Russell Hoban: Her Name Was Lola

‘Quick!’ she says, ‘he’s got duct tape. Tape his hands before he comes to. I’m Lola Bessington.’

‘I know who you are, Lola,’ says Max. ‘I’m Max.’

‘How do you do,’ says Lola, standing with both hands on her heart. ‘I’m Lola Bessington.’

‘I’m Max,’ says Max, unconsciously imitating her with his hands on his heart. Having secured Geoffrey, he says, ‘Who’s this?’

‘He’s not nice,’ says Lola. ‘Make him go away.’

Lady Bessington, who is a magistrate, phones the police. The formalities are taken care of and Geoffrey’s banged up in the local nick pending charges. While this is going on Max and Lola are standing there with their arms around each other even though Lola in her state of forgetfulness has only just met him. Perhaps some part of her remembers. The fog has cleared and it looks like being a nice day.

So there it is then. Although Max might have done better in the fidelity department, he’s had destiny on his side. What happens now? Well, Lola’s memory comes back, and she and Max get married at the next vernal equinox: 20 March on Kirsty’s Knowe which, as part of Diamond Heart, has approval for such things. The wedding is an odd little affair, done to Lola’s requirements. There’s no marquee, the whole thing takes place under the sky in which, in this Northern Hemisphere, Ursa Major never sinks below the horizon. It’s a civil ceremony performed by the local registrar but Lola’s in her wedding dress and looking every inch the bride. Max is in proper Moss Bros regalia. Seamus Flannery is best man. Harold Klein would have been among the fifty or so invited guests but has had a fatal rendezvous with a 14 bus a few years back. Hariprasad and Indira Ghosh are there with several other musicians to play Lola’s ‘Smriti’. Noah holds up one corner of his mother’s train and a blonde and blue-eyed Belgravia nymphet has the other. One or two of the guests say ‘who’s that girl in the shawl?’ ‘What girl is that?’ say the ones spoken to. Lord Bessington gives his daughter away with a good grace and Lady Bessington laughs and cries as appropriate. She can’t help thinking what a handsome couple Lola and Basil would have made but she has learned to connect with the changes around her. At the end of the ceremony Lola and Max join hands and recite the names of the seven stars of Ursa Major. Lola’s looking into Max’s eyes as they do this and this time around he feels fully real. They’ve been lucky too, because it hasn’t rained.

The wedding party drive back to Belgravia and this evening there is a proper reception with a big marquee in the garden and a cast of hundreds. Basil was invited but couldn’t make it. The music is provided by The Serenaders, a band who have climbed out of their coffins to schmaltzify the four main Lola songs along with various golden oldies. The young dance to these in the postmodern manner and their seniors do it their way. Lord Bessington regales guests with his account of Max’s impeccable behaviour in the rescue of Lola from the dentist. After a certain amount of champagne and private tuition from Max he joins his son-in-law in a chorus of the Kinky Friedman classic ‘They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Any More’. Lady Bessington laughs and cries some more and tells friends and relatives that Max, who is quite well known to an elite readership, is hard at work on his next novel.

As everyday life resumes Lola carries on with her music and she and Noah (sponsored by Daddy) perform at Wigmore Hall. Charlotte Prickles finds her rhythm again with Charlotte Prickles and the Orphans’ Canoe Trip. And Max is well on his way to Page One of Moe Levy’s Second Chance. The raven and his father’s Noah’s Ark join the lares et penates of his new family and are at home there. Apasmara goes back under Shiva’s right foot and is looking forward to his next breakout.

In moments of intimacy, sometimes when they’re outside looking up at the stars, Lola says to Max, ‘I love you but you don’t deserve me.’

‘I know,’ says Max.

The Garibaldi Restaurant and the Diamond Heart Centre exist only in my imagination. For help with the real world I owe thanks to:

John Guy of the Far Eastern Department of the Victoria and Albert Museum for Apasmara sources.

Gundula, my wife, for advice on Lola’s wardrobe and various London sites.

Catherine Frost of the Dorset County Museum and her family for Maiden Castle photographs and notes; John Meyer of Guy Salmon Jaguar for E-type background; Robert Massey of the Greenwich Observatory for astronomical data; the Dorset police for procedural information; my son, Dr Ben Hoban, for medical facts.

Shambhu and Punita Gupta of Indian Music Promotions for descriptions and demonstrations of traditional instruction in Indian classical music and the sarod; Iseabail Macleod of Scottish Language Dictionaries for dialect assistance; Charles Simpson of the Registration Office of Buckie for information on wedding permissions.

Carole Lee for details of Grace Kowalski’s workroom.

Dominic Power for readings of successive drafts and useful comments.