Garden Lodge, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, London, June 1985

"My home..."

Freddie breathed in the cool air as he stood on the small terraced balcony of his master bedroom in his printed kimono, staring at the job that last week's wet and stormy weather had done to his garden below. The grass was green from the rainfall, the Japanese koi carps were back to swimming in the pond like slithers of orange and pearl, the vibrant bluebells were dotted around in several flower beds, and most disappointing of all the cherry tree that was in season was now bare after gail force winds stripped it of its blossoms. It was quite a task for Phoebe to rake up the petals on the pathway to the front door.

Soon enough the early morning breeze was nipping his lower legs, so he backed himself inside and shut the doors as he heard Monica toss and turn in his Queen-sized bed behind him, "See anything of interest out there?"

"Just a helicopter... and Goliath was doing a few laps around the house with Tiffany again" he cooed, untying the leash of his kimono.

Monica brought the duvet tighter around herself to keep the heat in as he clambered back onto the mattress, "You mean they were playing chase?"

"From the looks of it... why can't Johnny and Roshni play like that?" Freddie moulded himself against her from behind to absorb her warmth.

"They do. You only seem to notice when they're playing tricks on you" she kissed the knuckles of his hand that was slipped under the crook of her neck.

Freddie ignored her and began humming a ballad-like tune in her ear once he was settled again.

She could tell right away that it was another song idea of his just by how intricate it sounded and the plentiful amount of notes in each bar and because if that it was going to be a bass or piano-based song, or more likely synthesised.

"Mmm... that sounds nice," Monica's lips curled into a smile, "Is that yours, or John's?"

"Both. Just a new melody that had been chewing at my ear for some time," Freddie's other hand smoothed up and down her curves, "God, I wish you'd wear your silk pyjamas to bed more often."

"Silk is more comfortable," she flatly said, trying to maintain composure under his touch, "What will it be about, do you think?"

She heard Freddie's breath heaven behind her, "Don't know yet... companionship, maybe..."

"Ahhh..." was all Monica could answer back, feeling him lift her hair out of the way so that his lips could place light kisses on the nape of her neck.

"Maybe there's time for a quickie..." she thought, remembering that she was reuniting with her old friend from Belfast Paula McIntyre sometime later in the morning.

Paula was going on a solo camper van trip across Western Europe for the summer, and would be stopping in the city to visit Garden Lodge. It would be  Monica's first time meeting her since their trip to London together, but she knew so far that Paula's life took a different path to her own. After a foundation art course and health and social care degree she was still living with her parents. But she ended up working in art psychotherapy, and now she had bought herself a camper van with the money she'd earned. When Monica asked Paula why she didn't save it for a flat instead, her excuse was,"Fuel is cheaper than paying rent".

She wasn't wrong.

With his arms under her neck and her waist, Freddie was about to roll Monica over and onto her back so that he could properly kiss her when he heard the whirring of the slider doors.

"Pretend to be asleep... and no overdone snores" he quietly instructed, desperate to get his alone time with her before breakfast.

As Freddie got settled on his side Monica closed her eyes and slipped her arms up and underneath her pillow to make her pose under the covers more naturalistic, as if she was in a deep sleep.

They lay still for several seconds and listened as small foot steps approached their bed.

Freddie felt something small climb onto his side, and Johnny's voice sounded, "Up you go, Oscar. Why don't you sit on daddy's head?"

They felt their cat and son climb on top of the covers and force a space in between them. Freddie grunted in discomfort, eyes tightly shut, so Johnny awkwardly moved onto the other side of his mother.

"Mummy, open your eyes. I know you're both awake" Monica felt his small hands unravelling the duvet.

At that point she thought was right to drop the act, and she pretended to stir and stretch each limb, "Morning, sweetheart. Where's Roshni?"

"Playing on her Atari downstairs" Johnny answered and sat cross-legged, taking up more space.

She heard Freddie groan tiredly behind her, also breaking character, "Go play with her then"

"But it's a one-player game!" Johnny protested, letting Oscar climb onto his lap.

"Well, tell her I said that she should be sharing daddy's present from Japan with you and letting you take turns" Monica told him through a yawn.

Johnny tugged his father's arm, "You said you'd teach me how to play Scrabble when you got home!"

