This chapter contains racial themes that in no way reflect the author's beliefs

Nighttime, Logan place

Monica switched her car engine off with a huff once she was suitably parked, and slumped into her driver seat, having had what seemed like the worst day at work.

"And to think that I have to do it all again in the morning" she stared ahead, past the windscreen as the indoor lights above her head faded, leaving her in the cold darkness of her Austin Maestro as she wanted nothing else other than to forget.

She turned her key forward to turn the electrics on and see what time it was on the car monitor.

"20:30pm," she muttered, then slipped her keys back out, "They should both be in bed by now, all being well" 

And fortunately for Monica, all was well... by Freddie's standards, of course.

She got inside out of the cold and into the warmth of Garden Lodge's central heating to find Freddie and Johnny and Roshni, all in their pyjamas and nestled close together under the cashmere blanket on the Louis XVI sette in the middle of the warmly lit piano room.

"How peculiar," She stood at the doorway, mooning at the tender sight, "They never want to settle down and watch anything with him"

Their sleepy eyes were glued the television that appeared to be playing The Wizard of Oz, so mesmerised by Judy Garland singing Over the Rainbow that they didn't hear her step into the room.

"If happy little bluebirds fly... beyond the rainbow," Dortothy Gale lamented as she stared at the sun rays breaking through the clouds, "Why, oh why can't I..."

She finally made herself present when the song was over, softly clearing her throat to catch their attention before speaking, "My my, I remember you singing that to them when you came home with the moustache for the first time!"

Their heads darted in her direction. Johnny and Roshni got up off the sofa and ran to her, their eyes lit up with glee,"MUMMY!" 

"Well, you two seem happy to see me" Monica giggled as she bent down and hugged them back, the smiles on their little faces making her troubles temporarily melt away at that moment.

She noticed that her daughter's grip on her was a little tighter than usual as she tried to pull away and stand back up, but before she could even ask if Roshni was alright, a hyperactive Johnny excitedly gushed, "Daddy says we're not going to school anymore!!"

"No more school? Why?!" Baffled, Monica lifted her head from him to look at Freddie for an explanation.

But the man bugged his eyes and stared back as he sat under a throw on the sofa by the lamp light, put on the spot.

"Oh god, I'm fucked" he felt his insides churning as Monica's angelic features twisted into a deadly scowl, her steely blue eyes narrowing.

Phoebe emerged from the kitchen doorway, "Alright, who wants some microwaved Nesquick and marshmallows?"

Johnny and Roshni simultaneously cheered as they ran to him, careful to dodge any of daddy's antiques displayed across the large space, "I do! I do!!"

"What's all this?!" Monica pointed to the half-empty tubs of ice cream amongst the movie casette boxes scattered across the coffee table once they were left alone, "They're already pumped full of sugar!"

"Never mind that, darling," Fumbling, Freddie shuffled out from underneath the throw and went to the television set, "I need to speak to you about this school thing that Johnny just said"

"Please!" She felt herself sit down on the nearest armchair.

"Alright, well, please don't get mad" He pleaded, then bent down to the cassette recorder, "How do I stop this bloody thing?"

"Do you see the small white square?" she rubbed circles into her temples.

"Ah, yes" he pressed the button, and the on-screen action came to a halt.

"You don't have some crazy plan to move us all out of the country that you haven't been telling me about, do you?" she folded her arms, watching him awkwardly waddle back to the sette with the blanket around him,  "Is that why our son just said that? Because that'll make me mad"

"God, no!" He scoffed, "Why would you think that?!"

"Well, considering the fact that you're doing a lot of solo stuff at the moment," She fixed her coat over her knees, "and you know how the future of Queen is looking."

"I don't now where you get such ideas, but anyway," He returned to his cross-legged position on the sette, "...the way I handled the situation might make you mad"

"Go on then, tell me the damage" she huffed and threw her head back.

And for the next five minutes, he did. He explained everything that happened. How he was called by Phoebe out of the studio because of Johnny had pulled a girl's hair over Roshni's hair clip, how the story in the office turned into a he said-she said situation, how Johnny had gotten suspended for the day and they were about to leave when they found Roshni locked in the coal shed. The bit where he screamed at the head teachers in the school playground was the cherry on top. Monica was quiet the whole time, staring at the ceiling as she tried to absorb what he told her.

