Author's Note: for narrative purposes, one of the events taking place in this chapter has been switched to a different date in which it actually took place within Queen's band history...

Somewhere along Regent Street, Westminster, Friday 5th September, 1986

       Dear Miss Brannigan,

According to the skills and qualities outlined in your application and personal statement, combined with your extensive work experience, the faculty of arts and humanities finds you to be an exceptional candidate whose pre-existing industrial knowledge in media and moving image production would benefit further from a bachelor's degree in film and media production studies...

Despite attending six applicant interviews and making three project submissions, it was that very extract in the Royal Polytechnic Institution's unconditional acceptance letter addressed to Monica that eventually convinced her to attend their faculty and study film and media production.

Several months after it had arrived at Garden Lodge and it was now Fresher's Week at the Polytechnic. And Monica was on her way to officially start her first day at her chosen University with her best friend Paula McIntyre in tow for support, rushing down Regent Street with a handful of resumes, campus maps and information leaflets in her fists.

"You know, you really didn't have to walk me here" She glanced at her wristwatch as she increased her pace, "I already went there for registration yesterday."

"It's alright, Mo," Paula assured her, keeping up by her friend's side and helping her put some of the papers into Monica's pea-green winter coat pocket, "I wanted to see where the building is"

"Who's minding Max then?" Monica asked, digging through her other pocket for the campus map.

"I have a retired neighbour upstairs who I ask to refill his bowl now and again, he'll be fine" her friend answered.

It wasn't long until they both reached the campus, which was almost hidden in plain sight. Hadn't it been for the University's name above the entrance then it would've looked like many of London city's buildings, with its grand yet inconspicuous exterior architecture.

"Well, here we are!" Paula cheered when they stopped at the doors, "After ten years, Monica is finally a student! How does it feel?"

Monica's face fell the moment Paula had asked that. She probably should've felt nervous, perhaps even proud of herself, excited and optimistic to be starting a new chapter in her life.

But today also happened to be Freddie's birthday, and all that she felt was guilt and selfishness on account of missing it.

"What's wrong?" Paula noticed that her friend went still and was staring into space.

Monica was thinking back to the visible hurt on his face when she told him only a few days ago that she wouldn't be able to attend, and after all that they had been through in 1986 she felt as though she was throwing another spanner in the works.

"Oh Paula, this induction day couldn't have come at a worse time," she muttered remorsefully, "Freddie is turning forty today, he probably feels bad about getting old."

"Catch yourself on, Mo!" Paula scoffed, "Surely he's missed you and the twins' birthdays for being on tour all the time and doing what's important to him"

"You're not wrong, there were a few anomalies" she said under her breath, unfolding her campus map.

Paula continued, "Besides, he'll be alright after a few cocktails and champers no doubt."

But that didn't make Monica feel any better.

"It's no ordinary garden party either, it's a themed hat party... I bet Johnny and Roshni would've loved it too" Monica thought aloud sadly, recalling how the twins both begged her and Phoebe to allow them to go the moment one of them spotted their daddy's colourfully printed and designed invites in the Garden Lodge office before they were sent out.

But alas, Johnny and Roshni had been in Ireland for almost a week now to attend boarding school. And Monica was more worried for them living away from home in Headfort than she was for herself going back into education for the first time since 1977.

"Come 'ere" Paula opened her arms, and her friend obliged as she spoke into her ear, "I know you worry for them both, and I know that you feel bad about missing Freddie's birthday as well... But this is only a few hours of the day for yourself, alright?"

Monica nodded quietly. She felt a little better and less agitated, with the hopes that today would be over and done with quickly.

She broke away from Paula, and paused when she reached the first step, "I'll see you later at the party, yeah?"

Paula nodded with a small smile, "You know I'll be there"

Monica gave a small wave and climbed up the rest of the steps before calling after herself, "Oh! And don't forget to bring your hat! You did make one, right?"

"But of course I did! Good luck!" Paula waved back with a chuckle as she continued further back down the sidewalk.

Monica watched her friend disappear into the crowds of the morning rush before she went inside into the main hall with a grand mahogany staircase which was flocked with students and professors alike. She found it hard to believe that, for the next three year, she too was going to be just like one of them.