"Ahhh yes, the only game you like to play because you can actually win at it" she spoke into Freddie's ear.

He shot Monica a dirty look, then reluctantly sat up, "Listen Johnny, I will teach you how to play Scrabble after breakfast, alright?"

Johnny snarled, "That's because you would rather have kissy time with mummy!"

Monica started to unravel her duvet, "Alright, how about I make you breakfast-"

"Monica, don't succumb to his Oedipus complex" Freddie slid a furry, muscular arm in front of her, stopping her from leaving.

"What's an Oedipus complex?" Johnny asked innocently.

Monica pushed Freddie's arm out of the way, "Never mind that, just go downstairs and get out the Scrabble board game for when Paula gets here. She might want to play too."

Freddie sat upright in alarm, "Here? Since when was Paula coming heEEAAOOOWWW!!"

Johnny stepped on his father's crotch as he stood up, causing Freddie to yelp aloud. But the boy ignored it as he picked Oscar back up and declared, "You're all boring me to death"

His parents were silent until he'd stomped out of the master suite. When she was sure he and Oscar were gone, Monica turned on the pained man beside her, "You didn't have to be so hostile like that!"

Still clutching his groin in pain and his face scrunched up in annoyance, Freddie changed the subject, "You said that Paula was stopping in London on her bloody 'hippy van trip'!"

"Yes Fred, here ...And it's a camper van!" She too grew irritated.

"Well, same bloody difference!" He exclaimed, throwing the covers off himself , "I assumed when you said she was going to meet you for a catchup you'd be meeting in a cafe or something!"

"You mean to tell me that you didn't know this whole time?" Monica answered, a little more calmly this time, watching him march to the vanity and snatching the Denman hairbrush off of it, "I asked you if it was alright and you said yes!"

"Oh, fuck! Monica, if you keep on inviting members of the public to my house then I'm going to have to get confidentiality and liability forms printed out or something..." he spat, furiously brushing his hair backwards in the mirror.

It was not that Freddie disliked Paula, but whenever Monica said her name he'd blush and squirm at the memory of what took place in 1977. He accidentally walked into his living room in Stafford Terrace, fresh out of the shower and fully naked, not realising that the whole time Paula was standing wide-eyed in the corner of the room. Therefore although Monica hadn't met her friend ever since but did keep in touch with her via post cards and phone calls on Christmas and Birthdays,  Freddie dreaded the day that he'd ever have to meet Paula again.

"You're just being a diva now, Paula's a friend" Monica rolled onto her side and away from him, reaching to pick up her Motorola off of its cradle.

"Yeah, well... think of all the things that could happen" was all that he said, not wanting a repeat of the nudity incident.

"But she will finally get to meet the children," Monica flipped through her small leather-bound address book and pretended to look for her friend's telephone number, "She's only ever seen them in photographs that I've sent to her"

"I'm afraid that the real thing isn't like what is in the photos" he murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She paused.

"Nothing, nothing..." he dismissed, and when Monica didn't reply back he turned around, "What are you fumbling about for over there anyway?"

She smirked to herself, knowing that she had gotten his attention, "Telephoning my best friend from back home and telling her that my fiance doesn't think that she is welcome-"

"GIMME THAT!" Freddie cut across her as he dived onto the mattress, making a grab for the Motorola in her hand.

"Not so fast" Monica smugly swung it away from him when suddenly it started bleeping.

"Now what's the bloody brick doing?" Freddie fumbled and backed away, his steely brown glare morphing into wide-eyed confusion.

"It's ringing!" she furiously put her finger to her lips, signalling him to be quiet.

"That's not 'ringing', that's a fucking air raid siren!" Freddie melodramatically huffed under his breath and crossed his arms, wincing at the ear-piercing pitch.

Monica rolled her eyes and pressed the answer button, "Hello?...Paula?"

Freddie froze with dread when she said that name excitedly, listening closely as the tiny voice chattered away in Monica's ear.

"Too late to wriggle out of this one now" he thought with dread.

"Mmhm... hmm? ...Half an hour?" She mildly exclaimed.

"Oh fuck!" Freddie grumbled, "Tell her that is really short notice!"

"I'll be there," Monica ignored him as she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, "Just wait there until then... okay, I can't wait to see you again either! Bye!"

