Denise, from the lingerie stint she wished that she could forget from only a few months before, had now locked eyes with Monica across the supermarket aisle.

The Hitchcock Blonde had two fair-haired young children standing next to her: a little boy that looked around Johnny and Roshni's age who was lolling behind her, and her doppelgänger of a daugher standing by her side.

"So that's the school bully who locked my child in a shed... and Denise is her mother," she thought in stunned silence, "What a satisfying coincidence. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all"

Thoughts of racing through her head about what could happen. More than likely, Denise either remembered her or she knew who was behind her daughter Sarah's suspenion three months before.

"Mum, please can we go?" Roshni repeated, desperately tugging her mother's sleeve.

"Listen to your daughter and move, you idiot! Just move along and pretend not to notice her!" her head screamed, but she was numbly glued in place to her trolley as the anger from that stressful day seeped through her veins again.

It was too late to escape, for Denise was fast approaching with a basket propped in her elbow as her children followed like cattle. She was done up the same way as she remembered with the cloud of blonde, dark-rooted hair surrounding her head that only Bonnie Tyler could get away with and her orange, cakey makeup and pink contouring on her face of grimace. The only difference was that this time she was wearing a green tartan trench coat that seemed to be the odd part out of her appearance. Monica knew because she'd seen Princess Diana wearing an exact copy only week's before in one of Freddie's copies of Vogue, and Denise was anything but as classy and elegant as a princess.

But somehow, she managed to snap herself out of it and push her trolley away, essentially breaking eye contact whilst her son and daugher timidly lingered behind and out of view.

"Look ahead... look at the bakery up ahead" she swerved the trolley past the three Aldreds as she kept her head held up straight, holding her breath at the clickety click sound of Denise's heels hitting the ground with each step and the feel of the green-eyed stare following her, the headache-inducing smell of Opium by Yves Saint Laurent invading her nostrils again.

"Oh no, Sarah saw me!" Roshni whispered.

"Don't look back, you'll only make it worse" Monica instructed quietly.

She thought she'd gotten away with it, until a child's scream stopped her:

"Mummy, it's Johnny and Roshni, they used to be in my class!"

Denise's son was now pointing in her direction.

"Her son knows them?" Monica watched as Johnny snapped out of his strop and ran to thim as they greeted eachother.

Sarah then interjected, "Mum, that's the little girl who got me-"

"Sarah, not now!" Denise reprimanded, then turned to Monica apologetically, "Sorry, you'll have to excuse my daughter's tales"

Nonetheless, Monica looked straight ahead at the bakery at the top of the aisle, pretending to ignore them as she felt her skin crawl.

"Lord give me strength,"  thinking up a distraction, she turned to Roshni, "Go and grab me a few sticks of baugettes from the bakery"

Roshni peered behind her, "But mum, what about-"

"Do it now before we leave" she heard her voice harden.

Roshni nodded and fled away, meanwhile Johnny was chatting away to Denise's son.

"Come on, Johnny, say your goodbyes to your old friend" Monica ordered, hand grasped back onto the trolly handlebar and started pushing.

Denise cooed across her, a little more loudly so that it drew the attention of nearby shoppers, "Hold on! I know you from somewhere!"

"She remembers me after all! God, this is dreadful"

Needless to say, Monica was desperate to escape, "You probably recognise me from the school drop-off and pick-up"

"No wait, I know now! You were at the launch party of Monda's summer lingerie and swimwear range, weren't you?! Well you see, I'm the head of promotion for them" The blonde bared a sickly fuschia lipstick smile as if she never behaved the way she did that day towards herself or that teenage apprentice, and it made her feel even more revolting.

"No I wasn't, but I did help make the television spot for it," Monica thought, but refrained from telling the truth, "I'm sorry, I don't remember you"

"Mum, her daughter really did get me suspended!"Sarah was now tugging on the sleeve of her mum's green coat persuasively.

And just like that, Monica was trapped

She wished Freddie was by her side at that moment, for he was far better at confrontation than she was.

"All it'd take him is one sentence to sort out out the both of them" she thought to herself.

But unfortunately, she had no moustached, foul-mouthed diva by her side, and would have to wriggle out of this one on her own.

But thankfully, Denise wasn't all too convinced.

"Sarah, you can't just accuse every black-haired little girl that goes to your school of being Freddie Mercury's daughter!" the woman reprimanded, then turned to Monica apologetically, "Sorry, my daughter is a bit of a tell tale... she got tied up in an incident at school"

Monica stammered, keeping her act up as she glanced to Sarah, " S-She did, did she? Such a pity. What happened?" 

"Her and her friends locked a girl in a shed by mistake during a game of Hide and Seek, then lied about it," she gave a playful eyeroll, "Their awful vice principal wouldn't let her go unpunished. A little injustice never hurt anyone."

Her mini double protested, "But Mum, her daughter is the one who got me suspended!"

"Oh, Sarah, don't waste me with this rubbish again!" Denise nagged dismissively, then turned back to Monica and continued her tirade, "So anyway, the girl just so happened to be Freddie Mercury's daughter and shortly after he took them out of the school! Can you believe it?"

"Thank god for no uniforms at the weekend," Monica thought, "Otherwise she'd believe her daughter"

"But mum, Freddie Mercury really was there in Mr Armstrong's study, and with his assistant too!" Sarah took a step in front of her as she tried to persuade her, then pointed to the bakery counter up ahead where Johnny and Roshni now were, "That boy and girl over there by the donuts are his children!"

Monica then assumed that Sarah Aldred was a compulsive liar, both at home and in the headmaster's office, and at that moment she was thankful in a way that Denise didn't believe her own child. But her chance to exit the situation still hadn't arisen.

"Nonsense!" Denise cackled, and pointed to Monica, "That would mean that this woman is his wife!"

"Future wife, actually, but whatever" Monica put her right hand over her left uncomfortably to cover her engagement ring.

"But she is, and they are!" Sarah grew frustrated.

Monica folded her arms and decided to watch and listen. After all, she knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.

But Denise had no problem voicing her opinion in public and explaining to her daughter as she thrust a hand in Monica's direction for emphasis, "But this lady is just another bog-trotter expat, sweetie... she obviously got fell in love with a sailor in her home country and got the boat to here when she discovered he was having his baby."

"Well, that indicates her racism directed towards Steven's apprentice that day" Monica grit her teeth as she gripped her shopping trolley, wishing she could die right then and there as she felt the lining of her stomach aflame with humiliation.  It wasn't anything unlike what she'd read about herself in the tabloids, except that it was a far-fetched, disgusting presumtion coming from such a vile human being.

But she wasn't going to show her that it bothered her. She wanted to get back in her car and to drive back to Garden Lodge to prepare dinner as soon as possbile.

"Well, how come that black-haired girl with her is the exact same girl who got me suspended? I don't think she's her nanny" Sarah argued.

And somehow, Denise still had a condescending answer for that one, "Obviously, she decided to raise two babies that she never wanted. It happens all the time with the Irish! Then they come here and then they steal all our jobs. Freddie Mercury wouldn't see anything special in that, especially if he is a f***** like daddy says he is."

At last, Denise's spiteful gloating and that gay slur had made Monica snap, and even if the last thing she was going to cause a scene that resulted in her dragging the woman to the floor, she wasn't going to let her get away with two derogatory slurs at once.

"Come on, Sarah," Denise grabbed the girl's arm, a smug grin on her face before she turned her back to her, "Let's stop bothering this unfortunate lady and go find your brother"

It was that lucky second that Monica remembered the industry gossip that her boss Theo had mentioned to her. And then, loud and clear, she let out the most glorious comeback that she could think of at that second before Denise could walk away, and she didn't care if there were children present, for she knew that they would't understand:

"The man I love may be what your husband calls a f**, but at least I didn't get my career by sucking on another man's bellend under the business table."

She watched as the blonde stopped in her tracks, silent yet dangerous. Knowing it was far too late to regret what she said, Monica got the same feeling of apprehension that she only ever got if Freddie was in a bad mood and ready to go off if she or Phoebe ever said the wrong thing by accident.

Denise stood still for five seconds as her daughter tried to drag her away, not understanding what was said, "Come on, mum! ...Mum?"

