Monica sat, holding a glass of Pimm’s, her back against a tree in Kensington Gardens. She saw a couple standing on the edge of their group. They were holding hands and looked entirely self-contained.
“Julian. I’m so pleased you invited Mary!” she said.
“Yes. And her boyfriend. Can you call someone a boyfriend when they’re nearly eighty? It sounds like a contradiction in terms.”
“He’s definitely what you’d describe as a silver fox, isn’t he?” said Monica. “As are you, of course,” she added quickly, knowing that Julian’s pride would be hurt otherwise.
“He seems like a nice enough chap, if you like that kind of thing,” said Julian. “A little bland, but hey ho. I’d better introduce him to everyone.”
Julian walked over toward Mary and Anthony, followed by Keith. Both of them looked a little stilted and arthritic. “Keith’s not a dog,” she heard him say to Anthony, “he’s my personal trainer.” Benji came over and sat next to Monica.
“Monica, I wanted to tell you something,” he said. “I don’t want to steal Julian’s and Riley’s thunder, but I can’t keep it secret from you any longer.” She suspected she knew what he was going to say.
“Baz and I are getting married.” Yay! Just as she’d hoped. The next sentence was, however, a surprise. “And we’d very much like you to be our best man. Or best woman. Best person. Whatever. Will you? Please say yes!”
“Oh, Benji, I’m so thrilled for you,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I’d be totally honored.”
“Hurrah! I can’t wait to tell Baz! Betty thinks the wedding is all her idea, obviously. She’s already planning the menu for the reception. We’re getting hitched at Chelsea Town Hall—like Julian and Mary, but with a happier ending, I hope. Then we’re having a party at Betty’s restaurant.”
“So Betty’s completely relaxed about the whole thing now?” Monica asked.
“She seems to be,” Benji replied. “Although, she’s got herself completely worked up about gay rights in China. Did you know that homosexuality was only legalized there in 1997? But the thing that really upsets her is that China won’t allow gay couples, there or abroad, to adopt Chinese babies.”
“Well, if anyone can persuade the People’s Republic of China to change their policy, I’m sure it’s Mrs. Wu. Oh, it’s all so wonderful,” said Monica, realizing that, possibly for the first time, she was nothing but genuinely pleased to hear news of another wedding. She waited to feel the familiar gnawing sense of envy, but it didn’t come. Hazard came over and sat down on her other side.
“You look happy,” he said.
“I am,” she replied, wishing she could share the news, but Monica prided herself on being good with secrets. “It feels like everything’s coming together.”
“You know, this is the first party I’ve been to since I was a child when I haven’t felt the need to get off my face. Even back then I’d overdose on Smarties and Coca-Cola. Isn’t that amazing?”
“It is, Hazard. You are amazing. Oh, I have something I need to give to Riley. I’ll be right back.”
She walked over to Riley, who was surrounded by a group of his Australian friends, including Brett, who was going with him to Amsterdam in a few days’ time.
“Riley, can I have a quick chat?” she asked. Riley immediately disentangled himself from the crowd and followed her to a quiet spot, on the edge of the party.
“I’ve been wanting to say thank you. For what you wrote in the book about me. About how I’d make a great mother. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, even if I never get the opportunity to see if you were right.”
“I’d forgotten I’d written that, even though it’s absolutely true,” he said, with a smile.
“I have something for you,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out an oddly shaped parcel, wrapped in paper dotted with holly and ivy. “I bought this for you at Christmas, but with all the excitement of Hazard’s arrival and the flying figgy pudding, I never gave it to you. Today feels like the right time for you to have it.”
Riley took the parcel and tore it open, with all the genuine excitement of a five-year-old.
“Monica, it’s beautiful!” he said, turning it over in his hands. It was a perfectly engineered trowel, with Riley engraved on the handle.
“It’s so you can garden wherever you are,” she said.
“Thank you. I love it. I’ll think of you, all of you,” he corrected, quickly, “whenever I use it. Please, can we stay in touch? In any case, I want to find out what happens with you and Hazard,” he said.
“Is it that obvious?” asked Monica, secretly rather thrilled that it was. “Do you mind?”
“You know, I did at first. Just a bit,” replied Riley, “but I love you both, so now that I’ve come round to the idea I couldn’t be happier.” Monica wondered how Riley could be so generous. In his place, she’d have been seething and sticking pins into wax effigies. And he did look just a little sad, behind the effusive smiles. Perhaps she was imagining it.
