Mr Toppit Read Online Free PDF Page A

front of her, and picked up the receiver. When the other end answered, she turned on her swivel chair so that her back was facing him. Like the girls in the gardens, she had been sunbathing at the weekend, and he could see the white bikini lines running over her red back and shoulders. She spoke in a low voice, and as he was at the other end of the room, still standing by his dust jackets on the wall, he could hear only a mumble, then his name.
    She put down the receiver, and swiveled back to face him. “Strictly speaking, he’s not in,” she said. “He’s in a meeting, but he can come down for a moment.” A few minutes later, from the top of the building, there was the sound of a door slamming andthe whole structure shook as a pair of feet ran down the stairs, as loudly as a crowd of children jumping them one by one.
    Graham Carter, Arthur’s editor and son of his friend Wally Carter, came running in like an unkempt schoolboy, his shirt coming out of his corduroy trousers. “Arthur!” he said, then “Arthur!” again, as he shook his hand and pulled him into a fumbling bear hug with his other arm. Then doubt crossed his face. “We didn’t have an appointment? No, this is a terrible day. Sales conference. Reps. Christ!”
    From behind her desk, Stephanie had put down her paper and was watching Graham and Arthur with her arms folded. There was a moment’s silence, and then the phone rang. “Carter Press. Good afternoon,” Stephanie said brightly. A cloud passed over her face and she glanced at Graham. He gave a little shake of his head. “No,” she said, “I’m afraid not … Well, we were expecting him … Yes. I did pass your … And the one yesterday, yes … Your agent? No, I don’t see a call from him here.” She ran a hand over her desk and rustled some papers. “Well, I will. Yes. Of course.” No sooner had she put the receiver down than the telephone rang again. Graham took Arthur’s arm and led him out into the corridor. As the door closed, Arthur heard Stephanie say, “No, I’m afraid there’s nobody in Accounts now. They’re all at lunch. No, Mr. Carter isn’t here today. He’s at the sales conference … Yes, I know.”
    Graham sat on a packing case and rubbed his eyes. Arthur leaned against the wall opposite him. “It’s good of you to come, Arthur. No, it is, really,” he said. “It’s a nightmare at the moment. Cash-flow problems. Most people are setting their agents on to us. And that’s just the authors. Don’t even ask me about the bloody printers.”
    “I don’t have an agent,” Arthur said.
    “The advances are so high, these days. That’s the problem.”
    Arthur shifted uneasily. “You’ve never paid me an advance.” Graham looked pained, and Arthur said quickly, “I mean, I never really asked for one.”
    “Well, that’s why I feel so rotten about the royalty statements not being done. I hope we’ll have them out by the end of the month,” Graham said. Arthur hadn’t planned to say anything in response to this, but Graham had already put out his hand to prevent him speaking. “I know, I know how late we are. Bloody accounts department.” Graham’s long blond hair fell over his eyes, and he brushed it back over his head with his fingers. He seemed about to cry.
    Arthur felt as if he had somehow got on a bus that was going in the wrong direction and could not work out how to get off. He had not even realized that the royalty statements were late. He couldn’t really remember why he had come to see Graham, but now he felt embarrassed that Graham might have thought it was to complain.
    They looked at each other for an awkward moment and then Graham broke it by saying a little too brightly, “And the children—how are they?”
    Arthur seemed slow to respond to the shift in tone. Graham waited for a second and then added encouragingly, “Rachel—she’s turned into a bit of a stunner, hasn’t she? What a gorgeous thing! And Luke—how old is he