"Why is it that you turn every situation into a film scene?" she gathered whatever thoughts that she could at that moment.

"I was angry! You would be too!" he argued.

"He's got a point... after all, he is Freddie" She dismissed him.

Trying to diminish the pessimistic atmosphere, she suggested, "Well, at least what Johnny said about the headmaster this morning makes sense now... Poor Roshni though. Did she get her clip back at least?"

"Mmhm," Freddie awkwardly fiddled with the throw around him, "The poor darling will be having nightmares for weeks now though"

"Oh god, now we need to find them another school... it's a good thing I brought it up around christmas but I hoped it wouldn't come to this" she felt herself getting stressed at such complicated thoughts.

Needless to say, she had plenty of questions swimming in her head:

"Were you alone when you screamed at Mr Armstrong and Mrs Greenwood, or was there an audience?"

Freddie nodded, "The children were watching out the classroom window"

"Fred?! Do you want the media bombarding us with questions about their schooling or not?!"

"Screw it if their parents talk to the press. They don't know the truth of the matter" he stretched to the coffee table and picked up his bowl of half-melted ice cream.

"Neither do I! I wasn't there!" She stood up, picking Johnny and Roshni's old polyester uniforms seemingly disgarded on the carpet by her feet.

"What are you doing with those?" He curiously watched as she picked up her sewing jar filled with her needles and spools and spare buttons up off the mantle piece and out of reach of any cats or children.

"Well, since these are no use to us anymore I'll just rip their names off and hand them into a second hand shop or something" she sat back down in the armchair with the jumpers draped across her lap.

"I see..." Freddie watched her she lifted the cap off the seam ripper and started getting to work, holding the garment up to the light coming from the cherub lamp next to her.

"...Still won't change what happened today, but it's still a step forward" she muttered, eyes narrowing and face slightly scrunched up in concentration.

"Monica, it's been dealt with!" He excused, voice raising a little in agitation.

"It hasn't been dealt with! We need to find them a school now" she nimbly undid each tiny stitch on the neckline, "I am guessing that the baby thing will have to be held back until we find them one. Just like the wedding."

Freddie stared at the creamy vanilla goo slipping out of the silver spoon in his hand as he felt the piercing guilt stabbing at his heart.

Monica she briefly lowered the garment in her hands when she realised that there was a long pause, and she could see that the look on his face was tense, his strong brows knitted together, but other than that unreadable.

"I've said too much, havent I?" she resumed to ripping their name tags off one stitch at a time, "Please forgive me, but I've had a long day too and now I find myself carrying out something too fiddly for the end of the day... I hope you can understand"

He lowly answered her, "But of course."

His face fell as he hesitantly set his bowl down onto the coffee table. 

Monica sat waiting for an explanation, careful not to jab her fingers with the pointed edge, "I'm all ears"

He breathed in, then began, "In the office today, Johnny said that he thinks that the baby is just to replace him because he's badly behaved."

"He said that?" she heard herself whisper, painfully envisioning her son saying such a hurtful thing.

His voice wavered as he continued, choking up, "Roshni didn't call out for me when she was locked behind the shed door... She only called out for mummy and Phoebe at first, not me... my god, that was a kick in the teeth when I thought about it later on. Maybe I'm not there enough for them. Maybe I'm not showing them that I truly love them... maybe I am like my father after all."

Sensing that the waterworks were about to go off, Monica set the jumpers on the arm rest, and put the cap back on the seam ripper before putting it back into the jar and closing the lid. She stood up and tiptoed to the edge of the seat, reaching over to put her hand on his knee under the blanket reassuringly.

Freddie barely glanced over, the flames in the fire place gently illuminating his brooding profile as his arms kept tucked to himself underneath the blanket, his hands hiding under the sleeves of his yellow sweatshirt, his black, unwashed hair askew and tears welling in his brown eyes. She'd very rarely seen him look so vulnerable, and such a far cry away from the man that the world saw him as on stage, and difficult to see through.

She started rubbing her hand up and down his thigh, then pulled away to tenatively wipe off the traces of ice cream present on his moustache first, then dry the corners of his eyes.

"Don't blame yourself for the price of fame" she softly pleaded, then leaned in and kissed his stubbly cheek.