She put her Motorola back onto his cradle with a click, and Freddie flopped back onto the mattress with his arms sprawled out, "Unbe-fucking-leivable..."

"She's on the Kensington High Street," she pulled her pyjama top off over her head and took out a plain long sleeve navy blouse, "She thought that we were living in the same area as before"

"B-But if she's got a van then how will you get there?!" Freddie nagged.

"The tube," Monica replied, twisting and turning in the mirror as she buttoned up her bleach denim jeans, "Haven't taken it in a while anyway"

"Well, there goes my peaceful lie-in with my beautiful fiancé" she heard him purr across the room as she tucked her blue blouse under the waistband of her jeans.

That admitantly did make Monica's heart flutter, "Then how about we fill up the jacuzzi bath tonight after the kids are in bed and Phoebe's gone home?"

She felt Freddie hesitate behind her as she unscrewed her tube of mascara in front of the vanity, and quickly slicked it onto each eye as she waited for an answer.

"...It better be worth it."

Monica glanced at him behind her, and went to sit on his edge of the bed with a smirk, her voice softened to a sensual hush, "You just need to get through the next twelve hours, and it will be."

He looked back up at her adoringly, reaching up to tuck her unbrushed waves back from her heart-shaped face, "And then we can forget about everything else?"

"We can forget about everything else." Monica leaned down to kiss his lips.

He nuzzled her face slightly when they broke, "Promise me nothing bad will happen when Paula arrives"

"Cannot guarantee that. Just don't walk in on her naked like you did time and it'll be a breeze," she stood back up, trailing her fingers across his hairy chest as she slipped away from him, "Get the children dressed up. You're good at that."

"Only if they will let me, dear" rubbed his eyes.

Monica stepped into her white loafer shoes, then poked her head through the gap of the slider doors one more time before leaving, "By the way, Paula doesn't have a phone in her van. I just threatened to call her to guilt you into letting her visit"

"Why, you crafty cow..." Freddie turned his head away and smiled to himself.

It was as if the underwhelming chart performance of his recent debut solo album Mr Bad Guy and Jim Beach's persistent phone calls to him regarding the go-ahead for Live Aid in one month wasn't as bad enough as a stranger coming to his house.

"But  somehow," Freddie thought, "She always knows how to make it better... all three of them."

Outside, Monica was pondering about her choice of transport as she headed for the stairwell, "God, maybe I ought to drive there instead and lead the way to Garden Lodge... Oh, but the traffic! What if Paula falls behind following me?"

At that moment, she heard Phoebe below entering the house with the jingle of his keys, "Hello? Anybody awake? I'm here!"

A patter of small bare feet followed, "Will you play Scrabble with me, Phoebe?"

Monica rushed down the stair case in time to rescue the poor man from her son's enticements, the ordering him to do the first task of the day in the Garden Lodge household, "Johnny, be a big boy and fill up the cats' bowls with their breakfast in the back room"

Still in his Spider-Man pyjamas, Johnny pretended to sulk into the kitchen, slim green box with the board game in his hands.

"Nice to see him taking an active interest in words," Phoebe chuckled as he took his red chequered jacket off, "Where are you off to?"

"Paula's going to be here early," she took her white and brown leather bag off the brass coat hanger, "Do you think you could make the breakfast? Freddie's going to get them  dressed."

"How soon? This wasn't part of the plan!" His tone grew panicked as he followed her into the kitchen.

"This is typical of Paula, always changing plans..." Monica sighed as she heard Johnny slam the box onto the kitchen table, "Anyway, she said for me to meet her on Kensington High Street in half an hour"

"Crickey!" Phoebe opened the fridge, "But what will you eat?"

Monica grabbed an apple and unripened green banana from the Waterford crystal fruit bowl and dashed to the back door, "I'll fix myself up something when I return... be good, Johnny!"

"Yes, mummyyyy!!" Johnny discreetly rolled his eyes towards Phoebe as he hauled the large bag of Purina cat mix towards their small bowls, a hungry Oscar chirruping at his feet.

In response, Monica blew her son a kiss before shutting the door, a gust of wind blowing through her dark, unbrushed hair the moment she stepped outside.

