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Titus then drives home to Söder and parks his car. He is happy, tired and needs a well-deserved rest after a hard working weekend and tough negotiations with his editor. Perhaps it would do him good to take a bracing evening walk before going to bed early.
    Ten minutes later he is sitting and smoking at his regular table at the Association Bar.
    It was a bracing walk.

CHAPTER 5
Evita’s Conditions
    A doorbell rings inside Titus’ head. First a short ring. And then one more. Then a couple that are a bit angrier. The sound of the flap of a letterbox being opened. There’s a creaking inside his head. A voice calling out ‘helloooo’ in a can. A long extended ringing sound vibrates inside his head. Riiiing… creak… hello… riiiing… screech… helloooo…
    Stop it…
    Stop it!
    Titus wakes up. Somebody is ringing his doorbell, he realises. Since he is already dressed he hobbles across to the door and opens it.
    Astra. And she doesn’t look pleased when she sees Titus’ appearance. His eyes are red and he smells like a smoking room due for demolition.
    â€˜Oh my God, Titus. What in heaven’s name are you doing?’
    â€˜Err… I had a little celebration at the Association yesterday.’
    â€˜Celebration? Why?’
    â€˜Um… well… didn’t we have a nice conversation yesterday? I thought so. I was thinking about the book and celebrated with a couple of glasses. But I’ve got such a dreadful cold, so it hit me harder than it usually does.’
    â€˜Yeah, sure, skip the excuses please.’
    â€˜Er… but why are you here? How did things go with Evita yesterday?
    â€˜That’s why I’m here.’
    â€˜Oh, right…’
    â€˜And I had to see it with my own eyes,’ says Astra and points into Titus’ flat.
    The flat isn’t much bigger than what you can see with a singleturn of your head. But if you were to go through and sort everything, it would take a couple of weeks. Books, magazines, dirty clothes, unwashed dishes and bits and pieces. Titus’ home is simply crammed full of rubbish from floor to ceiling.
    â€˜You what? What’s with the “see with my own eyes” thing?’ Titus yawns.
    â€˜How you live, of course.’
    â€˜Are you working for Social Services today? What the hell is this about?’ croaks Titus sourly when he understands that his lifestyle is under scrutiny. ‘Would you like a coffee?’
    â€˜Yes, please.’
    Titus goes into the kitchen alcove, takes the old coffee filter out of the machine, throws it into the bin and puts in a new one. He opens a cupboard and pulls out some crisp bread and a squeezed-out tube of fish paté.
    â€˜A little Danish sandwich, perhaps?’ he asks ironically when he sees Astra turn her nose up.
    â€˜Thanks, but don’t bother,’ answers Astra, smiling.
    â€˜So, what did she say?’
    Astra sits down on a kitchen chair and takes a deep breath.
    â€˜Evita says two things. First, that it is the best idea she’s heard for years. With the right author it can be a worldwide bestseller.’
    â€˜Really, you don’t say! That makes me really happy!’ exclaims Titus and starts laughing.
    â€˜Hang on a moment, Titus. The second thing she says is a bit tougher. She says… that you aren’t the right author.’
    Titus coughs up the gulp of coffee he just swallowed, spraying it over the kitchen table and his crisp bread sandwich. He dries his chin with the sleeve of his jumper.
    â€˜What the hell are you saying? Is she out of her senses? This is my book and nobody else’s.’
    â€˜Titus, we had a really long conversation, me and Evita. She means what she says. She knows how you live. And what she says is: Titus Jensen is not the right author for
The Best Book in the World.
But he could be! He – could – become it.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜You could
become
the