"You must've been a fool to obey me that morning" he grumbled.

"What morning?" she chuffed.

"The morning after the night we met" he answered, tenderly slipping his warm hand into hers on his thigh.

"Don't be ridiculous." she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

He scoffed playfully, "I bedded an innocent young girl"

She slipped onto his lap, draping her arms around his neck, "And changed the course of her life forever"

"In a good way, I hope" he cradled her briefly, a smirk playing on his mouth.

"Yes" she stretched her head up slightly, closing her eyes as their lips met.

As he kissed her back, she felt him gathering the blanket around her.

She pulled away, "It doesn't take you much to put you in a good mood again, does it?"

He grinned back, laying her down on the space next to him, "Let's go upstairs before they come back in-"

"Freddie, no! I've got things to sort out" her hand stopped his pout as he leaned in.

"But we haven't made love since the weekend" He watched her gather her things.

"Well, I've got work to look over," she answered away from him, reluctantly putting her bag back on her shoulder, "Things were a little different today"

"What kind of different?" He crossed his legs to conceal his developing erection.

"A bad different" she sighed, feeling guilty as she walked away from the sette.

She was about to head into the kitchen when he spoke again, "Monica?"

He heard her footsteps come to a halt.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened at work then?" he asked.

"I'll tell you in the morning... I would rather sleep on it" She answered.

"Can you at least give me a hint?" Freddie whined, eagre to know.

It was then that she saw this as an opportunity to rant.

"Alright, seeing as you love a good old bitching now and again," She impatiently put her hand on her hip as he rolled his eyes, "Remember when you were recording with Michael in LA and he brought in his pet Llama?"

"Oh god, you didn't have to work with a bloody llama, did you?" Freddie lifted his spoon, waiting to be entertained, "Did it spit and smell horrendous?"

"Well, sort of actually," Monica sighed, taking her blue pashmina off from around her neck and loosely folding it in her hands, "But imagine if this llama could spit out unnecessary remarks and had an overbearing stench of Opium by Yves Saint Laurent" 

"That perfume came out the year that we met, didn't it?" He murmured.

"You're the department store enthusiast out of the both of us, Freddie. You'd know that sort of thing, not me" she leaned against the door post, looking into the coldly-lit kitchen.

She watched as Phoebe held out an open bag of marshmallows to her two children who were sitting up at the breakfast bar now.

"Not too much, now. Mummy needs that for desserts..." he warned Johnny as he squirted cream into his mug.

The boy giggled, and then aimed it at his mouth.

"No no!" Phoebe snatched the can out of his hand in time, but as he went to the fridge he didn't see Roshni pouring the whole contents of the jar of sprinkles into hers.

The twins laughed as the poor man rushed back and forth across the kitchen floor in a panic, torn between them.

Before she could even intervene, Freddie confessed something heart-warming, "...I was going to consider buying you Opium for our first christmas together actually, but now I'm glad that you smell like my irish flower and not some wretched llama"

Butterflies fluttering in her stomach once again, Monica felt her bag drop to the floor as he stared back, his dark eyes glinting with adoration under the lamp light.

"I-I can't remember when you last called me that" she looked away and picked her belongings back up.

"Clearly it's been far too long" he chuckled as he watched her fumbling at her feet, her delicate face blushing irresistibly.

Before Freddie could get up to help her, Johnny and Roshni ran in, Phoebe in tow with a tray of mugs. Luckily for him, he was too comfortable and cosy to get out from under the blanket.

"Oof! Help, I'm being ambushed Phoebe!!" He joked as his two children burrowed back underneath and into his side.

"Not to worry, a bedtime drink will help them settle down" His assistant bent down and set the tray on the coffee table before collecting empty tubs of ice cream.

"I hope," Freddie kissed them both on the crown of their head, then called over to Monica who was still crouched at the floor, "Will you be joining us when you're done, darling?"

Johnny and Roshni simultaneously cheered, "Yeah, mummy! Watch The Wizard of Oz with us!"

"I made you a cup, it's sitting in the microwave" Phoebe added.

"Thank you Phoebe, I'll be right there after I organise these papers," she stood back up flustered, "Go ahead and press play without me"

"Suit yourself," she heard Freddie grumble, then lower his voice, "We're at the bit when that dreadful cow on the bicycle takes the dog"

"Another reason to leave the room then" she heard herself chuckle as she entered the kitchen.