Monica had never gotten into a cat fight before, nor was she ever the cause of one. But the way that Denise slowly turned around with a chilling look in her eyes made her heart beat faster as as she was about to meet her doom.

She spoke dangerously at a normal volume and only able to muster, "E-Excuse me?! What was that last thing you said?"

Monica didn't bother explaining but decided to carry on, swinging her trolley around and ready to make a getaway to the bakery aisle whilst the woman was still numb with shock and embarrassment, "You might want to be careful next time you mock another woman's life choices. They say that loose lips sink ships... and marriages."

"So you do know who I am after all! How dare you speak of that in front of my daughter!" Denise stormed towards her as fast as her high shoes would let her, basket of groceries swinging in her arm as she continued, "You just barked up the wrong tree, you conniving little bitch!"

Terrified with bated breath, Monica was ready to take on the blunt trauma of a strike to the cheek from Denise's bejewelled hand swinging towards her...

Beep-beep... beep-beep

Or so it felt.

Denise paused, hand in mid-air as she listened to an electronic sound that she'd never heard before.

"Excuse me" not wanting to get fired from her job, Monica managed to snap herself out of shock and reach into her shoulderbag to answer the perfectly-timed call from her Motorola, fully expecting it to be Theo.

But to her pleasant surprise, it was Freddie calling back, "Hello, Monica? It's me again"

Then, a light at the end of the tunnel appeared the moment she heard his voice, and she pressed the volume loudspeaker button as an idea in her head began to form, "Time for a little harmless fun"

"Hello...? Darling, are you even there?" his voice was now faintly cracking through the ear speaker, but loud enough so that Denise and Sarah were able to hear it as well.

"Freddie," she forced a smile, trying to ignore the fuming blonde standing inches away from her, waiting to continue the brawl, "I didn't expect you to be calling back so soon... What is it?"

"Listen, Mary called the moment I put down the fucking telephone down," he sounded more exasperated than he did only a couple of minutes before, "Christie's Autions want to deliver my new Henry Scott Tuke painting sooner than I realised. When do you think you'll be there to let them in?"

"I'll tell Mary when I get home which day this week suits best," was her automated answer, even though she didn't know how long she'd be now that she'd gotten herself into a muddle, "Anything else?"

He rambled on, "Maybe take Johnny to Harrods for a hair cut while you're at it, dear. He was looking a little on the shabby side when I left for Australia and you know what my parents are like when it comes to boys with long hair."

"See? It really is Freddie Mercury!" Sarah, who had now caught up, tugged on her mother's arm excitedly, "That's what he sounded like in Mr Armstrong's office... only less loud and cross"

The blonde snatched her arm back to herself, still on edge, "It's obviously a colleague with the same name"

Monica couldn't blame Denise for being unconvinced. After all, Freddie sounded perfectly ordinary and undetectable when he brought up a simple housekeeping request, but when he sang...

"Freddie, before you hang up can you do something for me?" she suddenly said.

He babbled uneasily on the other end, "Well, I'd like to get on with my bath but-"

"Please sing me something before you go" at this point she was on the verge of desperation to prove Denise wrong so that she could be left alone to finish her shopping.

Freddie grew irritated at her unusual request, "Sing? Why-"

"Just sing to me... please" she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Monica... why are you so insistent about this? You never ask me to sing over the telephone"

"I've missed your voice... and none of the radio stations are playing your songs lately." she claimed, for it was half-true after all.

"Thanks for the reminder!" he shot back sarcastically, but one second later he had a change of heart, "Oh, sod it! What do you want me to sing?"

"Whatever you feel like singing" Monica answered, keeping her arms to herself as Denise glared back at her with such scrutiny.

"Hmm... alright," She heard him ponder, then he cleared his throat.

Grabbing Sarah's wrist, Denise was ready to storm away, but stopped at the sound of his voice singing John Deacon's number one hit:

"Steve walks warily down the street, with his brim pulled way down low..."

Monica felt herself smile at the sound of his voice slowly putting her at ease again, her foot involuntarily tapping to the beat.

Meanwhile, the desired effect was being had. Denise turned as white as a sheet in disbelief the longer she listened to each verse of Another One Bites The Dust, her shopping basket and its contents slipping out of her arm and falling to the floor with a crowd-drawing clatter.

Regardless, Freddie sang on to his heart's content, "Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?..."

Roshni reappeared by her mother's side with Johnny behind her, timidly joining in with her father as she dropped an armful of baugettes into the shopping trolley, "Out of the doorway, the bullets rip, to the sound of the beat..."

"Another One Bites The Dust..." Freddie reached the chorus, "Another One Bites The Dust... and another one gone, and another one gone, Another One Bites The Dust"

A now confounded and red-faced Denise scrambled onto her knees, grabbing her shopping scattered at her and Sarah's feet. Monica simply watched on and listened with growing satisfaction as Freddie and Roshni sang the last verse, "Hey, its gonna get you too, Another One Bites The Dust!"

And it only got better.

"Mummy!" Denise's son returned to the scene, shouting as he ran up to her on the floor, "Our car is being dragged away!"

"Shut up and stop wasting my time, Bradley!" She dismissed him, then looked up at her daughter, "See, Sarah? This is why you've got to stop with these fibs, you're influencing him!"

"But a truck with a ginormous fishing hook is dragging it away!" the little boy persisted, tugging her sleeve of her green goat.

"What?!" She sprang back up onto her feet, fumbling with her armful of groceries.

The ruckus caught the attention of an approaching young man in the Tesco uniform, "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Denise dashed down the aisle and to the front window as she  ignored him, her two children following behind quickly.

Freddie stopped singing on the Motorola, "Monica, what's going on back there?"

"I'll have to call you back, something has just come up. Thanks for singing to me" Monica perched her hands at the trolley, and she and Johnny and Roshni started to follow the three Aldreds at a distance.

"I'll talk later then, but I'd appreciate some warning before you ask me to sing again... bye, my love"

"Yeah, sorry, bye" she breathed, then put the phone back into her bag after hearing the dial tone, watching as Denise barged her way through an occupied checkout point lined with shoppers.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" the store worker ran after her and her family, pointing to the basket in her hand, "You have to pay for those!"

But Denise was more concerned about her black BMW seemingly being dragged out of the blue-painted parking space with the sizeable white wheelchair symbol splashed across it by a tow truck right outside the shop window.

Already, the vehicle was very familiar to Roshni, "Mum, that's the same car we spotted before we came in!"

"Why, it is!" Monica watched as she tried to hold back her snickering, then turned to Johnny, "See, love? That's why you need a blue badge."

Her son, still as surly as he was ten minutes before, ignored her as he too looked on.

But she didn't bother reprimanding his ill manners again, for the scene in front of her was far too delightful to miss.

"HEY! THAT'S MY CAR!" Denise shrieked hysterically as she pressed her face to the window, banging her balled fists on the glass to try and catch the attention of the tow truck driver.

Monica had come this far, so she thought that she'd comply once again as she stopped as far as the checkout point would allow her, "What was that you said, Denise? A little injustice never hurt anyone?"

She heard nearby shoppers laughed at her remark, and Denise and her two mortified children fled out the door, basket of groceries still in her hand.

The  store worker chased after them, "Wait, ma'am, you have to pay for those!"

But the Aldreds ignored him as they tried to catch up with the truck carrying away her beloved BMW as it exited the car park, and the nearby shoppers applauding the entertaining scene that had unfolded in front of them.

"Well, she's the police station's problem now" Monica turned her trolley back around, then to her children, "Alright, you two. Let's keep looking"

Johnny and Roshni cordially dispersed ahead of her as she wheeled on, shopping list in hand as she still tried to process what on Earth had just happened. But one thing she knew was that she couldn't wait to tell everyone at work, and that Denise and her daughter would never bother her or her family again...

*****

Garden Lodge, around 8:30pm

"I am sorry to say that Peter was not verywell during the evening..."

Monica and her two small, sleepy children were all dressed in their pyjamas and nestled atop the covers of Johnny's bed under the lamplight, a small copy of The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter in her hand.

"His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter..." Her voice was hushed, then she altered it slightly for Mrs Rabbit, "'One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime...But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail hadbread and milk and blackberries for supper-"

"Why couldn't Peter get anything for supper?" Johnny interrupted.

