The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [373]
“Shall—shall I pour you a cup?”
“Thank you!” exclaimed Mr. Phillips. “Milk and—”
“One sugar,” She smiled shyly. “Yes, yes, I know.”
She poured the tea and handed the cup and saucer to him. He took it gratefully.
“Mr. Phillips?”
“Yes?”
“Do I have a first name?”
“Of course,” he replied quietly and with great emotion, “I have had over thirty years to think about it. Your name is Aurora, as befits somebody as beautiful as the dawn.”
She covered her nose and mouth to hide her smile and blushed deeply.
Mr. Phillips raised a shaking hand to touch her cheek but stopped as he remembered that I was still present. He nodded imperceptibly in my direction and said, “Thank you, Miss Pittman—perhaps later you might come in for some . . . dictation.”
“I will look forward to it, Mr. Phillips!”
And she turned, trod softly on the carpet to the door, looked round once more and went out. When I looked back at Mr. Phillips, he had sat down, drained by the emotionally charged encounter.
“Do we have a deal? Or do I put the table back where it was?”
He looked shocked. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
He considered his position for a moment and then offered me his hand. “Pigs at treble the going rate?”
“Top of page two thirty-two.”
“Deal.”
Pleased with my actions so far, I collected the dog and jumped forward to the middle of page two thirty-two. By now the sale of Johnny’s father’s pigs was the talk of the town and had even made it into the headlines of the local papers: Unprecedented Pig Prices Shock Town. There was only one thing left to do—replace the blind collie for the sighted one.
“I’m looking for the vet,” I asked a passerby.
“Are you?” replied the woman amiably. “Good for you!” and she hurried on.
“Could you tell me the way to the vet?” I asked the next person, a sallow man in a tweed suit.
He was no less literal: “Yes, I could.” He attempted to walk on. I tried to grasp him by the sleeve but missed and momentarily clasped his hand. He gasped out loud. This was echoed by two women who had witnessed the incident. They started to gossip volubly. I pulled out my ID.
“Jurisfiction,” I told him, adding, “on official business,” just to make sure he got the picture.
But something had happened. The townsfolk, who up until that moment had seemed to wander the streets like automatons, were all of a sudden animated individuals, talking, whispering and pointing. I was a stranger in a strange land, and while the townsfolk didn’t seem hostile, I was clearly an object of considerable interest.
“I need to get to the vet,” I said loudly. “Now, can anyone tell me where he lives?”
The two ladies who had been chattering suddenly smiled and nodded to one another.
“We’ll show you where he works.”
I left the first man still staring at his hand and looking at me in an odd way. I didn’t take offense. People looked at me oddly quite a lot.
I followed the ladies to a small building set back from the road. I thanked them both, one of whom I noticed remained at the gate while the other bustled away with a purposeful stride. I rang the doorbell.
“Hello?” said the vet, opening the door and looking surprised; he only had one client booked that day—Johnny and Shadow. The vet was meant to tell the young lad how Shadow would stay blind forever.
“This dog,” said the vet automatically, “will never see again. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“Jurisfiction,” I told him, showing him my ID. “There’s been a change of plan.”
“What sort of change?” he asked as I gently forced my way in and closed the door. “Are you here to alter the less-than-savory references to stereotypical Gypsy folk in chapters thirteen to fifteen?”
“We’ll get round to that, don’t you worry.”
I wasn’t going to take any chances and go through the same rigmarole as I had with Mr. Phillips, so I looked around furtively and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but . . . wicked men are planning