She gravitated to the microwave, and dialed in the amount of time that she believed it would take to reorganise the papers in her bag. Once the machine started whirring and set to work on reheating her cocoa, the intercom sounded from the wall.

"I've got it!" She heard Phoebe call from the hallway.

"Probably another one of Freddie's biddings from Sotheby's" she murmured in concentration, spreading the pages of the shot lists and schedules and whatnot out on the table, and it wasn't long until she started getting flashbacks of the past 12 hours in the studio set...

Earlier that day, an expensive neighborhood somewhere in London...

"Made it!!" Monica burst in through the grand double doors of the filming location that she was directed to as she pushed herself out of her camel coat, running up to her manager who was standing in the corner of the slightly clustered space, next to a back light, "Sorry I'm late, my son didn't want to go to school"

"It's okay, we have yet to begin" Theo lifted his head.

"Great! Whose got the scripts?" she pushed her dark hair back from her face.

"We won't have scripts, we have these" Theo handed her a document from the pile in his hand.

Monica skimmed through it, still catching her breath, "These are shot lists! Why is it unscripted? How am I supposed to work with these? I'm not a cinematographer!"

"They've brought their own cinematographer too," Theo rolled his eyes, "A member of the marketing team is here to oversee the production... I don't understand why they need my help if they want to do everything their own way"

As he droned on, Monica looked closer at the description of each shot and how the subject's costume always seemed to be something that bore a lot of skin, and how their action was described with choice words such as 'sultry stare into the camera' or 'close-up detail of lace garter'. Until then she couldn't really understand the purpose for the four poster bed in the middle of the white-washed, lavishly decorated room filled with crew where the models were sitting, scantily-clad in lingerie of all kinds from racy to basic, the hair and makeup surrounding them as they were touched up and getting camera-ready.

"This is a lingerie company," she turned pale, "Theo, you told me that they only do clothes!"

"They do! This is just for their underwear section!" He shrugged.

"Did you even meet these people beforehand?" she didn't recognise half of the crew.

"Nope." He slammed the documents onto a plastic deck chair behind him.

Monica felt the stress sink in just as Steven, a sound recorder that she had fortunately grown accustomed to working with in the past had rushed over, "Theo, these people are useless! They only care about the models and their bloody lighting!"

"Well, it said in the contract that they were happy for me to bring my team" he shrugged, at a loss.

Steven pointed across the room to a black teenage boy steadily adjusting the boom mic pole, "See Reuben in the green jacket? That young fella is the son of my friend from college. I promised I'd give him some work experience. He's interested in sound design."

"I know, Steve, you told me on the phone that you wanted to bring Reuben along and I said it was fine!" Theo assured him apolagetically.

"Yeah, but now he can't do anything! How are we going to do this?!" the man hissed in agitation.

"Leave it to Denise" a woman's voice interrupted as a sound of high heels against the varnished floor boards entered the room.

Monica turned to an attractive woman who couldn't have been much older than herself with voluminously ashy blonde hair framing a grimacing face caked with powder, heavy blue liner wrapped around her glaring green eyes, and wearing a sharp black fitted suit with nothing else underneath the top jacket. A sharp aroma in the air was coming from her direction, and it smelt as bitter as the attitude of its wearer.

"Who's Denise?" She heard herself ask.

"I am Denise," the bombshell put her hands on her hips, then turned to Theo, "Who is your assistant?"

Monica felt her stomach drop as her boss pointed to her and answered the pushy Denise's question, "Uh, here she is"

"I will take those" Denise suddenly snatched the shot list copy out of her hand, and then walked towards the setup in the middle of the room.

"Well," The soft-spoken Theo exhaled, "Finally I can breathe"

Monica looked to him for intervention as she stood there, mouth agape, "T-Theo, that's not the member of the marketing team, is it?"

"I'm afraid so" he answered flatly.

"But can you believe we have to work with this?"

"As a matter of fact I can," he folded his arms and watched Denise conversing individually with each of the models, "I've heard a few urban myths down the years from other advertising insiders"

"Urban myths?" Monica repeated quietly out of curiosity.