"Because Peter had a stomach ache and didn't do as he was told," Monica shut the small white book in her hand, "And that's the end of the book. Into bed now"

She eased herself back onto her feet as Johnny quietly griped under the covers, "Everyone knows what happens to Peter Rabbit. Why couldn't you read something else?"

"But tonight was my turn to pick a bedtime story!" Roshni boisterously defended, standing on her mattress.

Monica shushed her daughter as she held the duvet up enough for her to climb in, and began tucking her in, "That's right... And it's a story all about disobedience and being greedy"

"And what happens if you don't be a goody-two shoes like Roshni" Johnny muttered.

"Hey!" his twin sister leapt up, about to jump out of bed and tackle him.

"That's enough!" Monica firmly admissioned, laying Roshni back down, "If you two don't stop quarrelling at bedtime then then there will be no bedtime stories"

Johnny rolled away as he hastily replied, "Good, I don't want to listen to any more stories about stupid bunnies anyway"

Monica sucked in a breath and decided to give her daughter a goodnight kiss first, then her son, which of course, he didn't reciprocate. He lay stiffly on his side with his back to her, lips in a comically tight seal that somehow still sprained her heart.

"He'll come around... even Freddie said so" Monica reminded herself, then reached over to the bedside table in between them to switch the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness.

"Don't forget to switch on Mister Bear, Mummy" Roshni reminded her in the dark.

"Of course" Monica gently assured her, and bent down to the socket down low above the skirting board where the loveable teddy-shaped night light was plugged in, and flicked the switch on.

Mister Bear cast his warm, comforting light across the room and on their faces as their heavy, tired eyelids started to twitch, and that was her cue to close the door gently after her.

Ever since Roshni had been locked in the coal shed at their old school a few months before, she hated sleeping in the dark. What followed were nights where she would stay up way past her bed time and go downstairs where the lights were still on until she fell asleep and carried back up to bed, only to wake up crying in terror in the early hours and disturbing the Garden Lodge household all over again. Eventually, one morning a very grouchy Freddie had enough and ordered Phoebe to dig through the box of Johnny and Roshni's old baby things sitting in the attic until he found Mister Bear again, and although it was just a quick-fix solution to deal with the little girl's trauma it brought peace to Garden Lodge at night again.

Monica was about to turn the door knob when a little squeak of a meow sounded at her feet and a warm, furry body slinking around her legs, and she looked down to see Goliath at her feet.

"You want let in with them, Golly?" Monica whispered, "What about all your other cat friends?"

He started to scratch at the bottom of their door, meowing louder.

"Hey, stop that!" She clapped and tutted at him, knowing that Freddie was annoyed at the sight of repeated claw marks on the doors of his house.

But Goliath simply gazed back up at her with his complacent golden green eyes as he obiently sat himself down on his hind legs.

"Oh, don't give me that look," she crossed her arms, "Did Freddie teach you to give that look?"

Goliath chirped and headbutted her legs again persuasively.

Monica sighed and left their door open just a crack to allow the black cat to slink in, then she trodded towards the master bedroom to change into her night clothes.

Her hand involuntarily ran along the bannister as she started imagining what it would be like if a row of Johnny and Roshni's colourful old baby clothes were airing on it.

"Here we go again, another baby fantasy..." she sighed softly.

Of course, she left behind most of the baby memories in Stafford Terrace, but that didnt stop her from picturing what it'd be like to have a newborn baby in Garden Lodge.

She envisioned the clean smell of talcum powder wafting through the slightly humid air after their bedtime bath as Phoebe would brush past her with a pile of folded terry towel nappies in his arms, careful not to trip on a cat as Freddie's soothing, hushed voice sounding from their nursery was singing them to sleep, blending with You Take My Breath Away as the chorus would twinkle faintly from their grandmother's music box...

"But you still don't know if he wants it again or not," she felt tears in her eyes as she pushed  the slider doors open, "He's so ambiguous about it... you don't even know if he really cares"

He was just the same before Johnny and Roshni came along, just as open and carefree at the topic, and overjoyed when the good news came. Down the years she always tried to think about the way that Freddie was around the time that she got pregnant, back in the days when they were both drunk in love. Was he in a good mood, or a bad mood? How was his career going?

"Oh god, this is why you should've kept a diary all these years to document these things!" she hastily undid her bleached denim trouser buttons.

She could never pinpoint an exact date of Johnny and Roshni's conception, although she calculated roughly that it must've been in between February and March of 1978. But one night in particular, the night before her first Valentine's Day with Freddie, always stood out in her memory. After all, it took place at a release party at John Reid's newly-bought South Kensington manor with enough people in attendance and lots of Champagne and cocktails to accomodate them all.

Semi-naked and sitting on her side of the bed, Monica reminisced, "Lots and lots of champagne and cocktails..."

Somewhere in Mayfair, London, 13th Febuary 1978

"Darling, how many of those have you had?"

Freddie watched on perturbed as Monica swiped another cocktail from the refreshments table in the bustling hallway, then to the grandfather clock several feet away from him.

"Two o'clock..." he pondered in concern, "She has to be at work in five hours"

They had arrived at John Reid's house by taxi only five hours before, and already in that time Monica had snatched up every drink offered to her by the catering staff wafting around from room to room for reasons he could not understand. Often it was him that was drinking his own weight in alcohol as she played the role of the demure plus-one and kept an eye on him, but it was tonight that roles were reversed for the first time.

Monica looked at the glass in her hand before shrugging noncholantly, "Too many"

In the past hour she was close to falling asleep each time she sat down, and Freddie had to come up with an excuse to make her stand up again. But already Monica was already eyeing a peacock chair in the next room where the spanish disco earworm Yes Sir, I Can Boogie was wafting from the sound system, and was now staggering towards it like a newborn horse with her maroon alligator purse in one hand and cocktail glass in the other as she tried not to spill it all over herself.

Even her outfit was as bold as her behaviour was, and much more daring than what she normally wore to parties. Her heavily made-up blue eyes donned a pair of strong false lashes that made her more doll-like whilst her lips lathered with a cherry pink gloss, and her dark hair had its usual wave, only it was more teased and back-combed than usual and swept to the side. She had thrown on a black mini dress with a plunging cowl neckline, wearing only a bottle green sash draped around her neck for coverage and not even a pair of tights to cover her goosebumped legs.

"I want to make sure that I look good standing next to you, that's all" was her excuse when getting ready in the bedroom at Stafford Terrace earlier on in the night, referring to Freddie's choice to wear his white satin trousers and his black shirt dashed with sparkly multicolour stripes slightly open.

"Freddie, can you-can you remember where I put my cardigan?" she slurred in panic, eyes wide as she surveyed the buzzing room.

"Oh, thank god, she wants to leave!"

But he kept his thoughts zipped, holding his hand out to her, "Oh, we'll find it somewhere... and when we do we'll order a taxi afterwards, alright?"

"Okay then" She giggled, letting him drag her away.

But unbeknownst to him, Monica had no intention of leaving the party.

Once he'd helped her walk up several steps to the halfway level (with great difficulty), he was intent on asking the first person that he recognised where John [Reid]'s cloakroom was.

"Look, there's Elton John! There are more stars than there are in heaven at these things!" Monica declared, pointing to the singer dressed in a neon-chequered jacket and tweed cap as he stood against the bannister, champagne glass in hand as he conversed .

"Keep it down, you've met Elton before! He's one of my closest friends!" He hissed in her ear, retaining a tight grip around her waist as he noticed Elton awkwardly blushing a little.

"You keep forgetting that I'm still a commoner... does this mean that Cliff Richard will be here as well?" Monica playfully mewled.

In the hope that she'd keep her mouth shut, Freddie smirked and gave her gentle spank on the bottom, to which she yipped slightly.

He spoke before she had time to complain, "Where does your darling John keep all the coats again?"

Elton's brows furrowed behind his statement green wide-frame glasses as Monica's hand made a grab for his champagne glass.

But Freddie caught her wrist in time, "Ah ah!! You already have a drink... Sorry, Elton. You were saying?"

