‘It’s going to be translated into lots of different languages!’
‘And win prizes!’
‘Be made into a film!’
‘Into a play!’
‘Start a new trend!’
‘Indeed it will!’
‘Exactly!’
‘Let’s drink to that!’
‘Cheers!’
Once again they are touchingly in agreement. They look at each other in a moment of real earnest. Is this just a fun drunken idea? Yes, perhaps, but just now it feels as if it is of decisive importance. To write a book that fills every single bestseller category at the same time – that would put the author on the map forever. But to make an attempt that fails would, in turn, guarantee a prominent position in the encyclopedia of misfits. The risks are great. Horrible.
What have they got to lose?
Quite a lot, in fact.
Being the first, for example.
They both think that thought at the same time. You’ve got to be first. First, first, first! Otherwise you’ve had it. Oh dear, now it’s a matter of playing it cool. Now there is suddenly an awful lot at stake. Their gaze wanders and they look a little askance at each other.
Silence.
Wandering eyes.
Eddie, who always takes responsibility for social situations, is the first to speak up.
‘Yeah, well, Titus, that was a really fun idea. Somebody ought to write a book like that. But it’s probably impossible to put all those different bits together into something that works, don’t you think?’
‘Right… yes, absolutely. If it could work, then somebody would already have done it. That’s for certain. But it is a fun idea.’
‘Yeah…’
‘Um…’
‘Shall I get some more booze?’
‘Yeah, sure. Then perhaps we can come up with some even better ideas, don’t you think?’ says Titus, and laughs somewhat forcedly.
‘Right. That’s the attitude, Titus. Now let’s forget this and have a bit of a party! I’ll get some drinks and tell Lenny and the boys to come over. Nobody can party like The Tourettes!’
Eddie goes to fetch the spirits and his mates. The night is long and is filled with conversations, laughter and facial twitches.
Neither Titus nor Eddie mentions the book idea again.
Both of them know what this is about.
The Best Book in the World can give eternal life.
But only to one of them.
CHAPTER 3
A Star Publisher Enthuses
Titus wakes up in the back seat of his car in the festival parking area. He is dripping with sweat. The sun is already high in the sky and you could fry an egg on the car bonnet. It is stuffy. He opens the car door and falls out into the cool Swedish summer morning. The birds are chirping and all around him he sees misted-up windows of cars full of other festival-goers. He goes to the shower building, which is still fairly quiet. He stands under a jet and lets his head clear, gulping water to try and flush out his body.
The idea still feels good. Almost even better. This is exactly what he needs. A big project into which he can channel all his energy.
He buys a squashed cheese roll from a stall and goes towards his car. Wonder where Eddie got to? They had been drinking a long time and then Eddie had suddenly just disappeared. Somebody said that he thought that Eddie had got a lift home to Stockholm already, in the middle of the night.
Titus gets behind the wheel and bounces out from the field that has become a temporary parking place during the festival. When he is back on the road, he picks up his telephone and rings his editor at Winchester Publishing.
‘Umm, hello? Astra Larsson here.’
‘Hi, Astra, it’s Titus. Sorry to phone you so early on a Sunday.’
‘Oh, it’s you. Hi, Titus. And yes, I am feeling a bit groggy. I was out dancing until three last night. We had a girls’ dinner which became… well, something completely different…’
‘Sounds like fun. Astra, I have had a great idea that we have to talk about. When can you see me?’
‘Err, I don’t know. I don’t exactly keep my diary with me in bed. Sometime next week?’
‘No, no, no! It is much more urgent than that. You’ve got to hear this. Can I come over this evening?’
‘No, I don’t know. I’m going to dinner at Evita Winchester’s. The will of the boss is law, you know. She has invited all her editors so that we can talk about next year’s list.’
‘Well then, that’s perfect!’ Titus shouts. ‘I can get to you before the dinner! What time are you due there?’
‘Five,’ says Astra. ‘You are making me really curious, Titus. What has happened?’
‘Let’s talk it about later. I’ll be at your place by four o’clock latest. Then I’ll give you a lift to the Winchester Villa on Djurgården. Okay?’
‘Okay, let’s do that.’
‘Thanks, Astra. Thanks.’
‘See you.’
CHAPTER 4
Chez Astra
At three o’clock Titus rings the bell by Astra’s door. He has never liked using lifts, so he has lumbered up the stairs to Astra’s flat. He is a bit out of breath and sweaty when Astra opens the door.
‘Hi, Titus, are you already here? Nice to see you. You look… you look as if you’ve been having fun… or something,’ says Astra, who looks just as beautiful and freshly showered as usual.
‘Hi,’ Titus pants. ‘Everything okay?’
‘How did you get on at the festival? What did they hand you this time?’
‘The Diseases of the Swedish Monarchs. It was a great success.’
‘Yes, well. I’m glad to hear it. Congratulations, I suppose one should say then.’
‘You sound ironic…’
‘Yes, but you know what I think about all that. It might be fun and so on, but I don’t think it does much for your brand image as an author.’
‘My brand image?’ says Titus, irritated. ‘I get a fee, damn it! Money is good for my brand image. But perhaps you are thinking of raising my royalty rate? Are you?’
‘Sorry, Titus, sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. Come in, now.’
Titus enters the flat and kicks his shoes off in the hall. They are in good company. Astra has at least twenty pairs of shoes there. Light airy shoes that look very expensive. Shoes that go perfectly with Astra’s young, glowing and slim legs.
Astra is already in the kitchen. She pokes about behind the counter.
‘What can I offer you, Titus?’ she calls out to Titus when he walks through the living room. ‘Espresso? Latte? A beer?’
‘Yeah, that’d be good. A beer would go down nicely.’
‘I’ve only got medium-strong beer. But it’s cold and good!’
‘That’ll do fine.’
Astra gets out a beer and Titus sits on the other side of the counter. He strokes his crew-cut scalp with one hand and opens the beer can with the other. He looks pretty rugged, to put it politely. Then he empties about half of the contents of the can in a few large gulps. Astra looks at him at first with surprise, but her forehead and eyebrows stretch further for every gulp he takes. That doesn’t look as though it’s good for him, she seems to be thinking.
She knows very well what it is about. When she ‘inherited’ Titus Jensen a few years earlier, she had been warned about the way Titus burned his candle at both ends. His former editor couldn’t cope any longer with his empty talk and continuous binge drinking. Astra, who had built up a reputation at work for her strong will and her literary sense, got to take him over and had the task of trying to steer his work. But since his writing hadn’t gone anywhere for a long time, there was nothing to steer. Titus just went round and round.