He nodded, "Mmhm... about how she got to the top"

"What way? Did she work for higher company? Was she hard to deal with or something?" Monica watched.

"Uh, no. She was already acquainted with the marketing director so..." he looked right and left before he leaned in and whispered, "They say that she climbed up the career ladder on her knees"

"Eugh!" She heard herself murmur, then eyed the large yellow rock on her left hand, "But she's married!"

"That's the industry nowadays, sweetheart," Theo shrugged as he sighed, "Surely Freddie tells you tales about the music industry as well?"

"Well, he's certainly worked with more naked bodies on Bicycle Race than I ever have," she shuddered, "...I've never worked with this much bare flesh before, this is just too awkward"

Unfortunately for her, she didn't know that Denise was heading back her way and could hear everything.

"Alright, someone get the models in dressing gowns since some people are difficult to please!" The woman loudly ordered.

Monica felt all eyes in the room on her as she grit her teeth thinking about the hypocrisy and unreasonableness of this lady.

"With all due respect, Denise..." she began, "I, like a lot of people, am not used to working with a lot of skin showing"

"Surely you've been in a locker room before" Denise retorted snidely.

"W-Well, yes!" Monica stammered as she felt the lining of her stomach burning, "But not since school-"

Denise coolly cut across her, "And what about a beach? Surely you've been next to a person wearing a swimsuit before? Because we will be shooting those in pool in the underground basement as well"

Theo leaned over and whispered, "Don't stoop to her level, it'll be simpler if you-"

But she ignored him,"Of course I have! I was recently in Rio with my partner and two children actually"

"A partner and two children? Wow, what an accomplishment," Denise sarcastically uttered, "That explains why you're incapable of carrying out a simple role then"

Monica was speechless as her confidence took the hit, too dumbfounded to contiue the argument as her throat started to tighten horribly.

She fact that she'd never made it to university, nor did she pass entry the second time she tried, was always at the back of her mind, so of course she greatly valued her family and her job. And now this woman had the audacity to speak of her insecurites with such disregard.

Theo came to her defence, "Now, Denise, Monica has been a reliable employee of mine for a few years now-"

But the woman didn't listen, loudly snapping her fingers as the bangles on her wrist clanked together, pointing to the Steven's teenage apprentice as he helped change the sound mixer's batteries.

"You, the boy in the green jacket!" she barked, turning the whole room silent.

Reuben stepped away from Steve, "Uh, yes?"

"What's your job?" Denise crossed her arms.

The nervous boy quivered, "N-N...Nothing really. I'm just starting out-"

"Now your job is to get me coffee from the staff room below, go!" She pointed to the fire exit with one of her blood red talons, the plastic bangles on her wrist clanking loudly against eachother.

Monica watched the boy's face turn from puzzled to shocked as he stared back at the woman. An audible gasp sounded throughout the room from almost everybody, but nobody came to Reuben's defense. Even his mentor Steven's mouth was dropped open like a goldfish.

"But I'm here for work experience" he tried to protest.

"Well, now you know what work experience entails, so go!" Denise ordered.

Monica watched as the boy helplessly rushed off the set, feeling nothing but utter disgust.

"But he's here for work experience with me," Steven argued calmly with Denise, "He wants to do sound and I thought that it'd be good to show him the basics"

"You can go home then, we don't need sound until we get to the cutting room" the blonde gestured to the double doors.

"Not even on standby?" Theo spoke up.

Denise melodramatically rolled her eyes and violently shook her head towards him, "Whatever 'standby' means, I don't care. Now, chop chop!"

Steven paused for a moment in disbelief, then shook his head as he stormed past her. She didnt seem to notice, for once again she was talking to the models and the makeup artists and wardrobe assistants huddled around the bed. As for Theo, he had given up trying to stand up for his team at this point, for Denise had already established herself as difficult.

When he was close enough to them both, Steven grumbled, "I'm going to put away my gear... could one of you get Reuben and tell him we're leaving?"

Monica willingly jumped to the opportunity, "I'll do it!"

"Lucky you," Theo just breathed sharply into his nostrils before taking his thick-framed glasses off and polishing them with the sleeve of his black roll neck jumper before he bent down behind him and picked up the pile of shot lists, "Find somewhere to put them, would you? I don't think we'll be needing them"

Thankful to have an excuse to get out of there, she took them in her arms, "Alright, is that everything?"