She looked at the map and her schedule, muttering to herself as she got organised, "Right, I have to be at lecture theatre number 0.008 for... for an introduction to film studies, part one... which is on the second floor, alright..."

Inside the campus wasn't very difficult to navigate, for within a minute Monica was at the correct door on the correct level.

She quietly opened it and entered a big, pitch black space with a large projector screen and stage lights at the front that lit up the room, much like a cinema. There seemed to be no professor or lecturer, yet but rather a hum in the air coming from students in the audience who sat in small groups, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Already it was worlds away from her day-to-day life.

Monica stood at the top of the room and looked for where to sit. Everybody else looked at least several years younger than her, or at least fresh out of high school. So young that she immediately thought that she was the only one in the room with a wedding ring.

She instinctively reached to slide the band off of her left ring finger.

"How could you, Monica..." her moral compass interjected, stopping her, "and on Freddie's birthday too?"

But she knew that if her new fellow classmates saw her diamond then soon enough everybody would start asking questions as to whom her fiancé and family was, which was something that Monica very much wanted to keep private. And she didn't want to have to tell lies or make up excuses either, for that would only complicate things later.

"Stop kidding yourself, Mo, you don't want to be known as the one who is Freddie Mercury's bimbo, do you?" she told herself, "Just take it off for the time being."

Besides, after being engaged to Freddie for almost eight years she no longer saw a wedding in the near future, and it didn't hurt as much as it probably should have...

So, she awkwardly tucked it into the deepest pocket of her bleached denim jeans and continued to eye where to sit. And at last a few rows down she saw a girl with mousy brown hair and rather retro-looking bangs and flipped-out ends, and wearing a mod yellow jumper to match. Somehow she wasn't as intimidating as the rest, perhaps because of not only her prim appearance but also because she was sitting alone.

Monica carefully walked down the aisle steps in the dark, trying her best to approach her without startling her, "Excuse me?"

The girl quickly lifted her head from her notebook on her lap and looked up at her with hazel eyes, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, you don't mind if I sit next to you?" She whispered.

"Of course!" she answered in a treacly voice, lifting her leather backpack off the seat beside her.

"Thanks," Monica gave a shy smile and sat down, holding her hand out and introducing herself, "My name is Monica, by the way"

She shook her hand in return, "Florence"

"What a pretty name," Monica complimented, "After the character from The Magic Roundabout?"

"Uhm, the city actually," Florence corrected her, and bashfully added, "That's what happens when your parents are art history professors at Cambridge"

"God, what a way to make me feel both old and uncultured" Monica thought with embarrassment, but laughed it off.

Florence also giggled along with her, and asked, "So, what brings you into film school?"

"What does she want me to say? A miscarriage, half-failing relationship, getting made redundant?" she thought sarcastically.

"I used to work as a set runner slash script supervisor for an independent media production company for a few years... right before it went bankrupt," Monica told her the truth but was careful not to give away too much information, "Then I decided to take my skill further, and my ex-boss still found the time to write my university reference for me. What about you?"

"Oh, I'm here because I love film theory!" Florence gushed quietly, "I want to be a film critic for journalism when I graduate, so this film studies module will be perfect!"

"I thought that everyone hated film critics" Monica naively joked, only to regret it a second later.

"Oh they do, they're up there with parking inspectors," the girl agreed with a little laugh, "But it's seriously misunderstood and there's so much more to it, stuff that they don't even teach you in school"

"There is?" she involuntarily queried.

"Yes!" Florence continued, "To be honest with you... this university wasn't my first choice for it either"

"It wasn't? Where did you want to go originally?" Monica decided to let her do all the talking, for she didn't have much to add.

"I wanted to go to America, preferably the university of Iowa," she explained, "That's where David Bordwell and Kristen Thompson teach"

"Sorry, who?" Monica asked, getting increasingly clueless.

"The authors of Film Art: An Introduction?" Florence answered, expecting her to know.

Monica stared back at her blankly, "What's that?"

"Only the bible of cinema theory!" A young, heavy-set man with fair hair and clear glasses who was wearing a vivid neon-patterened jumper inserted himself into their conversation.

The manner in which he said that, as well as the way in which he invited himself to sit on the other side of Florence, took Monica aback and made her feel almost attacked.

