Freddie’s REAL queen
Former lover Mary Austin nursed him to the end, and confided her deepest feelings to David Wigg
Mary Austin, the only woman Freddie ever loved, was a pretty, fair-haired 19-yearold with green eyes when they first met in 1970. She happened to wander over to the stall he ran with Roger Taylor in Kensington Market. Freddie invited her to come and see their band, and when she agreed a lifelong relationship began. Mary and I subsequently became good friends too, and the film will surely be deeply moving for her.
Over the years she has confided much to me about her unbreakable bond with Freddie, how she nursed him through his illness and struggled to come to terms with his death. ‘I remember Freddie’s massive black hair, which made him look like a cavalier,’ she recalled to me of that first meeting. ‘He was like no one I’d ever met before. He was very confident and I’ve never been that confident. We grew together.
I liked him and it went on from there. It took about three years for me to really fall in love.’ In his will, Freddie left Mary his Kensington home and a 50 per cent share of all his wealth and future income from records and publishing, a fortune far removed from her childhood. Her parents were both deaf and lived in a terraced house in Fulham, but she and Freddie soon moved into a £10-a-week bedsit in Victoria Road, Kensington.
‘We had so little money then that we could only afford one pair of curtains and so we hung them in the bedroom, and we had to share the bathroom and kitchen with another couple.’ After two years the couple moved to a larger flat nearby that cost them £19 a week and life seemed blissfully happy, but soon Mary, played in the film by Lucy Boynton – who looks very much like the young Mary – began to feel something was wrong.
‘Even if I didn’t want to admit it, I realised something was going on. So I decided to discuss it with Freddie. I said: “Something’s going on and I feel like a noose around your neck. I think it’s time for me to go.” But he insisted nothing was wrong. ‘Then one day in the kitchen he sat me down and said he wanted to talk. He just came out with it: “I think I’m bisexual.” I said: “No Freddie, I don’t think you’re bisexual – I think you’re gay.” Nothing else was said and we just hugged. Then he said: “I realised I had a choice. The choice was not to tell you, but I think you’re entitled to your own life.” And I thought, “Yes, as much as you’re entitled to yours.”’ She decided she should move out, but Freddie insisted she didn’t move
too far away from him. ‘Eventually we found a place nearby and his music publishing company bought it for me. I could see Freddie’s home from my bathroom. I thought: “Oh, I’m never going to get away.” But I didn’t mind.’ As another way of keeping Mary close, Freddie made her company secretary to his companies, Goose Productions and Mercury Songs, which he ran from his home. It meant Mary had to visit the house more or less every day to keep account of the royalties that were coming in. Mary would go on to have two children by the painter Piers Cameron, and Freddie was thrilled when she had her first son Richard. He taught the boy to say his first words – ‘tractor’ and ‘guitar’ – and agreed to be his godfather. ‘There was definitely a part of Freddie that would have liked a family, a happy home and children,’ she has said to me. In fact Freddie’s illness and the story of how gentle Mary Austin nursed him and became the inheritor of his Kensington mansion, his art collection and his six beloved cats could easily make a sequel movie. Freddie confided that he was HIV positive to her long before he told his bandmates, and she was there each day to try to comfort him as he became more ill. ‘As he started to lose his sight and his body became weak to the point that he was unable to get out of bed, Freddie decided to end it all by refusing to take his medication.
It was Freddie’s decision – he chose the time to die,’ she told me in a whisper. ‘The quality of his life had changed so dramatically and he was in more and more pain every day. One day he decided enough was enough. He just turned off. ‘The overwhelming thing for me was that he was so incredibly brave. He looked death in the face and said: “Fine, I’ll accept it now – I’ll go.” But it was peaceful and he died with a smile on his face. I’d rather it had happened the other way round, though. I should have gone first – I’d rather he miss me than I miss him.’ When he told her he intended to leave her his mansion, her first reaction was shock. She was terrified of taking on such a responsibility and urged him to place the house, with its collection of antique furniture and paintings, in trust as a museum.
Freddie considered it, but decided he wanted Mary to have something permanent in her life. ‘If things had been different, you would have been my wife and this would have been yours anyway,’ he told her. He also tasked her with dealing with his ashes, and made her promise she’d never tell where they were hidden. ‘He didn’t want anyone trying to dig him up as had happened to people like Charlie Chaplin,’ she told me. ‘Fans can be obsessive.
He wanted it to remain a secret and it will.’ After his death Mary moved into his home, but it was five years before she could bring herself to sleep in his bedroom. Until then she’d left everything untouched. ‘I’d spent so long with him being unwell, and there were so many memories in that room. Memories of him suffering. I just saw this frail man lying in his bed and remembered all the little things I used to do for him. Combing his hair, because he’d lie back and it would all be sticking up. ‘During those times I really felt such love for him. They were the moments I remembered every time I looked at his bed. I would sit every day next to the bed for six hours when he was ill, whether he was asleep or not. He would suddenly wake up and smile and say: “Oh, it’s you, old faithful.”
’ There is one particularly poignant memory of that time. As his life ebbed away, Freddie would watch DVD footage of his performances. ‘Once he turned to me and said sadly: “To think I used to be so handsome.” I got up and had to leave the room,’ she recalled. ‘It was too upsetting. We were never allowed to get emotional around him and that was hard. But I knew if I sat there I would have ended up in tears. When I came back I sat down as if nothing had happened. But he’d caught me off guard.’ When Mary sees the film, it will almost certainly be a reminder of the Freddie she fell in love with – not that she’s ev er forgotten his love for her.