His name is Felix Adler.
We meet him on a Saturday morning in the lift.
He is carrying a cello case, which is not the strangest thing about him. The strangest thing is that he is wearing a suit jacket over pyjama bottoms and has the expression of a man who made a decision this morning and has not yet decided if it was the right one.
Arlo is extremely interested in the cello case.
"He will not bite it," I say, pulling Arlo back.
"I am less concerned about the dog than the cello," Felix replies, looking at Arlo with the wariness of someone who has had expensive things destroyed by enthusiastic animals before.
"He only destroys soft furnishings," Rhys says. "In our experience."
"That is oddly specific reassurance," Felix replies.
He is mid thirties, dark eyed, with t