What occurred beside her in the next moment was an alien, academic language that she couldn't quite understand:

"Oh, I know! It made me fall in love with film even more!" Florence told him, "Who knew that it could be so interesting?"

The seemingly cocky man didn't answer, and complimented her instead, "Say, did anybody tell you that you look a bit like Anna Karina?"

"Really? Thanks!" the girl chirped, flattered, "That's the look I'm going for. I love Jean Luc Goddard's films, don't you?"

"Heck yes, so much better than a lot of what Hollywood churns out nowadays," he expressed, and scoffed, "Glad you're an Anna and not a Marilyn like most girls are"

Monica scorned whilst they both laughed, knowing that Freddie would wipe the look off that young man's face if he was there to hear him disparage Ms Monroe that way.

"Oh yes, the French are the best. Have you read any of François Truffaut's translated essays on Alfred Hitchcock?" Florence carried on.

"Of course!" the man hesitantly declared, "If I'm going to make art out of film one day then I have to have the mind of an artist"

"Yep, he's trying to get into her pants" Monica thought, seeing right through his lies by his tone of voice.

"What do you like analysing film for the most?" Florence asked him, "Its aesthetics, or socio-historical elements around it?"

After that last sentence Monica realised that she herself couldn't answer such questions, and now felt out of her depth. She came here, already thinking that she knew so much about making movies.

Although now these two young people who were clearly more ambitious than she was were both starting to make her think that she actually didn't know very much at all.

"But isn't that why you came here in the first place, Mo?" she thought to herself, "You remember what the acceptance letter said, don't you?"

So, for the next few minutes until the professor arrived, she stared straight ahead at the empty, white projector screen and decided to grin and bear it before she could declare it a mistake.

"Besides, it's not going to be this way for the next three years, is it?"

Assembly hall, Headfort School, Kells, Co. Meath, Republic of Ireland

"Each Friday afternoon, after lunch and up until 3pm, you are all invited to attend a vocational club of your choice that will be run by one of your teachers or myself..."

Headmaster Dermot Toole was standing at the front of the assembly hall, addressing his students sitting in the rows of gold chairs.

Amongst the sea of multi-ethnic faces were twin brother and sister Johnny and Roshni Bulsara, who were sitting a few rows diagonally apart from one another.

Next to Mr Toole stood a black chalkboard, listing just about any hobby, sport or activity from arts and crafts and map-reading, right up to sports and outdoor activities such as badminton and horse-riding.

"Here are the sign-up sheets for each after-lunch club listed on the board in which you write your name and form class," he instructed, pointing to the chalkboard and then to the fold-out table with paper and pens next to him, "But you can only choose one club per school term, so think hard about what you'd like to do best"

As he sat down on the bench with the rest of the teachers, the children all began to mutter amongst themselves excitedly about what they wanted to do. Johnny and Roshni knowingly looked at each other, their interests also engaged.

"Settle down and line up in an orderly fashion, children," Mr Toole ordered, as did a few other teachers, "You will get your turn"

As Roshni stood in line to the front table, her twin brother tapped her on the shoulder from behind.

She turned to face him, "What is it?"

"I don't like any of them," Johnny sulked, "There's no music club!"

"What about arts and crafts? You like drawing, don't you?" Roshni suggested.

"Yeah, but I'd rather play the piano or learn something else to play." he answered.

"I think I'll do the Maths and Games one." his sister proclaimed, taking a step ahead as the queue moved forward.

"Why? Maths is boring," Johnny uttered, careful not to speak too loud so that the teachers could hear him, "and all the games are probably games people played in a war bunker or something before we even had TVs."

"But I miss my Atari, and my favourite subject back home was Maths, so this has to be the next best thing." Roshni explained to him.

"Alright then, at least you found something to do..." the boy stubbornly folded his arms, still at a complete loss.

By the time Roshni reached her turn at the table and lifted a pen with the intent of writing her name on the maths and games sheet.

However, her gesture garnered the attention of a few other children standing beside her as most of them went silent.

"But she's a girl!" one of the boys nearby whispered loudly.

"Girls don't do maths or games, do they?" said another.

Roshni drew her hand back with doubt, and decided that she should maybe pick another, that way she wouldn't be a laughing stock or the odd one out.

"What else do I like doing?" Roshni thought, looking at the chalkboard list in puzzlement.