Elton held his glass out of the pouting girl's reach and answered his question, "Right below your feet... the small door under the stairs"

"Thank you, Sharon," Freddie linked his arm with hers, "Come along, darling"

"Safe home" Elton called after them both, and Monica returned a flamboyant royal wave as she got dragged back down the stairs.

"Fred, I don't want to leave" she slurred.

"You have to be at Christina's for half seven in the AM!" He reminded her, marching through the crowded hallway.

"But I don't want to think about that now!" she moped.

"You'll thank me later," he reached for the small door knob, "You have your whole life ahead of you... and plenty of time to get flat-out pissed again and again"

She put her hands behind her back, "I suppose you'd know all about that"

"Being a thirty one year old man? Yes, I've had my fair share" he flatly answered, swinging the door open.

Silently, he rummaged through the oversized coats and jackets in the small dark cupboard, and Monica stood there as she tried to think of a way to deter him from making her leave.

"Ah hah, found them" He lifted her flimsy black cardigan off the hook, then reached for his own cover-up.

But before he could lift his patent leather jacket off the hanger, a pair of hands snatched it out of his view.

"HEY!" Freddie tried to grab her, dropping her cardigan.

But Monica rushed into the front of the tall mirror in the hall as she fed each arm into the sleeves, twisting side to side to admire every angle of herself in the mirror. Freddie huffed and folded his arms impatiently, deciding to wait.

"Mmm... why does he have to smell so good?" she closed her eyes in bliss, taking time to sniff his satisfying musk lingering on the collar.

"Doesn't look too bad on her, actually... the shape of her figure balances it nicely" he watched her posing in front of her reflection and fixing the way her loose dark waves fell.

"Ugh! I wish I had some makeup in my bag to cover all these pimples" she wiped her hand across her forehead in despair.

"Oh, my darling, why fuss over a few blemishes when you're already beautiful?" he wanted to say, tapping his foot impatiently, but then suggested something more helpful, "I can find you a good Harley Street dermatologist... but all you'll really need is a facial or something"

"Why do I need a facial when I have you for that?" She unsubtly retorted and slipped a coquettish wink over her shoulder.

Freddie continued to stare back in puzzlement, then caught onto what she really meant.

"Oh, my dear, you are NAUGHTY!" Smirking, he launched himself towards her, but his reflection behind hers helped her make a quick escape.

Giggling and adrenaline-fuelled, Monica weaved her way around partygoers standing in the corridor and across the dining room, looking back at him with a delerious gleam in her eyes.

"Monica! Come back here... MONICA!" Freddie boomed, grinning as he chased her out of the house.

All eyes were on the lovebirds as she stumbled out onto the patio, but he yanked her back by the wrist when they were about to collide with another group of guests standing right outside the patio doors in deep conversation.

"Sorry, she's in an excitable mood tonight," Freddie sheepishly apologised as he walked the laughing girl past them, then hissed low enough so that only she could hear, "Honestly! Haven't you ever been this shit-faced before!?"

Monica shrugged, face now red from laughing so hard as she gasped for her breath, "Oh, of course... but not since... not since my sister's wedding a few years back"

"Wedding? Really? How tame" He looked around the garden for somewhere else to sit her down, hoping that the cool air would sharpen her up a little.

"I was one of her brides maids..." she nodded, then scrunched her face in disgust, "we had to wear an awful salmon-coloured frock!"

He giggled, "No wonder you needed a drink or two... oh, but I bet that you were the prettiest bridesmaid there that day"

"But you would think I looked awful!" Her face turned crimson.

"No!" Freddie pushed her against the pebble-dashed wall of the house when they were some distance away from other people.

Monica let out, "Freddie! What are you-"

But he silenced her with a kiss or two.

"You make me feel young again" he gushed out suddenly when they broke away for air.

"But you are young" She slipped her arms around his neck to support herself in her light-headed state.

"No, like I did when I was your age and I only just moved here..." He trailed off, rubbing her thighs as she let out a shriek.

"...Well in that case, right now my head feels like that Frank and Nancy Sinatra song" she slurred.

"Which one?" He moved a little lower and paused.

"I can't remember," she admitted, "It was playing in the cafe earlier"

He chuckled into the crook of her neck, "You're so cute when you're drunk... maybe I should get you drunk more often"

"Why?" She pushed him away slightly, "Tell me"

"Because you dress up in my clothes..." his hands rubbed up and down her arms as he nuzzled her, "And the most adorable shit comes out of your mouth"

She hiccuped, then babbled, "Like how I wish it was summer because your eye colour turns from chocolate brown to golden honey in the sunlight?"

"Stop it, you giddy goose!"  his hand went up her skirt and grabbed the flesh of her bottom.

"But it does!" She cackled against his hot breath on her neck.

"Has anybody ever told you that you have a neck like a swan!!" Freddie started kissing her collar bone, and her heart beating rapidly in her eardrums as her hand rested on his abdomen.

Things were escalating quickly in such an open space. She looked around to make sure nobody was looking.

"Touch me" He ordered, pulling her hand underneath his shirt and silver jewellery, and she willingly savoured the infectious bodily heat and texture of his chest hair beneath her palm.

As his teeth started to leave a trail of marks behind, her hand instinctively moved lower down his stomach, wincing every time she felt his teeth nipping her skin.

"We want more, do we?" Freddie didn't seem to mind her unbuckling his belt either.

"Is it too much to ask for?" she heard herself say as he reciprocated, smoothing his hand further up to the elastic waistband of her lace panties.

He didn't answer as he tugged them down her leg, and she let them fall to her ankles before stepping out of them and watched as he crouched down to pick them up off the ground, "Wha-What are you doing?"

He wordlessly stood back up again and stuffed her panties into the pocket of the jacket on her back, and she took the opportunity to eye the tent in his pants.

"Just kiss me again" his hungry lips grazed hers as he forced his hand between her legs, his other hand lifting her thigh to hide the action from the other party guests.

She closed her eyes and kissed him back, slipping her hand into his boxer shorts...

"Fuck!" He shuddered as her hand raked through his body hair and felt his hot, throbbing erection .

She gasped, taken aback by his long finger slipping in between her wet labia.

"Tell me what you think about when you're at work" he spoke into her mouth as he started circling his fingertip on her.

"Hmmm, Okayyyyy..." she breathed, her hand wrapping up and down his length as she began matching his rhythm, "I think about w-when the next customer is going to come in..."

"Anything else?" He then slipped his long fingers inside her.

Her jaw dropped in pleasure, unable to answer, "B-Being back in your arms again"

"You-You know what I think of?" He continued his interrogation, sweat forming on the stubble of his upper lip.

A shiver darted up her spine as her thumb slid across his seeping purple tip, "W-What?"

He fingered her faster, "I think of the nice view of your fun bags bouncing when you ride my cock-"

"Stop! Somebody will hear!!" Monica covered his mouth as her cheeks burned in embarrassment.

But in response he started kissing her palm over his lips, savouring the perfume lingering on her porcelain skin as she eyed the moonlit garden over his shoulder, on the lookout for the slight possibility of somewhere to engage in such an act with more privacy and comfort, for the pebble-dashed wall behind her was scraping onto her bare upper thighs as her body spasmed each time his fingers went deeper.

"What's wrong?" He pulled away when felt her walls clenched uncomfortably.

Freddie looked behind him, and found that she had clocked a white rattan daybed in the corner of the garden space, beneath a bare weeping tree.

"Oh, I see..." he smirked, pulling his fingers out and lifting her off her feet.

"Where are you taking me?!" She panicked and tried to fix her skirt as she felt him begin to carry her away.

"I saw where those not-so-innocent baby blue eyes were looking, you minx!" He hissed in her ear.

"But someone will see us! What if we get caught like we did back in Cornwall?" She barely got to look past him to check if any of the other partygoers were watching.

"Does it matter?" Freddie answered as they descended further into the darkness where their new-found love nest was waiting, "Anyway, I almost forgot how thrilling it is to shag outside when there's a party"

Hearing that, Monica felt a twinge of envy being reminded of his previous lovers as she watched over his shoulder as the house grew smaller, "So he is going to do it... this really is happening"

But she loved him too much to even try fighting back, and clung onto his lithe torso as she too grew more aroused.