"We'll see what madame here has to say"  he wagged a finger in Denise's direction.

Her mouth curled as she held back a guffaw before turning around, stomping out of the room in relief.

She didnt know where the kitchen in the building was, but she knew that it'd most likely be downstairs, and that Reuben would be there already.

"Goodness, this isn't much different to Garden Lodge" she thought as her free hand traced down the mahogany stairwell, "God, I wish I could just go home too... if I left now then I might catch Freddie before he leaves for the studio"

But before she could even begin to form an escape plan, she heard muffled noises coming from an open door across the cranberry-coloured rug.

"Are you okay in there?" she gently called out, assuming it was the kitchen.

The sounds stopped for several seconds or so, then started up again.

"Seems like I'll just have to use my ears" The closer she got, the more it sounded like snivelling.

Monica cautiously stepped in, only to find Reuben sitting on the granite flooring against an oak cupboard door with his head in his hands.

Her motherly instinct set in as she tip-toed towards the sobbing boy, "Is everything alright?"

Reuben lifted his head, revealing conflicted red eyes, and from that moment onwards Monica felt nothing more but contempt towards Denise. Yes, the woman was domineering, not unlike that of difficult companies that she and Theo's team had to accomodate in the past, but to the point that this was unfair. After all, she felt insulted that the same woman ridiculed her for being a young mother, and was now being discriminatory, for Reuben appeared to be the only black person on the set.

She bent down to him, digging a tissue out of her pocket, "Here... I'm sorry that you were put through all of that. Especially on your first day"

"T-Thank you," Reuben rubbed his eyes dry with it, then comfortably spoke, "I don't know if I want to work in Sound any more... mum and dad will get annoyed at me because their friend took time out to get work experience for me"

"Hey... Not everyone in the industry is like that woman!" she put a hand on his shoulder, "Anyway, they have no reason to be mad at you... what she did was out of order"

Reuben stared at the tissue crumpled in his hand as he sniffed, then quivered, "Why us?"

"I don't know," she spoke softly, and cautiously chose her words, "I can't imagine what it's like to be another colour in Britain, but being irish I know what it feels like to be demeaned in the work-"

She halted when Steven marched in interrupting, heavy loads of sound equipment in his arms, "come along, Reuben. I'll drive you to The Serpentine and we'll practise recording the ducks or something"

The boy snivelled as he stood up, "But what about that woman's coffee?"

"To hell with her coffee! Someone else will get it for her," Steven assured him, "You ready to go?"

Reuben sullenly nodded, and Monica watched as he followed his mentor's lead with his head down. 

Steven stopped a the door and mouthed Monica a' thank you' before disappearing around the corner. She couldn't blame them for wanting to get out of there, but it was then that she felt the need to do something to stop them going out the door, feeling as if his day had been ruined and that his ambitions had been shattered.

"Wait!" She called, slipping her hand into her shoulder bag.

Steven and Reuben stopped and turned around, about to head out the front door open as crew passed in and out with more lighting rigs.

Monica started rummaging through her bag. Both watched as she took out her small address book and a pen, ripping a page out of it and scribbling something down.

"What are you writing?" Steven asked expectantly.

Monica ignored him, standing back up and handing it to Reuben, "Try this number, this person can give you a few more leads." 

"Leads? What for?" Steven asked again as his apprentice read the paper.

"More work experience" she answered.

"...P-Peter Hince?" Reuben lifted his head from the paper, "Is that right?"

She nodded, "If he asks who you are, just tell him that Monica Brannigan told you to get in touch and that you're interested in sound."

Reuben didn't ask her who her fiancé was, just simply wiped his eyes as he looked back in gratitude, "Monica, is that right?" 

She nodded, "It may not be able to help so much as he's a busy guy, but I'm sure he can give you something to follow up"

"Who is Peter Hince? Would I know him?" Steven asked out of curiosity.

"I doubt it, he works in stage and event management rather than advertising," she explained cautiously, "He's been my hus-sorry, my fiance's roadie for ten years or so."

"A roadie?" Reuben's wet eyes lit up.