But Mr Toole, who was watching her the whole time from the other side of the table, interrupted her second thoughts, "You know Roshni, some girls and women who were very good at maths helped NASA get the first people to the moon"

"Really?" she shyly cheeped.

Mr Toole nodded, and continued, "And a lot of women also helped Alan Turing to crack codes during the Second World War and build the first computer"

Roshni's blue eyes twinkled with wonder and imagination, and in spite of her peers' curiosity she scribbled her name on the Maths and Games sheet.

"Good choice, Roshni!" Miss Singh, who also happened to be the twins' maths teacher and host of the club itself, cheered her on, "Can't wait to see you after lunch!"

However, Johnny still felt torn about what to pick, for there still didn't seem to be a club listed on the chalkboard that appealed to him.

"Maybe I should hurry up and pick Arts and Crafts" he thought, considering Roshni's advice.

Mr Toole noticed Johnny having a moment of hesitancy when he reached the table, much like his twin sister.

"Mr Bulsara," He cleared his throat, "if I recall what your mother had told me during your first visit last March then I think that you'll enjoy being a member of the Headfort Players"

Although that club flew over Johnny's radar due to its ambiguous name.

He shook his head, "But sir, football is fun but I'm not very good at it"

The children sitting around him giggled at his innocent misconception, as did some of the teachers.

"Football?!" Mr Toole suppressed his laughter, and corrected him, "My boy, the Headfort Players is a theatre group run by your music and choir teacher Mrs Joyce in tow with her husband Mr Joyce from the English and Drama department"

"Theatre? Does that mean there's singing and dancing involved too?" Johnny quizzed.

"Well, in some cases, yes," his headmaster answered, "And you'll get to be part of a production which the whole school comes together to organise and audition for, but it'll be your club in particular that's headlining it."

Johnny wasn't ready to make a spectacle of himself on stage:

"I don't have to wear a dress, do I?"

"Well, you can if you really want to," Mr Toole chuckled, as did others around him, "But I'm sure there'll be plenty of characters for you to choose from. So, will you be joining or not?"

"Dad already prances about and sings on stage... and he's dressed up as a woman before, how hard can it be?" he thought.

So Johnny made up his mind, and wrote his name down on the Headfort Players sign-up sheet.

"Good boy. Maybe one day we'll see your name in shining lights!" Mr Toole pat Johnny on the shoulder encouragingly.

A smug Johnny walked back to his seat, thinking, "If only he knew who our dad is..."

*****

Garden Lodge, around 3pm

"I've sent Wayne [Sleep] home in a taxi, Fred. It's-It's safe to come down now, if you'd like!" Peter "Phoebe" Freestone loudly informed his boss sitting in the mezzanine above the piano room, speaking loudly over the party music thumping in the speakers below.

"Thanks..." Freddie was sitting in one of his mahogany chairs and dressed in his bright red 'Moving Up Joyy' tracksuit set, stroking Tiffany on his lap with his 'bongo' bonnet made by friend and fashion designer Diana Moseley by his side, "if you're completely sure that there's no more projectile vomiting downstairs then I'll be down in a few"

"Guess I'll consider Mr Sleep blacklisted from ever coming to another one of your parties then" Phoebe peered his head through the door one more time before disappearing.

"Yes, you do that my dear man..." Freddie purred impassively.

He returned to watching his guests in the piano room down below that meticulously decorated top to bottom with fanciful and vivid flower bouquets, flooding in and out of his patio doors and into the sunny garden where fresh drinks were still being served. As expected, everybody looked like they were having a nice time. Everybody but the birthday boy himself:

"I think my social circle is going to be a lot smaller this time, don't you Tiff?" he asked her playfully, to which the ragdoll cat didn't answer.

Regardless, his social circle had already shrunk anyway. A lot of friends that were invited, old and new, had turned up. But much to his disappointment a lot hadn't, and a lot also couldn't be invited in the first place because they were unfortunately unwell or deceased, most of them from AIDS.

That was it, the A-word. And it hung over him like a dark cloud as the day went on, in spite of the sunshine and vibrant atmosphere amongst the party guests below, to the point where it became too difficult to ignore. And after the cake-cutting some guests started to party a little too hard in the afternoon which only made matters worse, and so Freddie had excused himself upstairs to be with the rest of the Garden Lodge cats who were also keeping well out of the way of commotion and chatter of the loud, tipsy party guests.