"This isn't Belfast anymore, Monica," she reassured herself, "unless there are gossip journalists here nobody will judge you for doing this"

"Do you think that Mr Reid will mind?" She felt him lowering her onto the white cotton padding.

He reached up and pulled the sun shield down for more coverage, "Only if we get caught"

She giggled as she started flimsily undoing more of his shirt buttons as his hands lifted the skirt of her dress further up.

"Not too high, it's still winter!" Monica gasped, feeling the cold breeze gush between her legs.

"You can go on top then" He reassured as he sat up and pulled her closer so that she was straddling him.

"God... the way he smiles back at me in the dark, and those dimples..."

The naughty thrill of it all finally started to hit her. Her appetite grew as her motor skills slowed down from the alcohol and endorphins in her system, her mind awhirl with exhilaration as the dark, handsome figure's tongue danced with hers and his hands savoured her body up and down, their heavy breathing blocking out any sound from the outside world.

"Fuck, you're so sexy. Just make me feel good" she roughly pulled Freddie's head against her cleavage.

If it weren't for his tipsiness then he would've laughed at Monica being so outspoken and crass. Instead, he groaned and motorboated her breasts as she threw her head back at the titillating feel of his lips.

"Oh, my flower," he mused over and over, "my dark, Irish flower..."

Before long he shuffled out of his white satin trousers just enough, and poised his angry full erection beneath her pelvis.

"God, it's huge!" Monica loudly remarked, staring at its shadow down and in between their bodies in disbelief even though she'd already seen his anatomy many times before.

With a silent smirk, Freddie plunged up into her before she even got the chance to prepare herself for his girth, her jaw dropping open in response.

"Make me cum before we get caught..." he moaned as he fell back, holding her waist in place.

She nodded wordlessly as she steadied herself, and she started to move up and down on his length as her palms slid onto his open chest.

"Oh fuck yes, like that..." his eyes rolled to the back of his head in irresistible ecstasy.

"So... is this-is this what you think about when you're in the studio?" her mouth dropped open in delight.

Instead of answering, Freddie pulled her head down to kiss her back hungrily before she could squeal aloud, bucking his hips faster in time with her frenzied body writhing on top of him.

Monica wanted that very moment, the gorgeous man who changed her life. But her intoxicated mindset became so lost within the erotic feelings building up inside her that she lost her sense of rhythm.

Sensing that she was too drunk to take control and maintain an emotional connection, Freddie grabbed onto her and rolled her onto her back as she gasped aloud, "What are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna fuck your brains out" he growled as he spread her legs wider.

She felt herself shiver as his looming dark figure mounted above her, biting her bottom lip in anticipation before he gently slid himself back inside.

"God, Freddie..." She whimpered a little, scrunching her eyes shut in pleasure, "I don't think I can keep quiet"

"You better keep quiet or else I'll fuck you harder" he warned in a whisper, slowly starting to thrust.

"Oh yes please, fuck me hard!" she gasped out.

She wasn't normally this randy, but Freddie like it. So he obeyed her, moaning into her mouth as he increased his pace.

All of Monica's senses were utterly consumed by his everything to the point where she couldn't hear how loud her cries were, and it didn't long for her to spiral back into orgasm, "Oh god, Freddie... Oh god, OH GOD! Don't stop!"

And he too succumbed to the sound of her uncontrollable cries of pleasure and her body's convulsions, slamming himself in faster and deeper with each burst of elation as he finally reached climax.

"Fuck, I'm-I'm..." she heard him grunt, unable to finish his sentence.

He went still in Monica's arms, and her heartbeat echoed in her eardrums over the thumping music from the house in the background as her lipgloss-smeared mouth curled into an elated smile.

"I can't believe it... I just had sex at a party" she reverized, knowing that her highschool self would be floored at her own actions.

Freddie silently and affectionately buried his face into her fragrant brunette waves splayed by her head, his hand finding hers.

"You have a faint freckle on your neck, right here..." he heard her say out of the blue, then he felt her stained lips trail along the olive skin on his neck in her own wordless way of saying 'I love you'.

He chuckled, leaning above her and smothering her face with delicate kisses as he spoke in between them, "You know, I could just lie out here forever with you"

But she herself found it difficult to enjoy the afterglow for long because now her mind and body were spinning with a growing nausea. And Freddie's weight trapping her was only making it worsen.

"Oh no... all those cocktails" the dreadful feeling travelling up her system was too hard to ignore.

"Darling? Did I say the wrong thing?" Freddie lifted his head in concern when he felt her chest heaving beneath him as she tried to sit up before it was too late.

"Gerroff! I'm-I'm gonna sick!!" She managed to stutter through a full mouth, hand on her lips to hold it back.

Fumbling, he rolled her onto her side as she retched over the edge of the day bed, and soon everything escalated from romantic to dreadful.

"Oh my god... I should've known" he grit his teeth and rubbed circles into Monica's back and held her hair away from her face as she emptied the burning contents of her stomach onto the patio ground.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket (which at that point he was hoping would remain vomit-free for the rest of the night) for the next best thing to wipe the corners of her mouth dry, but all he could find were her panties.

"I-I can't find anything to wipe your face with" he admitted.

"I don't care, I just want to get away from all these people" she groaned, pulling her skirt back down as she swung her legs over the edge.

"I think you'd better clean yourself up right away first" he shuffled back into his satin trousers and buttoned up .

She ignored him, rushing over to the bushes to heave up even more.

Freddie stood up, getting Spread your Wings flashbacks in Roger's garden, "That better be all that there is"

Monica spluttered, and wiped her her mouth on the back of her hand, "I don't know... I don't feel so good anymore"

He looked back to the lights of the house across then lawn, then to her, "Let's find John and see what we can do"

Knowing that John Reid had a temper, Monica panicked, "No! He can't know about the-"

"Would you relax?" Freddie persuasively interjected, "He will be sympathetic about it, I assure you"

She nodded, biting her trembling bottom lip, "If you say so"

He held out an inviting hand in spite of his stony facial expression, "Just let me do the talking and it'll be fine"

"Alright then" Monica sucked in a breath and hung her head down, "John will never invite him let alone me out again if word gets out about this"

As Freddie led her back across the grass, keeping her steady, she did try to tell herself that it could've been worse, and knew that if it was her mother in his place she'd be dragging her back inside by the ear and sending her up to her room without supper.

"Thank god I left all that behind me" she winced with each step that she took, for her sandals were now giving her blisters.

Once she'd gone back indoors and into the light again, she felt many more eyes on her than she did before as they went back inside, and the whispers remarking the bedraggled couple were louder too, and she knew that they were probaby suspecting an argument.

"Wait here, John is standing right there..." She felt Freddie sit her down in the peacock chair that she spotted earlier, right next to one of the large speakers playing Lay Down Sally by Eric Clapton, a rather unfitting song of choice that Monica knew she'd remember from that moment.

In the corner of her eye and through the gaps in her hair, Monica slouched against the woven arm rest and watched his striped reebok trainers walk away across the maroon carpet until they reached a pair of smart-looking leather shoes that must've belonged to John Reid.

"He must've just come out of a business meeting and hadn't had any time to change" Monica assumed.

She watched longer as John and Freddie's feet stopped only inches from eachother, already knowing that he was making up an excuse. It was then that she decided to stare at her crossed legs in shame, until a moment later she felt John Reid's shadow above her.

"C'mon, sit up, love," She heard a scottish accent tell her loudly over the music in her ear, "Let's get her upstairs"

Freddie nodded, scooping her up in her limp state using the crook of his elbows so that the skirt wasn't riding up and exposing more than it should. Yes, Monica had seen wasted girls like this at parties, but she never imagined that one day she would become one of them.

Elton was still standing (no pun intended) at the same halfway level that he was before, John leaning in to kiss him and say, "Darling, I'm just taking them to the guest bedroom"

"Alright, just make sure she doesn't decorate it for us... it's already horrific enough" the singer lowly remarked the drunk, almost unconcious girl cradled in Freddie's arms.

"Trust me, if anything is going to end up like a Jackson Pollock painting it better be the green toilet bowl" Mr Reid murmured.

Freddie didn't know if this was the right time to tell them that she'd already thrown up in the garden, but kept his mouth shut for the time being and continued following his manager up to the top step.