Phoebe chuckled, looking outside the window at the cloud-covered sky as she walked past, "Will you go upstairs and wake your dad and your sister?"

"No need, he stepped on my-me this morning and that woke me up alright" Freddie accusingly remarked as he entered the kitchen, then started to scold Tiffany and Goliath in each of his arms, "And now these two won't stop having a go at one another!"

"Morning, boss" Phoebe greeted him from the hob.

"Good morning, Phoebe" Freddie let the cats hop out of his grip and scurry towards their bowls, now both at peace, "Is Roshni still in front of the television?"

"I don know yet, haven't checked. Why?"

"Because I want our dress up our two babies for our guest" Freddie affectionately ruffled Johnny's hair as he walked past.

"I'm six years old, dad" Johnny spat back.

"Well then, you can wash your face and comb your own hair upstairs," His father pointed out the door, "Paula might have nits, you know"

Johnny muttered something incomprehensible as he exited the kitchen, and Phoebe spoke up when he disappeared, "You don't like this lady very much, do you?" 

"I just said that so he'd do as he's told," Freddie sighed, "Help me look for Roshni... I can't let them run around dressed like ragamuffins. I want to remind Paula that she's not in Belfast anymore."

"Your daughter is going to love being forced to wear a designer dress" Phoebe jibed sarcastically.

"Have you seen what Monica lets them go out of the house in when I'm not there?" Freddie argued.

"You're one to talk!" Phoebe wanted to say with regards to the yellow sweatshirt and grey tracksuit bottoms at his boss was wearing two days in a row, but instead he shrugged, "Princess Diana lets the princes wear baseball caps and denim, so I hear"

"That's because dressing like a commoner is a treat for the blue-blooded" Freddie stopped at the oak door into the piano room, listening for the electronic sounds of Roshni's Atari.

Phoebe opened it a crack and peered into the large darkened room where the black-haired little girl was sitting cross-legged in front of the television set, still in her long-sleeved floral nightie and fully engrossed in an 8-bit utopia on the screen.

He gently called out her name, "Roshni?"

"Roshni, time to get off that" Freddie pushed past him and switched the light on.

"Why?" The girl lowered the controller in slight dismay.

"Because mummy's friend from Belfast is coming" Phoebe bent down to the television set to switch it off.

"But-I was in the middle of playing that!" Roshni protested.

"Come on, darling," Freddie stretched his arms down to her, "Let's get you dressed up"

"But you always make me and Johnny match our clothes" she reluctantly let her father lift her up off the carpet.

"Don't be silly, you'll look like Liz Taylor in Lassie Come Home when I'm done with you" he kissed his daughter on the cheek and put her on his hip.

Roshni complained as she held onto him, "But I don't want to look like her! Whoever she is..." 

Phoebe chuckled and watched Freddie carry her away, thinking to himself, "Poor man. Little princesses don't stay little princesses forever."

"Alright, now it's my turn to have a go!" Johnny suddenly sped in from the kitchen, a smile on his fresh face and his brown bangs neatly combed above his twinkling brown eyes.

"Oh no no, later," Phoebe unplugged the Atari from the wall and pointed to the doorway, "Follow your dad and sister back upstairs to get dressed in time for breakfast."

"Oh no, I hate the way he dresses us up!" the boy huffed but obediently stomped back out the door.

Phoebe ignored him and looked for a high spot on a shelf or a Japanese dresser to stack the games console out of the twins' reach, thinking about how it was such a shame that Monica hardly got any visitors of her own yet her family was not willing to oblige...

*****

High Street Kensington Underground Station

"Mind, the gap... Mind, the gap... Stand clear of the doors, please..."

Monica stepped out of the train carriage, trying to ignore the pushing and shoving from fellow passengers around her. It seemed as though every hour was rush hour in London.

"No wonder Freddie would rather be driven around" she thought aloud, looking up at the ceiling signs for a 'way out' sign.

She almost forgot that one of the first unofficial rules of the London Underground was that if you weren't in a hurry to get anywhere, you had to stand on one side of the escalators to let the pedestrian traffic pass you on the other. But Monica was reminded of this the hard way when one of the many suited and booted businessmen shoved her out of the way.

Monica looked at the overhead clock at the entrance of the escalators as she regained her balance, "Maybe I should take the fast lane. I'm already late..."

