Gambado Indoor Playground, Chelsea

"Mummy, can we go play now?" Robert Deacon tugged his mother's trouser leg as she sat in the booth.

"Yes, just keep an eye on your brother and Johnny and Roshni." Veronica patted his head, and Monica set her children down on the floor.

"Remember, we must stick together and not wander off, alright?" Robert kindly instructed his brother and the twins as they linked hands, and he lead the group out of the dining area

Monica watched with a giggle as the 7 year old fair haired boy she babysat all those years ago in Cornwall disappeared with her children under his watch, part of the caring nature he inherited from his dad John.

She sipped from her paper cup of Pepsi, "Where does time go?"

"Oh, I know. I can't believe yours and my Michael will be going to school next September." Veronica returned to spooning puréed baby food into baby Laura Deacon's mouth.

"I need to start looking for a job so that I have something to do when they're gone... I don't have any pacifiers to coax out of baby's mouths anymore" she murmured sadly.

"Speaking of which, how did you get Johnny to stop getting attached to his pacifier all of a sudden?" Veronica asked, wiping off the mess on Lauras cheeks . "John and I have been trying to figure out for weeks now. We don't want Laura getting attached when she's too old."

"I was tempted to dip it in castor oil but at first I only let him have it at bed and nap time," Monica folded her paper napkin. "When he was awake I tried to soothe him in other ways. He eased off of it eventually."

"It's just... I'm visiting Poland again in a month to see my parents and I want to get rid of it before then so that John won't have to."

"Of course..." Monica trailed off as she looked out the window, watching hers and the Deacon boys clamber across the multi coloured leather-clad playscape inside the netted wall, utter joy and glee on their faces.

The last four years of her life were spent raising two infants, and now she had nothing in her path. Veronica had three babies in the space of seven years but she still had qualifications that left her with open doors.

"Of course she does," Monica reminded herself. "Her and John met in college, what do you expect?!"

She still loved Freddie, and where she lived. And he assured her early on that he'd help her find plenty of opportunities in London. The problem was just finding them in such a large city.

"It's so nice to get away from the men, isn't it?" Veronica interrupted her thoughts, stirring her coffee.

"Sorry?" Monica spluttered, for the cheery noise of the children's birthday party taking place in a far table in the background drowned her voice out.

"I said, it's nice to get away from the men!" She repeated, this time a little more amplified.

"Oh yes... mind you, Freddie would shudder at the sight of this place." Monica looked around.

She knew he would've had a sensory meltdown within being only thirty seconds through the door. There were squealing children (as if Johnny and Roshni weren't bad enough) running around around the plastic tables and nastily kitschy amusements that weren't the sort of kitsch he liked, and bubblegum pop was blaring from the speakers scattered around every corner.

"Ahhh The Osmonds... John hates them, and Roger!" Veronica giggled as Crazy Horses began to play.

"On the topic of music, I wonder how those two are doing in the studio," Monica took another gulp of Pepsi. "Freddie tells me that he and your John have a song under their belt."

"Oh yes, something along the lines of Cool Cat, I believe?"

Before Monica could respond, the two women saw a flash in the corner of their eye.

At first they thought it was lightening, until a split second later Robert was anxiously running towards them for help.

Veronica swiftly grabbed Laura out of her high chair, and when they emerged from the dining area Monica watched as the boy pointed to the other three tots naïvely standing behind the net in the ball pool, looking across at an older man with a camera pointing his long lens towards them-

"Oh no...if Freddie was here he'd beat that paparazzo to a pulp" Monica grabbed her bag from her chair and frantically dug cash out of her pocket, slipping it under a salt shaker and knocking it over in the process as Veronica rushed out of the cafe with Laura in her arms.

It should've been obvious. The two young mothers felt as if they were being watched all morning by the man in his dated tennis shirt and silver, greasy hair in a ponytail.

She didn't know what was in her at that moment that fuelled her to the children's defence, but she weaved her way through the soft rainbow labyrinth as fast as she could.

"Stay the hell away from our children and find a better job!" She marched into the ball pool, storming towards the photographer as Veronica shielded the small children from his lens.

"Too late, love," he put a canister in his camera bag, flashing a yellow grin. "I got what I wanted."

"Oh fuck..." she thought with dread, watching as he waded through the mass of multicoloured balls and out. "Freddie is going to go crazy"

"Come on, just take the twins and we'll go back and get the rest of our things" Veronica murmured in her ear, before calling a teenage worker sweeping the floor a few yards away outside of the net to intervene.

Onlookers stared, and within seconds a pair of playground workers appeared to grab the paparazzo by the elbows and tug him towards the front door.

Monica felt her eyes go blurry as the workers murmured something about removing him from the premises, then she proceeded to pick her two children up. None of them protested, they were still confused as to why mum wasn't happy.

"The man said something about taking our picture, mum" Robert replied to Veronica's question, holding little Michael by the hand.

"And did he?" She asked.

He nodded, and already Monica could see the scenario playing in her head; the sickly old mad patronisingly asking them to hold still and smile. Luckily Robert was old enough out of the small children to have watched pubic safety videos regarding 'stranger danger' in school.