"This way," John lead him down a long corridor as the house grew quieter the further away they moved from the party, "I'll make sure that the music below gets turned down"

"Oh, we won't be staying," she heard Freddie's voice close to her ear, "She's got work in the morning"

"Awwww, no, I don't wanna go to work" Monica dreaded.

"There's no way she's going to work in that state..." John came to her rescue, "Do you even know what time it is, Fred?"

"Last time I checked it was two...." She heard him trail off as she felt him lean closer to presumably look at the watch on John's outstretched wrist, "...My god! "

"See? Anyway, you're still welcome to stay" she heard John unlock a door.

Freddie sighed, "I suppose you're right... Thanks again, John"

"Aye, no bother," the door creaked as John Reid opened it with a flick of the light switch, "That door is the en suite bathroom"

"Oh, you darling! I was just about to ask" she felt Freddie enter the bedroom sideways so that she wouldn't bump her head or her legs on the doorway.

"Anything else I can get for you?" John asked.

"Perhaps a jug of water... and I think I dropped Monica's cardigan somewhere too. It's grey, and crocheted," Freddie mused as she felt him lowering her onto her feet lightly, then huffed, "Off you go, get yourself cleaned up"

"Who are you? My mother?" she wanted to say, but when Monica saw that the look on his face was still forbidding she knew that he would percieve it as much more aggressive than playful.

So she staggered to the en suite bathroom door like a newborn horse, not daring say another word in order to avoid him being all over her like a bad rash. Freddie's behaviour was so erratic that he could be tender one moment, then the next thing she new he could be giving her a lecture.

Freddie stood at the doorway and asked John, "Are you sure we can stay here for the night?"

"It's all yours... I'll be back up with your water in a minute" he stepped out of the room.

Freddie thanked him sincerely, then shut the door after him.

He stood and looked around, now that his surroundings were much more quieter and calmer, even though he could feel vibrations of the loud music beneath his feet, as well as the sound of the taps behind the en suite door as Monica prepared a bath.

"How could she be so senseless... she hardly drinks this much when we go out. So why tonight?" his head was swimming with bitter questions.

He couldn't think of any reason for her lose count of each drink in her hand. Monica often chose to be sensible and keep her head screwed on throughout the night. The only time he'd ever seen her otherwise was when she took him back to her and her friend's hotel the previous summer, and even then she was just slightly tipsy.

"Oh god, what a night that was... better than this one, anyway" he fell back onto the bed and lazily looked right and left.

The guest bedroom was modest with a double bed, and contemporary tasteless brown and orange wallpaper. As for the bathroom, it was, like many others, avacado-coloured with grey and white tiles. But even though he immediately thought it was hideous it'd do. After all, the house was still new and in need of redecoration, and perhaps a pile of vomit on the floor would've cheered the place up a bit.

As for Monica, he began to notice that she had gone quiet, and sat up to walk over and inspect just as a knock sounded on the bedroom door behind him.

Freddie opened it just a crack for safe measure, "Hello?"

"Only me, got what you needed from our room" John Reid stuck a crystal jar of water and Monica's gray cardigan through the crack of the door.

"Why, that was quick... thank you" Freddie took them off of him as the Scot stepped into the room.

"There are glasses sittingin front of the mirror over there" He pointed.

"Oh yes, so there is..." Freddie manouvered around the bed to get to the vanity.

John leaned against the door frame as he watched his dark-haired friend, "I turned the music down a little, is it okay?"

"Yes, thank you, it's fine" Freddie set the jug on the table as he loosely folded Monica's cardigan onto the matching vanity chair.

"...You know," John cleared his throat again, his hands fidgeting inside the pockets of his pressed trousers, "I don't want to embarrass you but if you wanted a room for you and your missus, all you had to do was ask me earlier"

"Sorry, I should've made sure Monica was pacing herself with the tipple" Freddie hesitantly apologised as he poured her a glass of water.

"No, I don't mean that, Fred," John straightened up a little, "I mean if you and Monica wanted to be alone"

"Oh god, he knows" he stiffened with his back to him, but pretended not to understand regardless, "Come again?"

John didn't hold back, and mocked what he heard only minutes before, "Oh god, Freddie, don't stop... oh god!!"

He felt his cheeks burn as the John's beady black eyes glowered back at him through the reflection, realising he'd been caught.

"...How many other people heard us?" Freddie faced him across the bedroom, staring at the ground.

"Quite a few, actually," John awkwardly backed out the door as he changed the subject, "By the way, unless you want to be splashed across tomorrow morning's front pages and questioned by police for manslaughter, water and alcohol are not a good combination"

Completely lost, Freddie shook his head at him in response, eyes narrowed in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

John urgently rolled his eyes in the direction of the en suite bathroom, then closed the bedroom door after himself, "Good night."

Finally, after ten seconds, it registered to Freddie that his nineteen-year old girlfriend was in a nearly-full bath tub, drunk and alone.

"Shit!" He knocked the glass over as he darted towards the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Monica was submerged in the inviting embrace of the vaccum of warm water with only her nose above the surface to aid her breathing, still clothed because she took Freddie's words a little too literally and plunged into the hot water, black dress and all...

"You should have baths after a long day more often" she thought to herself.

She didn't know whether or not it was the nausea, but her hands instinctively circled her lower abdomen where a pleasant glowing feeling that was too hard to ignore was lingering. She closed her eyes, her breath and heartbeat the only sound echoing in her ears as she absorbed the peaceful moment.

That was, until a shadow descended over her and a pair of large, frantic hands fished her out by the waist and interrupted her sacred time alone with a tremendous splash.

She spluttered and gasped for air, absolutely drenched, "Freddie?! What is going on-"

He smoothed her wet hair from her eyes, leaning over the edge of the tub as he spat, "Never do that again!"

"I'm fine!" Monica defended, pushing his hands away, "I was just-"

"No, you're not fine!" he snapped as he switched the taps off and snatched his discarded leather jacket off the floor, "Don't you realise that you could've just drowned yourself in the vulnerable state that you're in?!"

She could see that Freddie was visibly upset as he slammed the bathroom door and put his jacket on the handle, bracing herself as he paced back and forth.

"...Did something happen out there?" she timidly asked.

"Of course something happened out there! People heard us having sex!" he bit his tongue.

She asked again when he didn't answer, "Did you tell him that I threw up in the garden?"

"No, darling, it's fine..." he sighed and changed the subject, "Lift your arms up."

Trying to process his infuriation, Monica did as she was told, allowing him to unwrap her green sash and pull her black dress off and pull it up over her head, and soon enough she was exposed with nothing but the warmth of the bath water.

"I don't know where we will find you spare clothes for the morning" she heard Freddie ponder as she hugged her knees against her now bare chest.

Monica decided that, now that he sounded more collected, it was acceptable to try and make light of her situation, "Maybe I can borrow one of Elton's stage outfits"

He ignored the woozy beam on her face, hastily throwing the soggy black material into the sink, "Another excuse for me to take you clothes shopping... that chequered jacket of his was giving me an eyesore"

"But he loves shopping, so can he come as well?" she flirtatiously laid back in the water.

Freddie had a hard time trying not to gaze at her pale, bare body through the mirror above the sink as she seductively kicked a leg up above her in the air, her gold sandals still on her feet.

He purred, "I suppose it'll take anything to talk some sense into you, won't it?"

"But can Elton come shopping with us?" she persisted.

"Only if you're a good girl" He began unbuttoning his shirt more, trying not to succumb to her charms.

Monica sat up a little, "But I have been a good girl"

He hid his smirk at what sounded like such an irresistibly youthful energy at play, "You must be an exotic breed, then"

"And why do you say that?" she lurked behind in the tub, peeping over the edge.

"God, she looks like a mermaid when she does that" he contrived, but answered as he firmly gripped onto the sink, "Because I don't know any good girls that behaved the way that you did tonight"

Silence followed, and Monica tried her best to recall her actions within the previous hour or so.

