But now it seemed as if the embers were about to flare up in Titus. Astra feels a mix of hope and worry.
‘Well, was there a bit of a party yesterday, then?’ she asks.
‘Err, yes. Sure. Really great. Eddie X was MC-ing. And he performed with Lenny, you know, and those other Tourette guys. I think Lenny and Eddie have known each other since they were kids. Lenny is bonkers. We were partying together all night and in the end Lenny could only say “c-c-cock in your ear!” “C-c-cock in your e-e-e-ar.” Over and over again. Just sat there and twitched and said “cock in your ear”. Completely out of it.’
‘There is medicine for that.’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t want to take any. He says it would numb his mind.’
‘Who knows. I would like to have my mind numbed a bit if the only thing I could say was “cock in your ear”. Well, anyway…’
‘Whatever,’ says Titus, who is in a hurry to talk about his book idea. ‘I was livened up by that party. And an incredibly good idea suddenly popped up. Listen to this.’
With sweeping gestures, Titus starts to describe the book that is going to top all the lists in all categories at the same time. He has already got quite far with the actual plot. The protagonist is an overweight chief inspector whose career ambitions in the police force have stalled. But by being able to make fantastic dishes with special ingredients he starts slowly but surely to lose weight. It transpires that the weight loss is permanent. The slimming soon gives him energy and the self-confidence to set new targets for his life and his work. One thing after the other suddenly starts to run smoothly. His new way of looking at the world makes him question the methods used by the police. The unorthodox style of detective work he initiates soon bears fruit and a number of unsolved serial murders finally look as if they would find resolution, if it weren’t for his boss, the unsympathetic chief superintendent, who is keen on team spirit and ‘the way the police have always worked’. The hero of the book, the chief inspector who is now a normal weight, sets off a grass-roots revolution and a radical organisational transformation begins. It is a development story of great proportions. Criminal elements will be cowering.
Astra listens to Titus with growing interest. She has never seen Titus so enthusiastic before.
‘Do you get it?’ Titus croaks on. ‘Are you on board? With this framework I can fill in with wisdom, recipes and DIY tips at length. I can write any amount!’
‘I believe you,’ answers Astra slowly. ‘I really do.’
‘So what do you think? Shall I get going?’
You can hear Astra think. On the one hand she thinks it a good idea. A really good idea. Brilliant, quite simply. She knows that Titus writes superbly, and presumably a change of genre would be just the thing his writing needs. On the other hand, it is a crazy project. To let loose a more-or-less alcoholic author on the task of writing a bestseller can never end well. It is impossible to know in advance which books will sell, that much she does know. To give Titus false hopes might douse his flame for good. And how should she present the project at Winchester’s? If she says she is intending to turn Titus into a worldwide success, everybody is going to laugh at her. There is no way she is going to take that risk. But sometimes you’ve got to chance it, haven’t you? What the hell should she do?
She must give this more thought. At the same time, Titus deserves a response. Support and encouragement are a publisher’s most important contributions. Except for the advance on royalties, of course.
‘It’s a brilliant idea, Titus. It really is. The best I’ve heard for years, in fact. Besides, I think the book could be extremely well received if you are the person behind the project. You’ve got no “tainted record”, quite simply.’
‘Tainted record?’
‘You would be able to get good reviews. Nobody is going to believe that you are doing this just to be commercial. If you were a crime writer then they would make mincemeat of you. Or even worse a dietician, chef, cleric or management guru. But you are Titus Jensen, the heavyweight novelist.’
‘Umm… could I have another beer?’
‘Weren’t you going to drive me to the Winchester Villa afterwards?’
‘But it’s only medium-strong, damn it!’
‘Okay, okay…’ says Astra resignedly, and gets a beer out of the fridge.
‘So what do you think?’
‘I will be totally honest, Titus. The idea is superb. At the same time I do see a whole lot of risks involved. For you, for me and for Winchester’s. I’ll talk to Evita this evening, I promise. I’ll ask for a mandate to do this as a secret project that only you, me and she will know about. If she says yes, then the advance is in the post. If she says no, then I don’t know… What do you say, shall we let her make the decision? I promise to present the idea as positively as possible.’
‘Should I wait outside in the car, or what? Can’t I present the idea to Evita myself? I’ve written books for Winchester’s for years. You must have earned… well, a bit from me, at any rate.’
‘Trust me, Titus. And now I’m being totally honest again. Evita is a tough bird, you know that. You don’t exactly inspire confidence with the way you look now. And your breath is not the sweetest I have come across. I promise you, you don’t want to meet her today. I’ll phone you tomorrow. Is that okay?’
‘Okay…’
Titus is satisfied with that for now. What else could he do?
They talk a bit more about the book and which elements it can be filled with. The more they go into the plot, the better it feels.
They are happy and buoyant when Titus drives Astra to Evita Winchester. 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.
‘Oh my God, Titus. What in heaven’s name are you doing?’
‘Err… I had a little celebration at the Association yesterday.’
‘Celebration? Why?’
‘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.’
‘Yeah, sure, skip the excuses please.’
‘Er… but why are you here? How did things go with Evita yesterday?
‘That’s why I’m here.’
‘Oh, right…’
‘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 single turn 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.