February 1997. The lights of the Albert Bridge are beads of hope strung across the night. Max and Lola both have songs in their heads: Max’s song is the Frank Sinatra version of ‘My One and Only Love’. Lola’s is the Doris Day ‘If I Give My Heart to You’. They’re both thinking a lot and not talking much as they walk along the Embankment towards the Chelsea Bridge. After a while Lola says, ‘I think I should tell you about Basil Meissen-Potts.’
‘Fragile, is he?’ says Max. In his mind stamping heavily upon the Meissen-Pottsery of the unknown Basil.
‘Not at all,’ says Lola. ‘He’s a black belt and a demon cricketer. His main thing is being a QC.’
‘Why do you need to tell me about him?’
‘Well, Daddy and Mummy rather expect me to marry him. Not that I want to.’
‘I should hope not.’
‘All the same, he’s part of a kind of life that I’m accustomed to, and it isn’t something one walks away from lightly. I’ll follow my heart wherever it takes me but it’s got to be the real thing.’ She and Max have so far used the word love only in connection with spooky stories, Monteverdi, rain, the Albert Bridge, and so on.
‘Are you the real thing?’ says Max’s mind.
‘How real can I be, for Christ’s sake?’ says Max. ‘Some mornings when I wake up I’m not even there.’
‘I wonder how long the light bulbs on the Albert Bridge last,’ says Lola.
‘They can always get new ones as the old ones burn out,’ says Max. ‘It’ll never go dark.’