Let Your Heart Rule Your Head

Epilogue

Brian got out of the Wembley Stadium, tightly holding his guitar case, in which his Red Special was taking a nap. He was walking sadly and suddenly, he didn't seem to be 44 and a half, but ten years older. He couldn't stop thinking about Ruby he saw in the crowd. One of the security guards stopped him.
"Have a nice evening, Mr May. By the way, a fan gave me this letter for you, she seemed to be very determined."
The guard gave him the letter he was holding. Brian took it and thanked him in a weak voice. Nothing was written on the envelope. No address, no name. He made his way to his car, put his Red Special into the trunk and got inside, sitting on the driver's seat. He ran a hand on his face and sighed. "Let's read that fucking letter." He tore up the envelope and threw it on the empty seat next to him. He unfolded the letter, on which a phone number was written, and a photograph fell on his knees. He didn't pay attention to it and started to read the letter.

"Dear Brian,

You may have forgotten who I am, but I never forgot who you are. How could I? You're famous, now!
First of all, I send you all my condolences for Freddie's death. I remember his first audition, in this tiny room of the Imperial College. Even when we were young, he already rocked.
I'm also sorry for Harold's death, a few years ago now. All my prayers go to him. I don't know about your mother, but if she's still here, thank her for all the things she did and was ready to do for me.

I don't really know what to tell you. I just wanted to know how's your life been. Your REAL life, not the life you led with the band. Now you have children, that's great. I bet you're as like as two peas in a pod! If it's the case, they're incredibly lucky; you became more and more gorgeous through the years.

I still can't get this afternoon of 1969 out of my mind. Your voice screaming my name still sounds in my head and it haunts me. It's been 23 years, and I feel like it was yesterday. My father died last year, and I felt eased. Am I cruel, Bri?
As for me, I'm now a doctor in a hospital in Paris, and I'm working on the cure for liver failure. I'm sure Dennis could be proud. I have been engaged to a very nice man, but I finally refused to marry him. I've never been married by far, and I won't be at 44. It's too hard with a child. I gave birth to a wonderful daughter in April 1970. I joined a photograph of her with the letter. Do you recognise her dark curly hair and her hazel eyes? Her name is May Ruth, she's 22, and she inherited of your talent. She sings and plays the guitar very well – like her dad – and she's studying Physics in Paris. Her college named her the best student of the department of Physics. Is it hereditary? I'm sure you would love her, every time I look at her, I see you. She looks like you, and she does the same things. When you started your career as Queen, I bought every record that was released. I didn't miss one. I also bought Roger's solo albums, and I'm going to buy the one you're recording. I made sure May listened to them, and she fell in love with your music.

I'm currently staying in London for two weeks, in Edith Grove, where I used to live. My aunt bought the house and she passed away ten years ago. Now, my cousin Jane owns it and she suggested I could stay. You know what? My bedroom and Dennis's are still in the same state we left them. They've just been cleaned, of course. I wrote my phone number on the back of this letter, I'd love to see you face to face, at least a last time in my whole life. Otherwise, you can still come to Edith Grove.

Brian, you may not love me anymore, and I understand it perfectly. But just know that I still do. My love for you never disappeared, and I'm still devoted to you. Just like when we were young.

I'm waiting for your call.
With love,


Ruby F.

PS: Tell Roger that I incredibly miss him too, and that I always knew he'd succeed."


A teardrop fell on the paper. Brian wiped it and sniffed. His hand shivered as he picked up the photograph on his knees. He tood a deep breath and looked at it. A huge smile appeared on his face. "A girly me!" It was true, she looked like him a lot. "She's my daughter..." He couldn't believe it. He felt incredibly happy and regretful at the same time. He pressed the letter against his heart. His fist clenched; he promised himself that the day after, he'd go to Edith Grove and make up for lost time...


... And he did.