Her heart began to race as she sprinted up the steps, and it wasn't because of the the low ceiling and closed-in walls with posters advertising West End musicals left her feeling very claustrophobic; she was going to reunite with her old friend at any minute.

When she exited the arched entrance of the station, Paula told her to keep on the lookout for a lawn-green camper van parked along the high street, a Fiat Pandora to be exact. It shouldn't have been too hard now that the 1960s were long gone, there were barely any spaces to park and there weren't many camper vans in Kensington anyway.

"Well, there goes my defence against the paparazzi" Monica pushed her sunglasses up in the hope that she would be recognisable to Paula from a distance, for she did not know how to watch out for her.

"Will she have changed?" Monica wondered as she walked along, "Will I have changed?"

She looked back down at the outfit she'd thrown on before she left the house. It was clear that she had taken a page or two from Freddie's vogue magazines over the years, and the Givency cat eye sunglasses were not helping.

"So much for first impressions... I look like Jackie O" she couldn't help being reminded of her snooty aunt on her mother's side who married a financially-stable man in the south of Ireland that owned a yacht. That was the last woman she'd ever wanted to become.

Monica had been so lost in her thoughts that a woman's loud accented voice not far off startled her:

"Excuse me now, pretty lady with the brown hair?! Just where do you think you're going?!"

She spun around to see the woman she'd been looking for  was casually slouched on an aluminium bistro chair outside a cafe several yards away.

"P-Paula?" Monica let out breathily, "Paula McIntyre?"

With a smirk, Miss McIntyre tipped her white-rimmed sunglasses down her nose to reveal her kohl-lined green eyes that were unmistakable from a distance, "Long time no see, eh?"

They squealed in delight as they rushed over and collided with one another, hugging each other and cooing about how much they missed each other and how long it had been. People on the street walking past probably thought that the two women were insane, but they didn't care. It felt just like old times for them.

"Oh, let me see you!" Monica pulled away from their embrace.

Paula was unrecognisable. Her sandy brown hair was now bleached peroxide blonde and cropped into a boyish quiff, she swapped her staple glitter rollerball lipgloss from her teenage years for blackcurrant purple lipstick, and she was wearing a Breton shirt with burgundy capris and yellow birkenstocks. A woman who once favoured the natural and healthy look of the 1970s was finally matching her personality and making a bold statement.

"You've cut your hair an inch or so," Paula ran a hand though Monica's wavy locks, "And stopped straightening it!"

She blushed and shrugged, "Curly hair is in and everyone's getting perms, but I don't need one... anyway, enough about me! Look at you! You look more like you're from Bananarama than Belfast!"

"Aye, I figured I'd go for the chop last year," Paula nonchalantly said as if nothing else much had drastically changed, "Getting older, might as well go shorter"

Monica giggled, "You? Old? You're only 25!"

"26!" Paula corrected her, "My birthday was last week!"

"Oh damn, I forgot!" Monica slapped her forehead, "I would've gotten you something only-"

"Don't worry! You were always such a worrier, Mo," she pulled her into a hug again, calling her by her old abbreviated nickname, "A chance to meet your children and visit Freddie Mercury's house is as good as anything!"

Monica hugged her back, closing her eyes to absorb the moment, "It's so good to see you again..."

"Come on, I must take time to show you my van before we hit the road," Paula's arm stacked with plastic neon bangles grabbed Monica's wrist, "My front seat passenger is probably growing impatient anyway! I had to park somewhere out of the way and grab a bite to eat."

"You brought someone else with you?" Monica smirked as her friend dragged her along.

It wasn't part of the plan, but she knew that Freddie wouldn't mind an extra guest. Anyway, she thought that the more the merrier.

Paula simply winked over her shoulder, "Aye, I hope he won't be too much trouble, but I couldn't leave him behind in Belfast."

Monica cocked a brow, remembering that Paula wasn't one to stick to the same guy for long, "He? What's his name? Have you finally settled down a bit?"

"His name is Max," She answered, counting a few bank notes to leave under the ashtray on the aluminium table to pay for her breakfast, "And not exactly. You're in for a bit of a surprise."

"Max..." Monica sounded to herself, "And a surprise? I'll say..."

To Be Continued.