Last Friends is the third novel in Jane Gardam’s trilogy that began with Old Filth and continued with The Man in the Wooden Hat. Having read and loved both those novels, I felt pretty sure what to expect in this last book. The first focused on Sir Edward Feathers, barrister in Hong Kong and London, promoted to judge, Old Filth himself. The second focused on his wife, Betty. Surely the third would focus on Terry Veneering, Edward’s legal nemesis (also a barrister and a judge) and Betty’s (not so) secret lover. Even the book flap announces as much: “Last Friends is Terence Veneering’s turn.” In addition, I was sure that the last friends of the title referred to Feathers and Veneering, who, ending up as neighbors after Betty died, spend time together playing chess and chatting. Well, I was sort of right about all of this, but what this novel delivered went way beyond my narrow expectations. One thing I continue to learn about Jane Gardam is that what I expect is not necessarily all that interests her. In addition to what I expected, each of these novels contains surprises and reversals of what I thought I knew from reading the ones before it. Different perspectives definitely, but just a merely different view is way too simple a way of talking about what this third novel brings to its readers. Entire areas of knowledge that were barely alluded to before are now revealed at length.
Yet as I read the book, the entire beginning of this novel seemed out of place to me. Here I was supposed to be learning about Terry Veneering, his own life and his views of both Betty and Edward. We begin with at Feathers’ funeral, which seemed a good place to begin, but instead of sliding over to Terry Veneering, we meet up again with Dulcie, the quite elderly widow of Pastry Willy, who had been yet another judge and a former colleague of both Edward and Terry. We meet her daughter and twelve year-old grandson, who are visiting from the United States. The relationship between this mother and daughter is just chillingly real. Another funeral attendee is Fiscal-Smith, an attorney who knew both Feathers and Vennering. He manages to get Dulcie to take him to her house, where he becomes (and remains) an unwelcome guest. After a series of interesting and humorous adventures, Dulcie, who was always wishing Fiscal-Smith would just leave, gets up the nerve to suggest he pack his bags and go. He does. While I enjoyed reading this section of the novel, for the longest time I thought its very existence as the extended book’s opening a deep fault of a book that was supposed to be about Veneering.
We eventually do shift to Veneering’s story. We meet him in his childhood home—he is the son of a brilliant but dissolute old Russian and a sweet but not-so-smart young English girl. We come to understand that Veneering (a name he took on later, his father’s name was Venetski) is a lucky young man. Gardam describes a series of fortunate happenings that save his life at least twice over despite the German bombings on England and its surroundings (including the open seas) and introduce him to kind people of wealth who are willing to aid him. As a young man he is clearly Fortune’s favorite child, a status that does last his lifetime as we watch him suffer some great losses later. But the novel does not stay long with Veneering as its central character. We return to Dulcie and, finally, to Fiscal-Smith, a character we’ve disdained throughout the first two novels and the first half of this third novel. He’s a lonely old bore whose company no one wants. Gardam works her magic and makes him interesting and almost sympathetic. Fiscal-Smith’s story does overlap with all the other characters’ stories, including Veneering’s, so I might be a bit unfair to say Gardam entirely abandons Veneering. Perhaps it’s best to say that revising our attitudes about Fiscal-Smith and spending more time inside the slightly muddled mind of the very old Dulcie seemed more important to Gardam. In the end, she convinced me that those two were worthy of my extended attention. No matter which direction Gardam chooses, I find I always want to go her way—even if I thought I had very good reasons why it’s the wrong way. She’s that good a storyteller. By the novel’s end, I no longer thought the way this book began (and ended) was a mistake, but I have to admit I spent a fair amount of my reading time complaining to myself.