The Good the Bad and the Infernal by Guy Adams

Author:Guy Adams [Adams, Guy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781781080894
Google: jrm2LwEACAAJ
Amazon: 1781080895
Publisher: Solaris
Published: 2013-03-26T07:00:00+00:00

QUARTERSHAFT FELT ABSURDLY pleased with himself. His actions may not have been the stuff of heroic legend—indeed, if he had written them into one of his stories, his editor would have soon insisted he ‘gave it a bit more pep’—but nonetheless, as it was certainly the closest he had come to an act of bravery, he felt justified in a degree of self-congratulation.

For the first time, he began to wonder if he might not survive the trip after all.

He cast his mind back to that hazy afternoon in the snug of the Velvet Pocket. He had been on the wrong side of a couple of bottles of simply delicious champagne, courtesy of a publisher’s lunch. The dark walnut and maroon leather furnishings had taken on the soft, welcoming appearance of pillows, and he had folded himself into an easy chair with the desire to nap for a few hours. It would not have been the first time he had slept in the bar; indeed, a number of the regulars had taken to calling his favoured armchair ‘Quartershaft’s Rest.’ Usually he slipped into unconscious for a couple of hours only to wake with a voracious appetite and the renewed stamina needed to quench it.

That day he had been interrupted.

“I say,” said a voice that poured itself unbidden into his ears from behind the padded armrest, “aren’t you Roderick Quartershaft, the famous explorer?”

Quartershaft was always wrong-footed when a fan found him in his cups. He was quite aware that some of the more devout readers of his exploits would find the sight of him in a drunken pile something of a disappointment. It was a major concern to him, not only because of his desire to keep his popularity high, but also because he felt quite enough self-disgust without the need to see it reflected back at him from others.

“I am,” he replied, desperately trying to pull himself upright and shake his head into some semblance of sobriety. This was more than mere biology could manage, but he did at least open his eyes and point his face towards the enquirer.

He was a well dressed, middle aged man with light blond hair. If he noticed the inebriated state of the explorer, he seemed content to ignore it.

“I knew it was,” the man said. “Spotted you from across the way there. I’ve been a fan of your work for many years.”

Not that many, Quartershaft thought, I’ve only been in print for eighteen months. This was not a new phenomenon; it constantly surprised him how many people seemed convinced he had been a mainstay of literature since they were barely weaned from the breast. ‘Always the way,’ his publisher assured him. ‘It’s the true sign of success when people can’t remember a time without you on their bedside table.’

“That’s extremely gratifying to hear,” he replied. “I’m glad my little exploits bring you pleasure.”

“They do, they do.” The man sat down in the chair next to him and Quartershaft’s heart sank. It was one thing

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