And Monica hadn't turned up yet, which made the day hurt the most. The silence without Johnny and Roshni's presence was already painful enough, for he always viewed his house as a family house. The least that he could do was let the woman he loved have the independence she deserved, but was this the price he had to pay?

As for his career, Queen had little to no motivation to do another tour for a long time, not after their Knebworth concert went terribly whenever the audience grew out of control. But there was still some hope on his own horizon, for this year's hurdles such as the miscarriage offered so much creative inspiration. And so Freddie had loads of lyricless melodies and, vice versa, melodies without lyrics sitting around that he'd have to use someday.

"Perhaps things wouldn't be that different if Monica successfully carried the baby to term and gave us a third child," he thought sadly, "Perhaps it was never meant to be at all because I certainly can't picture it now..."

The twin's calico twin kittens, Luke and Leia, were sitting wide-eyed at the foot of the mahogany stepladder and watching Freddie the whole time as his thoughts swirled.

"What happened to the days when I used to be the life and soul of the party, eh?" he told them both, "Why, I've become an old man! I'm sitting here like an old man on his front porch, watching my own damn party and complaining about the guests who are having too much fun! How peculiar!"

But eventually guests would go home, the party would end, and he would still have to come back to normality and all he'd have to look forward to was his shopping trip to Japan-

"Knock knock!" a woman's voice startled him.

He silently looked over and there she was, leaning against the entrance to the mezzanine, still dressed in her pea-green coat and clutching onto her leather shoulder bag.

"Ta da!" Monica pointed to the novelty green tartan beret on her head with tufts of fake ginger hair attached to it.

Admittedly, the sight of her in such a ridiculous hat made Freddie feel a little better. He couldn't stop himself from snickering, bringing his hand up to his teeth.

"I bought it from a souvenir shop in Dublin Airport when I was dropping Johnny and Roshni off at Headfort last week," Monica explained over the talking below, walking in, "and I thought it'd be perfect since I'm Northern Irish anyway"

"How was today?' he involuntarily asked out of politeness as she pulled a chair out to sit next to him.

Monica was tempted to tell him about the unpleasant future classmate that she met, apart from Florence, and what each module was going to cover for the term.

But because it was his birthday she decided to keep it brief not bore him:

"Some of the fresher talks weren't necessary to be honest, just about extra courses and societies and things like that," she remorsefully admitted, "If I'd known beforehand then I would've left early and come here"

She reached over to touch Freddie's hand, noticing that he was saying very little, but he didn't really reciprocate. The look on his face as he looked down at the piano room, however, was unreadable.

"Why aren't you down there at your own birthday party?" Monica asked him gently.

"Just needed a moment, you know..." he raked his finger's through Tiff's long fur coat.

She continued, "It's just that I met Peter [Straker] down there too, usually when he's here you go into party mode."

Freddie straightened up and leaned forward to get a better lookout for his friend. He didn't find him, but he saw Monica's best friend Paula had also arrived. She was talking to Phoebe, who of course was one of the only people Paula knew at this party. Noticeably, she chose to wear a black bowler on her bleached and quiffed short hair with an interesting custom decorative piece stuck into the ribbon around it:

He frowned, "Why on earth does Paula's hat have a pair of scissors on it? Is it because she's an artist?"

"Well actually, that's her cheeky little innuendo." Monica hinted.

"Because she's a lesbian?"

Monica nodded, also looking below, "I thought you of all people would see it straight away"

She heard Freddie chuckle, and so the atmosphere between them didn't seem so tense anymore.

"He's back! Just about the right time to give him his birthday present, I think"

She lifted her shoulder bag off of her arm and set it on her lap, pulling out a rectangular parcel.

"Happy birthday" she awkwardly chimed, handing it to him as he lifted Tiffany off of himself and onto the ground.

"Now why you put this in a postal package dearie, I just don't know..." he ripped the seal open and shook it gently to empty its contents on his lap, and out fell a VHS tape.

"Whenever I was editing my submission piece I had a lot of leftover Super 8 footage in the cutting room that I didn't want to waste," Monica explained, then quickly clarified, "But it's mainly for you"

"You made it for me? What is it?" Freddie pondered, looking at the tape for some form of labelling.

