, like Brenda, who are blessed with it, condescend to the overweight, long-nosed, hairy-handed,