Riley was relieved to see Julian walking toward the Admiral the next Friday. On Monica’s instruction, he’d been round to the cottage every day since New Year’s Eve—ostensibly to sort through more of Julian’s clutter, but also to check that he was getting up, staying warm, and eating. He did seem, if not back to his old self, at least to be on the mend. This evening he looked positively buoyant.
“Riley! Glad you’re here! Guess what?”
“What?” replied Riley.
“Monica’s booked the Eurostar tickets for the art class field trip! I’ve spent all afternoon planning our gallery visits!”
“Awesome!” said Riley, who’d been longing to visit Paris ever since watching Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge as a teenager. He waited for Julian to notice what he’d brought with him.
“Who’s your friend, Riley?” Julian asked, eyeing the wagging tail.
“I’m hoping he’ll be your friend, actually. The builders found him living in the empty house next door. We think he used to belong to the old lady who died recently. They’ve been feeding him on their sandwiches and Gregg’s sausage rolls, but he needs a proper home,” said Riley. The truth was, he thought Julian needed someone to look after even more. That way he’d have a good reason not to give up on life again.
“What is it?” asked Julian.
“It’s a dog,” said Riley.
“No, I mean what breed of dog.”
“God knows. I think there must have been a fair amount of free loving going down. He’s a bit of a mutt. Mainly terrier, I guess,” replied Riley.
“There’s definitely some Jack Russell there somewhere,” said Julian. He and the dog looked at each other, quietly taking in their matching rheumy eyes, gray whiskers, arthritic joints, and world-weariness.
“What’s his name?” asked Julian.
“We don’t know. The builders call him Wojciech.”
“Good grief,” said Julian.
“They’re Polish.”
“I shall call him Keith,” said Julian. “Keith is the perfect name for a dog.”
“Does that mean you’ll take him on?” said Riley.
“I guess so. We can be two miserable old codgers together, hey, Keith?”
“Full disclosure—he can be a bit windy,” said Riley.
“Well, that seals it. Another thing we have in common,” said Julian. “It’ll give me someone to blame when I have guests. Do you think he’d enjoy Paris?” he added, looking down at his new pet. Then, without waiting for an answer, he plowed on, “And is it overly ambitious to try to cover Modern Art and the Renaissance in one day? But how can one choose, Riley? I’ve never been terribly good at narrowing down my options. Mary was always telling me that.”
Riley shrugged. He was slightly out of his comfort zone. “Make sure you leave enough time for us to go up the Eiffel Tower!” he said.
“Dear boy, this is a day of cultural enrichment, not a visit to all the tourist traps. But I suppose if we have to do one of the clichés, it might as well be le Tour Eiffel.”
Riley was distracted by a woman walking toward them, pushing a baby stroller, vigorously, as if it were a piece of gym equipment. She was definitely what you’d describe as a “yummy mummy.” Posh, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, no doubt. She was in her midtwenties, perfectly styled hair with the sort of highlights you’d pay a fortune for in London, but the Australian sun gives you for free. She looked like a well-groomed Palomino pony on her way to a dressage competition. Her hand, clutching a water bottle (reusable), was beautifully manicured. Mothers didn’t come like that in Perth. They tended to have tousled hair and wear crumpled sundresses and flip-flops. Riley waited for her to walk past. But she didn’t.
“Hello,” she said. “You have to be Julian, and you must be Riley?”
“Yes,” he said, confused.
“I knew it. And the Aussie accent is a dead giveaway! I’m Alice!” She thrust out a hand, which they shook. “And this is Bunty!” She waved at the pushchair. “Who’s this?” she asked, looking at the dog now sitting on the Admiral, next to Julian.
“Keith,” replied Julian and Riley in perfect synchronicity.
“How do you know our names?” asked Riley. Was she some kind of stalker?
“I found The Authenticity Project. In the playground,” she replied.
Riley had spent so much time thinking about what damage that stupid book had done in the past that he’d not considered at all what it might have been up to since he’d left it in the children’s play area tucked between his apartment and the café, a small patch of green where he often sat to clear his head.
“Oh, my goodness!” said Julian. “My little book is still doing the rounds! How do you do? Charmed, I’m sure.” Riley rolled his eyes a little. Julian was a sucker for a pretty face.
“OMG! Julian, that jacket is amazing! It has to be Versace. Am I right? 1980s?”
Riley had become so immune to Julian’s dress sense that he’d barely raised an eyebrow at the elaborately patterned silk jacket Julian was sporting under his overcoat, but it was giving Alice paroxysms of excitement.
“Oh, at last!” said Julian. “Another fashionista! I’d begun to give up hope, surrounded by all these frumps. You’re right, of course. The wonderful Gianni. Such a tragic loss to the world. I’ve never quite gotten over it.”
Frumps? Riley bristled. Had no one noticed he was wearing the limited-edition Nikes he’d found on eBay? He watched Julian dabbing at his eyes with a silk handkerchief. He was really hamming it up for his audience. Surely Alice could see through him?
“Please, can you take your coat off for a minute, so I can take a photo?” asked Alice. Was she for real? Julian appeared to be happy to take his coat off on one of the coldest days of the year when he’d just nearly died from hypothermia. He even started posing.
“The cowboy boots?” he said, in response to another of her inane fashion inquiries. “They’re from R.Soles on the King’s Road. Great name, isn’t it? It’s probably closed now, of course. It’ll be a Pret a Manger, or something similarly ghastly.” He looked wistful. “Isn’t this fun? Reminds me of the times I spent with my great friend David Bailey.”
Riley thought Alice might faint. Where, he wondered, were all these “great friends” when Julian was living like a hermit for fifteen years?
“Shall I just leave you two to it?” he asked, realizing as he said it that he was sounding a bit like a jealous child. Alice turned to him.
“Actually, Riley, you were the person I wanted to see, much as I’m loving your friend Julian.” Julian actually simpered. Monica, thought Riley, would never stoop to such obvious flirtation. “I have a proposition for you.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Can you meet me at this address, tomorrow at ten a.m.? Julian, you could come, too! You’ll love it. I promise! My number’s on there in case you have to back out, but I know you won’t! You won’t, will you? Now, I have to get Bunty to Monkey Music. Laters!”
Laters???
“Gosh. Isn’t she just marvelous,” said Julian. “I can’t wait to find out what that’s all about. Can you? We simply must introduce her to Monica, she’ll love her.”
Monica, thought Riley, was worth a hundred Alices. He really didn’t want to keep this mystery appointment, but he could tell that Julian wasn’t going to let it go.