She nodded, "Whether or not music is within your field of interest-"

"It is! He just wants to know the basics of the sound tech, thank you!" Steven reached over and shook her hand.

"Not a problem!" She felt herself shaking his hand back right before they both slipped out.

"Oh! Thank you again, honestly!" Reuben stopped at the front door as he folded the note into his pocket.

By now, his frown had turned into a big white smile that left Monica feeling a little better than she did before she walked in.

All that was left to do now was to get through the next 10 hours or so, and she knew that it'd be abysmal.

Back to the present...

The microwave beeped, her cup of chocolate Nesquick ready and waiting to be enjoyed.

She opened the little door, sighing in satisfaction as she wrapped her two hands around the comforting hot cup. Her right hand flinched a little as she lifted it out, for the scar tissue dashed across her palm was still a little tender.

She looked in her reflection of the window above the sink as she brought the cup to her lips. She looked haggard at the end of the day, and certainly was no Denise. But in fact, she was thankful that she wasn't 'a wretched llama'; if anything that woman only proved that appearance isn't everything, physically or personally. And hearing those two words spoken in Freddie's velvety British voice was a delightful consilation as she felt the hot cocoa melting down her throat.

But her moment of bliss was interrupted when Phoebe urgently flurried into the doorway.

"What is it? A bunch of journalists?" she set her cup down.

"No, not that severe," he said, gesturing to the front door, "But I think you better deal with it and not Fred."

"Oh god, what could it possibly be?" she wiped the cream moustache off her upper lip as she followed him out.

With a torch to light the icy path to the front gate, Phoebe led her to the green door where she was met with a familiar face that she was least expecting to turn up. 

"Good evening. I have't interrupted anything, have I?" A middle aged woman with peroxide blonde hair in a long navy blue coat to shield herself from the chilly air politely asked, holding a carboard box filled with exercise books and rolled-up drawings and paintings and what not as she stood under the street lamplight.

"Mrs Greenwood" Monica spoke, feeling her face turn pale.

The two women stood across from eachother, trying to find the words to say as they stared blankly at one another.

"Who is it, Phoebe?" Freddie called faintly from indoors, but luckily the curtains in the piano room were drawn so he couldn't see who it was.

"I'll leave you to it" Phoebe handed her the torch and turned around.

Once he'd fully abandoned her and gotten inside, she began, "Their father told me about what happened today... and I'm ashamed of his behaviour -"

"Oh, no no! It's nothing to do with that, dear," Mrs Greenwood forced a reassuring smile, thrusting the cardboard box towards her, "I just thought that I'd return your childrens' materials personally from their classroom"

"Oh... well, you didn't have to go out of your way after what he did" Monica put the torch in her coat pocket and gingerly took it. 

"What's done is done, Miss Brannigan... that's what you go by, isn't it?" Mrs Greenwood asked.

She nodded, huffing at the weight in her arms, "You didn't need to do this, thank you!"

"It's nothing, honestly," the woman bent down and picked up the familiar little pink coat and backpack up by her feet, "Roshni's things were left in her classroom. Their teacher wanted to make sure that I got them to you as well"

"You've considered everything!" Monica was chuffed as she lowered the box a little for the lady to put them in.

Mrs Greenwood rubbed her hands together to keep warm, "It'll save you the inconvenience of having to drop by. Just so you know, those three girls have been suspended from school for the rest of the week"

"Well, Freddie will be appeased, to say the least" she thought with her arms full of Johnny and Roshni's things, watching as the woman stepped towards her car parked at the kerb, debating whether or not to invite her for a warm cup of tea or coffee.

But Mrs Greenwood stopped at the door to the driver's seat and spoke with a slightly quivering voice, "Your children were a joy to teach. I must say, looking through three years worth of their stories and paintings made me realise that they're going to be a loss for most of us at St Barnabas... "

"My children made her cry" Monica watched as the woman wiped a tear, and stepped into her car.

She glanced down to the box in her hands, an indication that maybe Johnny and Roshni were an accomplishment after all, regardless of Denise's cynical mockery.

"Thank you again, there was no need..." Monica repeated, grateful that she was spared of an awkward trip to their now ex primary school.

As the car engine started, she heard Phoebe shout behind her, "Need a hand?"

She turned around, and saw him approach with another bright torch.