Too afraid to make the tension worsen, she meekly apologised, "That girl you saw tonight... even I don't recognise her, not even from back home... I've never been like that girl before"

Now that they were back into stronger light, Freddie turned around and saw her hugging her bare arms tightly around herself, staring into space in remorse. Her face veiled behind her wet hair was crumpled up in anguish, blotchy with makeup and even missing an eyelash. She was in such a vulnerable, sorry state that he couldn't help but feel bad.

Flipping the toilet seat lid to sit down, he tried to make her feel better, "I can't say much myself. Not after that awful night at the Savoy over the summer"

"Oh yeah, when you were drunk and high at the same time," she shuddered at the memory slightly, "But still, that doesn't make it okay for me to be like that too"

"Monica..." he began.

"I know you're mad at me... your face and the tone of your voice tell all"

"And I shouldn't be mad at you, really. Before I met you that man you saw in the Savoy was me every single night. I was so bloody atrocious" he admittingly folded his hands together.

"I remember you telling me" she almost whispered, hands gripping the edge of the tub.

Knowing that her being in Freddie's life had impacted his choices and behaviours to a certain extent was a lot to take in when it came to commitment, but at this point she couldn't ever imagine leaving him. Even if her father did tell her that she was welcome back home she knew that she wouldn't return to open arms.

"And with Elton around, it's a good thing I didn't end up like that tonight either," he continued, "We can be such a bad influence on one another... so who am I to judge a young girl who's not even twenty yet, for crying out loud!"

"...Elton doesn't really like me. None of your friends like me, Freddie" she changed the subject as she stretched across to pick up the jar of bath salt on the corner rim of the tub.

"Well, you did try and steal the drink in his hand, dearie," he smiled a little bit, "Anyway, Elton does like you"

"I dunno, John does anyway... But you see all this-all this business talk about the industry?" she confessed, tripping over her words in her Belfast drawl, "I canney relate to what anyone was talking about"

"Is that why you felt pressured to drink so much? To get through the night?" he gently pressed.

"...Would you be even more mad at me if that was the case?" she scooped her hand across the surface, causing vaporous swirls of steam to emerge.

"Of course not. In fact, I was actually glad to get out of there," he playfully quipped, "Plus, Elton didn't have any cocaine on him this time... no wonder he was hiding on the staircase"

She lifted her head, "You mean, you weren't enjoying it?"

"Darling, the conversations down there bored the absolute arse off of me"

Monica's face fell slightly, "But you looked like you were content."

"Oh, that was only me adapting... like a chameleon."

"A chameleon?" she smirked, "And is that what you did out there on the day bed?"

"Perhaps" he watched her sat hunched over as she tried to undo the buckle of her gold sandals still on her feet.

"Aaah, ow! Why must fashion always defeat the purpose?" She complained, for they were digging into the back of her ankles.

"Let me help with those," Freddie got back onto his knees, "No wonder you were limping everywhere"

"Thanks..." she propped her blistering feet onto the edge of the tub for him.

"Any excuse to get my hands on these marvellous legs" he suddenly caressed her bare wet calves as he kissed her knees.

She fell into another fit of giggles, trying to splash him away, "Freddie, don't!" 

He hugged her lower legs swung over the edge of the tub and rested his chin on her knees, a gleam in his magnetic brown eyes as his teeth protruded through those kissable lips. He didn't look so fearful anymore, just playful.

She instinctively slipped her wet hands through his feathery raven hair, smoothing her fingers on his scalp, "I love you so"

He shuffled closer to her as he cooed, "Promise me you will never try to have a bath alone in this state again... "

"But I like it when you look after me" Monica leaned into him at an angle, and he closed his eyes and kissed her.

"I love you too." he finally said when they broke, then pecked her nose, "My god, I thought I was going to have a death on my hands"

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again" Monica murmured, letting gravity pull her back down in the water.

"Good," he kissed the side of her head, then started unzipping his trousers, "Now, scoot up"

"What, why?"

"Darling, you can barely support yourself" he nagged gently.

"Alright then" Monica shuffled to the plug hole end and watched his distorted reflection in one of the metal taps as he undressed behind her, looking away when he was nearly fully exposed. Then Freddie tugged the light cord and the room was dimmed with just the 3D panel behind the mirror above the sink for visibility.

The water levels rose around her as he stepped into the tub, and she heard him instruct, "Lie back gently... not too fast"

She reversed herself between his legs until she fell against his chest, "Why are you looking after me?"

He kissed her shoulder, "Isn't that what I said I'd do?"

"Mmhmm..." she momentarily answered, closing her eyes.

Her stomach was still woozy and her body still wanted her to lie down flat, but not as severely as before. It was then she started imagining what would've happened if she hadn't stayed in London and had gone back to Belfast. Would she still have gone to university or would she have taken a year out to live at home? Would her fears of sitting alone in a campus room at night and not having a social life have come true? Would she even be recieving valentines cards from secret admirers, one of them be another of Paula's pranks that she'd pulled every year since they became friends? Would she still have been working in the same cafe near her house or elsewhere?

"But fate is a funny thing... I wouldn't swap all this for anything else" she told herself, feeling safe in the arms of a rockstar caged around her.

She felt Freddie resting his chin on her shoulder as he hugged her wet mass close to him, keeping her afloat as he asked, "So... what was that song that you heard earlier?"

"Hmmm?" she grunted again, opening one eye.

"The Frank and Nancy Sinatra one... you said it reminded you of me"

"...Such a narcissist" she smiled to herself.

Freddie smirked and gently nibbled her earlobe with his teeth.

"Aaaahhhowww!" she whined.

"Tell me!" he persisted.

She sighed and closed her eyes again, "It was Something Stupid!"

"Darling, I will bite your fucking ear off if you don't tell-"

"No, Something Stupid... that's the name of it" she craned her head away from him slightly.

"Oh... yes, I know the one now," he trailed off as he realised, "That would've come out when I was in art school."

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

She lazily stared to hum the tune, knowing that her shaky voice was no match for his strong control and velvety timbre. She also couldn't even remember the words in the correct order.

But Freddie was there to sing them, "I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me... And if we go some place to dance I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me"

Now that John asked for the music from his party below to be turned down it was reduced to indistinguishable and inconsintent thumps of the beat, and it was easy to get lost in his voice.

He must've skipped several verses, but he kept on singing, "The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue... And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you..."

Despite her spinning head and her queasiness, the hum of his voice repeating those last three little words in her ear was the last thing Monica remembered as Freddie's embrace and the warmth of the water lulled her to sleep that night...

*****

A whirring sound woke Monica up from her dream-like memory, snapping her back into the present.

Her eyes snapped open in alarm as a crack of light slid across the Queen size bed that she was sprawled out on, widening as the slider doors to the master bedroom opened. At first she thought it was just one of the cats wedging their way in with their paw until there was a gap narrow enough for them to slip through. But something bigger than a cat was blocking the light.

She lifted her head from the cotton pillow as a short silhouette with a bowl-shaped head quickly toddled in, then paused a few feet in.

She squinted a little, then reached over to switch the lamp on as she croaked, "Johnny?"

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he approached her bed, dressed in his Spider-Man shirt and primary-coloured pyjama shorts, "I can't sleep with Roshni's nightlight on"

"But you know she will get nightmares with it otherwise" she sat up a little, ready to take him back into his room.

"But I can't sleep, mummy," Johnny repeated, this time more desperately, "Please can I sleep here?"

Valuing her sleep, Monica hesitated.

She lifted the duvet invitingly, "Slide those doors closed"

Johnny obeyed and quickly crept back to the entrance to do so.

"But he was in a bad mood with me a few hours ago" Monica thought.

He climbed onto the mattress and settled underneath the blankets, into his mother's open arms.

She started tucking the duvet back around him, then reached over to switch the lamp off, plunging the bedroom back into darkness.

"Just close your eyes and think of something that makes you happy" she whispered.

As he made an effort to get comfortable, she held him close against her chest as the back of her hand caressed his soft brown hair on his head slowly.

She took her time to absorb the sweet moment, for she never got to give either of them much affection nowadays, nor half the time would they let her.

She didn't even have her eyes closed for ten seconds when he quietly asked, "Why does Roshni have to have that light on?"

"You know she doesn't like being alone in the dark anymore," she explained, "Not since what happened at your old school"

"But she's not alone in there... she's got me and her teddy," he listed off, "And you even let Goliath in there too"

"Just think of all the things at night time that scare you, Johnny" she tried to make him understand his sister's trauma.

