ASHLEE-ELIDETH MISSION IS TAKING ITS COURSE BUT NOBODY SAID SAVING FREDDIE MERCURY WAS GOING TO BE AN EASY TASK. WOULD YOU LIKE READ ON HER ADVENTURES?
They had congratulated me on my article about the last Queen show at Wembley and I knew that was very unusual. Among journalists, like among writers, jealousy flew freely. No matter how much you liked a review, the praises were quite unusual in the press.
I received the praises with obvious pleasure because probably was the harder review I wrote so far. I had lived through very bizarre shows but not like this one. And the biggest difficulty was that damn Killer. Not writing about her 5 minutes performance would have been stupid. Writing too much about her, a real heresy. So I had to find the balance to put down what those 12.500 souls at Wembley could witness. Killer had got it. For some days I had the writers block.
Stieg Magnusson, Evening Standard's editor in chief saw something in my words to her that exceded the simple journalist remark.
- Do you know her?
- Yes, sure. She's Freddie's costume...
- I don't mean that. If you know her in other context. If you are friends.
- Hmmm... Sometimes -I let out a sad smile.
- Polley, are you aware our switchboard had overwhelmed? Everybody is asking about Nina Barron's record.
- It's understandable. She could do it if she liked. I think she could do anything.
Despite between Killer and I funnily enough had begun the war formally speaking and we were moving still in that difused field of tensed calm before unload, my words could only be loving. Not love for her, sure. Love for music. If Stalin had got on that stage and his key notes would make me levitate, I would also feel love. An evil and depraved person, manipulative, envious and destroyer as Killer was able to make our hearts beating like drums, all at the same time.
I wrote a paragraph of five lines about her, not one more word. Just five lines. I was writing about Queen and nothing else could exist to eclipse them. Of course in my article it would be like this. But Killer deserved I could try to explain her the best I could.
Besides, there was the unquestionable fact of her miscarriage and I felt that's justified a respite in our war declaration. I felt so sorry for her and I felt like I could feel her own pain. It wasn't hard for me. My fucking empathy.
- You too?
Mary's invitation to having tea in her flat and having that meeting that we've been postponed such a long time, suited me fine now. She had the Evening Standard folded in showbiz page. Mark had chosen Freddie's photo throwing his robe on the floor wearing his short lamé red catsuit.
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- What?
- You're reading the article too.
- I read all your articles. I've always read them.
- Really?
- Uh-huh. At first I did it to calm my pain, ignoring the enemy was not an option for me.