“Riley, you really are one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” she said, giving him a hug that he held for just a beat too long. “I’ll miss you. We all will.”
“Hazard will make a great dad, too, you know,” said Riley.
“Do you think so? He’s not so sure. He doesn’t entirely trust himself yet,” said Monica, realizing as she said it how little it mattered to her now.
“Well, just get him to ask the kids at Mummy’s Little Helper if he’d make a good father. They’ll convince him!” said Riley.
“You know, I might just do that,” said Monica.
“Everyone, I have an announcement to make,” said Julian, using a ladle to bang on the side of the bin filled with Pimm’s. “When Mary left, she left behind something very special. No, I don’t mean me.” He paused for the laughter, like a West End performer working his audience. “She left her viola. I’m hoping she’ll play it for us now. Mary?” And he handed her the viola, which he must have hidden in one of his bags.
“Gosh, I haven’t played for years. Hello, my old friend. I’ll give it a go,” said Mary, picking up the viola and turning it over in her hands, getting used to the feel and weight of it again. Carefully, she tuned each of the strings, then she started to play, slowly and cautiously at first, then exuberantly, playing a wild Irish jig. A crowd formed around them. Families, on their way home after feeding the swans, stopped to see who was making music with such flair and passion.
Monica walked over to Julian and sat down on the grass next to his deck chair, scratching Keith, his ever-present shadow, behind the ears.
“I’m been wanting to tell you, Monica, that I’m so pleased about you and Hazard,” said Julian. “I’d like to take just a little bit of credit for that, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course you can, Julian. After all, if it wasn’t for your notebook, I’d never have talked to him again after the first time we bumped into each other. Literally,” said Monica.
“Don’t let it go, will you, Monica? Don’t make the mistakes I did.” He looked over at Mary and Anthony, with an expression that managed to flit between happiness and sorrow.
“You don’t think Hazard’s just a little too much like you, Julian, do you?” asked Monica tentatively, hoping he wouldn’t take offense. Julian laughed.
“Oh no, don’t worry. Hazard’s far nicer, and less stupid, than me. And you’re far stronger than Mary was back then. Yours is going to be a very different love story, with a very different ending. Anyhow, don’t you worry, I’ve had a little chat with him. A sort of fatherly pep talk.” Monica was both horrified and intrigued by this thought. How she wished she’d been a fly on the wall for that one.
“I have something for you, Julian,” she said.
“Darling girl, you’ve given me a present already,” he replied, gesturing to the paisley silk cravat he had tied jauntily around his neck.
“It’s not another present, it’s just something coming home,” she said, passing him a pale-green notebook with three words on the front cover: The Authenticity Project. It was looking a little battered after all its travels. “I know you told Mary you couldn’t keep it, because you hadn’t been authentic, but now you are, and you should have it. You’re where it started, and you should be where it ends.”
“Ah, my notebook. Welcome back. What an adventure you’ve been on,” he said, placing the book gently in his lap and stroking it, like a cat. “Who gave it this smart plastic cover?” he asked. Then, seeing Monica grin, “Oh, how silly of me. I shouldn’t have to ask.”
Mary was playing a Simon and Garfunkel song that everyone was singing along to. Bunty, who was sitting with Alice and Lizzie, stood up and clapped, then, noticing that she wasn’t holding on to anything, looked shocked and fell over. Where was Max? Monica wondered.
It was getting darker. The sunbathers and dog walkers had all gone, and the midges had come out to feed. Monica had hailed some black cabs to help them take the bins, glasses, and rugs back to the café. Julian watched them pack everything up and start walking over toward the road.
“Come on, Julian!” said Monica.
“You folks go ahead,” said Julian. “I’d just like five minutes by myself. I’ll follow on.”
“Are you sure?” Monica asked him, not wanting to leave him alone. Julian was, she realized, suddenly looking every day of his real age. Perhaps that was just the effect of the falling dusk, the dark filling in all his creases.
“Yes, honestly. I’d like some time to reflect,” he said.
Hazard held his hand out from the back of the taxi, helping Monica to climb in. In that gesture, Monica realized, was everything she wanted in life. She looked back at Julian, sitting in his deck chair, Keith’s head resting on his lap. He gave her a wave, still holding the book in his hand. For all his idiosyncrasies and imperfections, he really was the most extraordinary person Monica had ever met.
Of all the cafés in all the world, she was terribly grateful he’d chosen hers.