"You'll see," she was careful not to give too much away, then added, "Oh! By the way, I hope you don't mind but I used one of your songs in it too"

He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Don't worry about copyright or anything," Monica assured him, "I haven't published it anywhere, so you're the first to see it"

Freddie stood up, "I'll go watch it in our bedroom"

She stood up quickly, "Before you go..."

He was about to faithfully put his bongo hat back on, "Yes?"

"Happy birthday, again" Monica whispered, and closing her eyes and leaning in closer to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Freddie impulsively turned his head a little, and instead it became a kiss on the lips.

Still, at that moment there was no denying that they both felt a small, warm spark within the exchange between their mouths.

Still blushing after they broke, Monica watched him saunter out of the mezzanine, no spring in his step what-so-ever as she thought, "Oh, I do hope he likes it"

The television and VCR player was one of the only appliances that Freddie knew how to operate. With the bedroom door closed and the music thumping faintly below his feet, he slid the tape on and sat down in front of the set with both a feeling of interest and apprehension.

The screen was black until the familiar honky-tonk style piano tune of his years-old song Seaside Rendezvous came out of the television speakers, and so began the film shot on the Super 8 that he had gifted her all those years ago...

https://youtu.be/36nqGs_Dvws

"What in God's name?" Freddie watched as the video opened to two familiar little faces, and the handheld camera turned to face Monica who was sitting in the driver seat of her car and waving back at them and the camera over her shoulder.

"Why is it three times faster than usual?" he remarked about the rapid playback speed, finding it to be an unusual creative decision.

In the next few clips, the twins were walking along the promenade of what appeared to be a town by the sea and towards an Ice Cream van as Paula's Great Dane Max galloped ahead of them, their mother's Super 8 following them.

"Uh oh..." Freddie thought, for seeing Johnny and Roshni on video was already tugging at his heartstrings because he was missing them both immensely.

At the same time, his younger voice sang lyrics that contextually matched them, "Seaside... whenever you stroll along with me..."

Then they were both hyperactively spinning and running around harbour on the seafront and feeding Max the dog the remnants of their ice creams, as one does by the seaside.

So far Monica had cut and edited them perfectly in time with the music. Additionally the ragtime feel of her choice of musical accompaniment, as well as the sped-up footage, made the video seem like a silent Laurel and Hardy sketch.

The next clip showed Johnny and Roshni both running towards a tall fairground building that was sign-posted Barry's. Just as the song appropriately reached its silly 25 second long kazoo-style bridge, short-burst clips of them having fun at the fairground followed. From using the penny-fall coin machines, riding on the dodgems, carousels and sliding down the Helter Skelter, to playing prize-winning games such as coconut shy and shoot-a-duck.

As the kazoo bridge ended there was a shot which panned from the sea with the sun hanging low above it in the sky, and to Johnny and Roshni sitting on the sand and waving at the camera with a bag of chips on their laps.

"Just keep on dancing," his harmonies sang in the background, "What a damn jolly good idea!"

Unexpectedly, a large seagull swooped down and terrorized them for their food, and Freddie chortled loudly the moment they leapt up and ran away down the strand.

The last few clips consisted of them building sandcastles and paddling in the shallow water as the sun started to sink into the sea. The whole time there was visible glee on both of their faces, as was throughout the video, for Monica had managed to capture the essence of childhood.

At last, the shutter closed in on a wide shot of them running towards the sunset in the sea whilst Freddie's voice spoke aloud at the end of the song, "Give us a Kiss".

The screen went black again, and he sat and stared back in awe.

What Freddie had just watched may not have been Citizen Kane or Jaws, and it may have only lasted two and a half minutes. But it was the best birthday gift that he had received all day.

And best of all was that it was made with love...

One last thing, Queenies!

I would just like to share what  happens when a Queen fan (who also spends her free time studying maps) looks out the airplane window of a flight from Belfast to London Heathrow as it descends over the boroughs of Kensington and Chelsea...

It took everything in me not to geek-out on that plane. If you're ever getting a flight to Heathrow, keep a look out the window. You might just be able to see one or two of Freddie's houses. ;)

Stay safe now xx