It brought her back to those nights out in the town when she and Freddie would be hounded the moment they emerged from a limousine or taxi, and she'd see her reappear in gossip pages the next day, arms crossed and head lowered to protect herself from the impact of the bright lights disorientating her path to and from the venue. She struggled to deal with it the way he did.

"Mummy! It's the tiger!!" The twins squealed, startling her as they made grabby hands towards the end of the dining area where a worker in a tiger costume was tending to the party singing Happy Birthday in full chorus.

"We're going," Monica slung her bag on her shoulder. "I need to telephone daddy about that horrible man taking your photograph!"

"But what about the bumper cars?!" Robert complained to his mum.

"Well, we'll go to the fairground in the summer and you can go on them then," Veronica put Laura in her pram. "Monica, we should go up to the cashier and pay-"

"Not to worry, since you paid admittance I'll get the food... I just want to get out of here" she nodded towards the cash sitting underneath the saucer.

"Right, lets look for a phone box" Veronica grabbed Michael by the hand.

At the studio...

"It's been a whole month, and she's still different around me" Freddie murmured sadly as he dropped his cigarette butt into the ashtray, slouched in front of the mixing desk as Brian and Roger warmed up their instruments of the other side of the glass.

"In what way?" John asked gently, hands sitting crossed on his lap.

"Roshni's cautious when we're in the same room. She's too afraid to touch anything and just wavers around the place," he leaned his hand against his head, staring into space. "She even had a crying fit one morning when she accidentally smashed the porcelain egg cup she was using on the kitchen floor... took Monica all morning to calm her down."

"...You did apologise to her, didn't you?" John hesitantly asked.

The man nodded, "But still, the moment I appear I'll see her stick her thumb in her mouth and not make eye contact with me... she won't go to me anymore when she wants something; she'll go to Monica or Phoebe."

"Give it more time." John patted his shoulder, then went to get up.

"It'll be too late. When Hot Space comes out we'll be going press releases and the tour," his voice stopped him, and John could tell there was a lump in his throat by the sorrow in it. "and she'll be set apart by the time I come home to them. My god, they'll be in school! I don't want to be the cold, distant father that I grew up with-"

"Freddie? Phone for you. John, you might want to come too." Phoebe interrupted, peeping through the door.

"Back to business," he hauled himself up. "Get yourself set up, boys. I'll be in in a jiffy" he waved the band off and headed to reception.

"It's Monica" Phoebe murmured, John in tow.

"Oh thank fuck," he took the studio receiver off the receptionist. "Hello."

"Oh my god, Freddie I'm so sorry!" she sounded panicked on the other end.

He leaned against the front desk and tensed, "Darling? What's-"

"We saw the flash of a camera and before we knew it he'd gotten the photo of them in the ball pool!" She gushed.

"Who-What photo? Monica, slow down and tell me what happened!" He ordered softly, face twisting into concern.

"Our children! John's, Veronica's, mine, yours," her voice began to crack. "I leave them out of my sight for one second and still, they're hunted down by the press like young prey!"

He ran his hand across his jawline, exhaling, "Right, so you're saying the paparazzi got a picture of them?"

"Yes, it's just one photographer," Her sobs crackled through the speaker. "But I swore that it wouldn't happen under my watch-"

"Baby, take a breath... you know they've probably gotten pictures of them countless times before on the street."

"...I just don't want you getting angry when they're splashed across the papers tomorrow morning." She said.

"Darling it's fine. Jim Beach will get a lawyer on the bastard-"

"But I wasn't with them! Their identity is going to be released to the public, and they're starting school in September! The teachers, the parents, everyone will know who they are!"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Look, if John says it's a good school, then they'll be fine."

"You certain?"

Freddie didn't know the answer, and he had know gut feeling to follow.

"I'm certain. It's Kensington, I'm certain that there is a kid or two in that school born to a millionaire. They won't care who their dad is."

"Well, I guess we will have to find out when the time comes." She sighed.

"You better now? Only John and I need to get back." He looked back anxiously at he others tapping their feet impatiently.

"Of course, Veronica wants him now anyway... she's given me a recipe for paella. Would that sound okay for dinner?"

"Anything that you put on the table is simply divine," he kissed the mic in he receiver, unknowingly mending her confidence and morale on the other end. "See you all tonight."

"I love you" she breathed.

He said it back, only to hear a familiar polish accent "John?"

"No, Veronica. John is here," he slammed the receiver into Deaky's hand and stomped back to the mixing desk. "Phoebe, remind Mary to contact the solicitors tomorrow."

His assistant nodded and dug out his notebook, and Freddie lowered back onto the swivel chair.

"Is this groovy enough for you?" Roger reluctantly dabbled his drumsticks on the synthesised high hat.

"Yeah, Maybe we will throw an extra tom in underneath it..." Freddie's brows furrowed as he listened intently, then nodded.

Roger gave a thumbs up, and Brian turned to him as he fixed the trap of his red special, "what were the riff chords again? The bloody tune is so repetitive."

Freddie simply rolled his eyes at such cooperation. The band's reluctance to dabble into funk meant that he couldn't wait to get home.

But he couldn't wait to get out of the house to do what he loved either.

(Shoutout to rockandrollallnight for title ideas! Give her work a read x )