Free Felix in the Underworld by John Mortimer Page A

ever considered termination.
    â€˜For me?’
    â€˜For your mother. We don’t see much hope of a change. Of course I’d have to have a word with Dr Cheeseman.’
    â€˜Please don’t!’ Felix was positive. ‘I get the feeling that, most of the time, she’s secretly happy.’
    Later he travelled to London for a book signing in Millstream’s, Covent Garden. In his pocket was a letter he had received that morning from PROD. It ran:
    Dear Mr Morsom
    Your letter dated 25th May has been noted and will be dealt with by our Mr Savage on his return from paternity leave. Meanwhile, I have to inform you that your liability for the infant Ian Bowker has been reassessed at £25,000.
    I should warn you that failure to pay any sum due to PROD will result in immediate court proceedings.
    With all good wishes
    Yours sincerely
    Placidity Jones pp. K. Savage
    Brenda Bodkin, driven by Terry, the rep, met Felix at Victoria. She was, he thought, looking radiantly beautiful that morning and smelling of freshly baked bread. Her nails were less bitten than usual and her hair lit up Terry’s dingy car like sunshine. However she was in a brisk and businesslike mood which forbade any reference to the distant prospect of abroad or of translating his desire from fiction to fact. Instead he sat brooding on the evil Gavin, the scheming Mirry and the senseless injustice of PROD.
    â€˜You’re not listening!’ Brenda had been giving him the Out of Season sales figures.
    â€˜No. Are they good?’
    â€˜All right, that’s what they are. Perfectly all right. Anyway, what are you looking so miserable about?’
    Terry was listening to a Meatloaf tape and Felix lowered his voice under the sound of the music. He needed someone to confide in.
    â€˜About a woman.’
    â€˜What did you say?’ Brenda shouted above the music.
    â€˜A woman’s causing me terrible trouble.’
    â€˜I’m not causing you trouble. I’m telling you your sales figures and you’re not even listening! You’re not going on about our getting out of the country to do it, are you? Because if you do, I probably shan’t.’
    â€˜It’s not you. It’s another woman.’
    â€˜Oh, really?’ Brenda’s voice was like a chill blast of winter. ‘I thought I was the only woman in your life.’
    â€˜Well, you’re not, worse luck.’
    â€˜What’s this other woman done to you then?’ Brenda was looking out of the window, making it clear that she had very little interest in the matter.
    â€˜She claims to have had my child.’
    â€˜She what? Brenda turned to look at him.
    â€˜She says this solemn little boy she has is mine.’
    â€˜So naturally you did it with her?’
    â€˜It’s just possible. Years ago. On the beach. Well, there was a lilo under the breakwater. The trouble is I simply can’t remember.’
    Winter had given way to spring and now Brenda was smiling. ‘You mean,’ she said, ‘there’ve been so many?’
    â€˜Well’ – he decided there was no harm in letting her think so – ‘perhaps.’
    â€˜Bloody hell! You old devil.’ Terry cornered with panache, the Astra bucked and rocked and they were thrown together. He felt the warmth of her tartan-trousered thigh against his and she didn’t move away. ‘At least we’ve got something we can grab hold of, publicity-wise.’
    â€˜You think I need this sort of publicity?’
    â€˜Of course you do! You know, the trouble with you, Felix, as a promotable author, you’re not colourful. That’s why your sales figures are all right but not spectacular. You’re a nice chap, Felix. As an author you’re perfectly acceptable. You don’t smell. You don’t get drunk. You don’t chase your publicist round the room. You ask politely. You talk nicely to punters at book signings. But let’s face it,