expression on his face. “God, you’re a fucking idiot,” I grumble. “Could this day get any worse?” I sigh.
“Why have you had a bad day?” Max asks immediately. His expression clouds over. “Did he do something?”
“Who?” I ask.
He nods toward Andrew.
“Oh no.” I wave a hand in rebuttal and turn to Andrew. “Andrew, this is Max,” I say. “Don’t shake his other hand. With my luck, his whole arm will drop off.”
“You know, Felix, what I really love about you is your ability to tap into your compassion at a second’s notice,” Max observes.
I glare at him. “Just be glad I’m not tapping into a nearby stick. Because I’d probably beat you over the head with it today.”
Andrew has been staring at Max, and he suddenly exclaims, “You’re Max Travers.”
Max’s humour dies away. “I am,” he says coolly.
“That’s excellent. I followed you when you were a journalist and Felix bought me a copy of your book for my birthday.”
“Did he really?” Max glances at me with a gleeful expression.
I blush. “It’s only right to help the older generation along,” I say quickly. “Money in your pocket, Max. You can buy yourself another Zimmer.”
Max chuckles. “Felix has a real feel for bookshops,” he says to Andrew in a conversational tone. How he manages it while sitting on the ground with one arm in a sling, is beyond me, but he does. Sometimes I envy his sangfroid.
“Really?” Andrew sounds offensively surprised.
The glee on Max’s face intensifies. “Yes, he gets so much out of bookshops. Why, when I met him for the first time it was in a bookshop and then he did this thing with his—”
“Oh my God,” I say loudly, drowning out his voice. “We’ve—” I falter for inspiration. “We’ve got some papers for you to sign.”
Max makes an apologetic face. “Darling, I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of commission at the moment as a result of you mangling my arm.”
“Mangling? You didn’t get it caught in a combine harvester. Put the pen in your mouth, then, and do it for England,” I snap. “And don’t call me darling,” I add as an afterthought.
“Felix,” Andrew says in a shocked tone.
At that moment an old lady steps out of the cottage and walks towards us, doing up her coat as she goes.
“See you tomorrow, Mr Travers,” she snaps at Max.
I gape at her. Does she not see what’s happening?
She gets a few steps down the drive and then stops and turns back. “The house is done and clean. There had better not be any more experiments in your study or I won’t answer for my actions. You’re resting on my last nerve since the incident with the gunpowder.” She looks at me and Andrew. “He’s nutty as a squirrel’s dinner,” she remarks in a warning tone.
“You have my deepest and most sincere condolences,” I tell her.
Andrew shakes his head. “He does seem to inspire strong emotion, doesn’t he?”
“Mainly homicidal ones,” I snap. I look at Max and sigh. “Okay, get in the car,” I command. “I’m going to drive you to the hospital to get that arm checked out.”
“Isn’t that sort of a poacher turned gamekeeper?” Max asks, getting to his feet with suspicious obedience.
Andrew laughs and ruffles my hair. “He’s definitely not the best driver. I nearly had a heart attack being in the passenger seat this morning.”
Max stares at him coldly, all the humour leaving his face. “I’m sure he’d be brilliant if he put his mind to it,” he says stiffly. “Felix has an amazing brain.” I stare open-mouthed at Max, but he just carries on glaring at Andrew. “He hates driving though, and that’s not his car. So why was he driving in the first place?”
“Oh.” Andrew shifts position awkwardly.
I’m torn between glee at Max defending me and ire that he’s sticking his nose in my private life. “None of your business,” I say sharply.
At the same time, Andrew says, “I got a bit drunk last night and Felix offered to drive.”
I gape at Andrew. My open mouth gets even wider, when Max says primly, “Maybe have a bit more consideration for Felix and limit your alcohol consumption.”
“That’s like Marie Antoinette lecturing the guillotine operator on how to cut her hair,” I observe as I open the passenger door. “Get in,” I command.
Max obeys with suspicious obedience. I’m just about to start the engine when he says, “Wait,” urgently and jumps out and vanishes into the house.
“Where is he going now?” I groan. “Christ, this is like a