"She went through all this after the things Freddie screamed in the playground?!" He continued as he took the large load off of her with ease.

"Apparently!" Monica watched the car move down the road, and around the street corner before shutting the front gate after her.

"Well, I will say that she's much more attentive than that headmaster... maybe Freddie is right" He started carrying it back towards the house.

She rushed beside him to light his path, careful to dodge one of the cats scurring out the front door, "Right about what?"

He set the box onto the floor by his feet, "He told Mr Armstrong that he hopes Mrs Greenwood gets his job"

"Couldn't agree more," She lowered her voice, shutting the door after herself, "Now we have to look through all these things and find them a new school!"

"I bet that there will be something worth framing" Phoebe chuckled.

"We'll see what the museum curator has to say first," she shook her camel coat off, "What a pity. That cup of hot chocolate will be cold by now"

"I can go and make you another before I lock up for the night" Phoebe offered.

"No need, I think I'll just relax somewhere," she reached down as she flimsily pulled her sneakers off, "It's nesquick anyway, it's meant to be cold"

"Suit yourself, I'll check upstairs before I leave" he turned away, and made it for the stairwell.

Monica didn't question him, just bent down to the box on the ground in the middle of the hallway and started shifting through each scroll or book one by one.

"There's an awful lot to get through... maybe another day," she decided, standing back up, "I'll think about that tomorrow"

Brushing any dirt off her knees as she felt the weariness in her joints and at the small of her back, she headed into the piano room to join her small family on the sette. Only this time round she found them as she'd left them, huddled in eachother's embrace under the throw, the cats now curled up either beside them or at their feet.

She glanced towards the television as she felt her heart melting. On its screen, Dorothy Gale anxiously walked down the corridor with Toto under her arm. She cautiously opened the front door when reaching it, and the screen filled with Technicolour as she entered the land of Oz. 

As Dorothy's gazed around in wonder and the strings through the television speakers harmoniously played the tune to Over the Rainbow, Monica diverted her attention back to the three most important human beings in her life.

Johnny and Roshni were now fast asleep under their father's arm, snoring against his chest as he pressed his lips to their foreheads. He looked back up at Monica with adoration as she quietly treaded closer.

"You're too tired to make love now, don't deny it" she whispered jokingly.

He glowered back silently and pursed his lips slightly, to which she agreeably closed her eyes and kissed him back. Then she moved Johnny's eyebrow-skimming bangs out of the way to kiss his forehead, tucking the blanket up under his chin before gently taking the Mickey Mouse clip out of Roshni's hair and kissing her cheek as she too quietly snored.

She stared at it in her hand for a moment, "Who would ever think that one insignificant accessory would generate so much drama in one day?"

She slipped it into her bleached denim trouser pocket, turing her head back to the television screen where Glinda the good witch of the North was now making herself apparent, arriving by bubble.

She looked back at her family, and now Freddie had his eyes closed too and she could just about hear his breathing turn rhythmic. At that moment, Denise's contemptuous words of ridicule no longer mattered, for her best accomplishment in life was right in front of her.

She bent down to the VHS player and stopped the tape so that her family could sleep before she switched the set off. Then, she went over to the fire place to put another log or two into the flames to keep it going through to the early hours of the morning, for Freddie was too comfortable to move.

She switched the lights off on the wall before exiting the room, closing the double doors after her just a crack in case any cats wanted to get out to use the litter trays.

She passed the boxes full of Johnny and Roshni's old schoolwork once more before heading up the stairwell to bed, a subtle reminder of not only the fact that she and Freddie had to start school-hunting again, but also of Mrs Greenwood's random act of kindness.

"Perhaps it was because I helped that boy earlier. After all, one good turn deserves another..."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, it's the early hours of the 24th November where I am and I hoped that I would get this done and dusted before or after then, but here we are... 

It's been 28 years without you, and while it's been hard in some way to see what you've become since the biopic in the last 365 days, I am glad that in some way you will live forever as the legend that you are and that your memory is helping the fight against the terrible disease that robbed you from us. Thank you for bringing me and others so much joy and helping me make so many wonderful friends and giving me so much inspiration into my art and writing. Even if the show must go on I wish that you could've gotten much so better and that you could still be with us, Freddie. 

You've captured my love
Stolen my heart
Changed my life... ❤