"Oh, that's easy. The moon always follows me outside the window" he innocently answered.

Monica gently chuckled, "No, it isn't. It looks like it's following us because it's really far away"

"...Like daddy and Feebs?"

"No, further than they are," she pressed her lips to his crown, "When I was your age I used to think that the moon followed me around as well."

He lay still and imagined such a distance, his fingers tracing up and down his mother's bare arms.

"It's not fair. Why does he have to go on tour all the time?" he muttered.

She was used to the two of them asking the same thing, "Because of his job."

"Is that why you and daddy are not married? Or had a baby?"

"Not married yet," she corrected him, "And we're going to discuss having a baby more when he gets home"

She felt his small fingers playing with her left hand as they tried to find the silver diamond on her finger.

"... What will come first? The baby or the wedding?" He fiddled with her engagement ring.

She stared at the ceiling, "Hard to say. But hopefully things will start to get much more settled and then you and I will know."

"The wedding better not be any time soon" he said.

"Why's that?!" She felt her heart break a little.

But Johnny's reasoning was childish, "Because I don't want to wear my good clothes."

"Then if you don't wear your good clothes, there shall be no wedding cake for you, young man" she smirked in the dark.

"That's not fair!" He exclaimed, "They're itchy!"

"Daddy's going to buy you a new one... You'll be a little bigger by the time we tie the knot anyway."

"Tie a knot with what? Your tongues? Yuck."

She giggled gently, "It's just a way of saying that we're getting married, sweetheart"

"Oh... I'm going to look away at that bit anyway" he declared.

"You're lucky to have a mummy and daddy that let you get away with such things" she rubbed soothing circles into his back.

She lifted her head from her pillow a little and watched Johnny's eyelids gradually grow heavier and heavier until they couldn't stay open any longer, "He looks just like Freddie from this angle with those long, thick lashes"

She thought that she successfully managed to get him to sleep, until she heard him snortling and felt his dampening face stain her night gown.

"Johnny, love..." she sat up gently in concern and switched the lamp back on, "What's wrong?"

She knew well that her son only ever cried out of fright, or if he ever got hurt.

"I didn't mean what I said at Tesco earlier" he lifted his tear-stained face from her chest.

"Oh sweetheart, I know you didn't" she held him close to her again.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings" he spoke into her shoulder.

"It's okay... I forgive you" she shushed him gently.

His trembling lessened as he curled up in Monica's lap, until his sobs were reduced to quiet snivels.

"You're a big softie like your daddy, you know that?" she whispered, smiling to herself.

She heard him whine and mumble something indistinguishable.

"Feeling better?" she asked as she tucked a brown strand of hair behind his ear, presuming that he was missing Freddie and Phoebe.

Johnny hesitated as he stared into space, then shook his head, "I lied to you. It isn't Roshni's night light keeping me awake... it's those children. I want to forget about them but I can't."

"What children?" She asked, "I hope you don't mean the children from your old school"

"No mum, the hungry children... in Africa," He wiped his eyes with the ball of his hand as he bagan, "In assembly on friday morning, our head teacher was showing us videos of them from the BBC"

"From the famine in Ethiopia?" she patiently asked, reaching over for the box of Kleenex tissues propped up on the headboard above Freddie's side of the bed.

He nodded, and reflected, "Those children... they were like dark skeletons. They had big heads and their ribs were sticking out... I still hear the women crying for their dying children, and children and babies crying for their dead mothers... "

Monica knew it too well. She like many others had those distressing images on the television screen embedded in her memory, and how frightening they must've been to a young child. Nonetheless, she didn't blame their headteacher for showing it to them for their voices needed to be heard.

"So you can't sleep because you can't stop thinking about the hungry African children?" she pat his cheeks dry gently.

Johnny's voice started quivering as he nodded, "And-And then I remembered the bad things I said to you today and I feel bad and now I can't get to sleep... I don't want you to die, mummy"

"Oh, my poor boy... that's not going to happen for a long, long time" she heard herself coo as she held him tighter.

"Promise?" he snivelled.

She rocked him in her arms gently, unable to guarantee such a thing, "Don't think about such a thing"

"Who's going to take care of me and Roshni if you die?" his dark, red eyes looked up at her.

"That'll be daddy and Phoebe, or maybe Granny Jer and-anyway, Johnny, I am not going to die, alright?!" Monica smoothed his bangs out of the way to kiss his forehead.

He continued in the safety and comfort of his mother's embrace, "They were all living inside lots and lots of white tents as well. And then the head teacher told us that we were all lucky to live in nice houses with food on our plate..."

The way his voice cracked at the end broke Monica's heart, but at least she had an answer as to why Johnny was being so grouchy.

"Your head teacher is right. You are both very, very lucky children... luckier than daddy and I were actually" she reminded him.

He looked up, crying now stopped, "I just wish that there was a way to help all those people"

It was then that Monica had thought of some form of consolation.

She knew that it'd probably make Freddie mad if she had gotten their son's hopes up, for he and Queen had not made their minds up yet and no line-up had actually been confirmed, but at least the promise of the upcoming Live Aid concert would send him to sleep happy.

"You know that christmas song released by Band Aid?" She softly asked.

Johnny sulkily nodded against her side.

"The man who wrote it is organising a concert to raise more money for all those hungry people in Africa," she went on, "and he's the same man called Bob that won't stop telephoning daddy"

"He is?" his eyes lit up.

She nodded, "Bob keeps ringing daddy becuase he wants him and the band to perform in it"

"Then why won't daddy say yes to him!?" Johnny sprung up onto his knees eagrely.

"Well... grown-ups have very complicated feelings, but it's because he's afraid"

"Afraid of what? Grown ups don't get scared" he uttered.

"Oh yes we do! And daddy's been feeling very scared of what other people will think of him"

"But he's amazing on stage"

She laughed gently, "Of course he is... but lately he and the boys have been feeling as though not enough people love listening to Queen anymore, and it makes them feel scared... and perhaps even shy and sad"

"But, I don't care what other people think. He's the best piano player and singer ever!" Johnny exaggerated as he reached over to Monica's Motorola on her table, "Can't we just call him now and tell him to say yes-"

She caught his arm, "Not now love. It's a different time in Japan, he's probably performing right this minute.

"But mummy, if he plays at that man Bob's concert then he will still be trying to feed those hungry people" he pleaded.

"I will telephone daddy tomorrow" she sighed and switched the lamp off.

"But if he says no, then how else will their hunger end?" he pouted.

"I don't know yet, sweetheart," she answered with difficulty, "But whatever daddy and the boys decides is out of our hands and there's not really anything that we can do."

Johnny rubbed his eyes and yawned, "Well, I hope daddy will say yes then"

She giggled, then admitted, "You know, when I called you an ungrateful brat earlier today? I didn't really mean it"

But her son was surprisingly forgiving, "I know you didn't. Daddy calls us brats all the time anyway"

She chuckled lightly, "Well then... what have you learnt about climbing onto the backs of trolleys in a busy car park?"

"That it's fun!" He declared proudly.

She smirked a little, having another eureka moments, "Actually, there is one way that you and your sister can help feed those children in Africa, but I will have to talk to daddy about that as well tomorrow"

"What? Tell me!" he eagrely shook her arm.

"Well... how about we half you and Roshni's weekly pocket money for the next month?" she offered.

"Half our pocket money?! No!" he raised his voice in protest.

"But since daddy can't make up his mind then you'll be helping stop the hunger, and Roshni too"

She heard nothing but the air conditioning and London traffic outside the window as Johnny paused in thought.

"Do you promise that our pocket money will go to Africa?" he tested.

She nodded, "Every last penny.. into a piggy bank especially for the fund."

"Alright then, deal," she felt him shake her hand in the dark, "But now I am going to have to choose between Apple Whips and Flying Saucers at the school tuck shop"

"What on earth are those?!"

"They're the best sweets ever!" he answered jollily.

"They're sweets? We never had those in my day"

"That's because you're old"

"I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed.

Johnny impishly giggled, "Don't worry, your face hasn't gotten wrinkly yet mummy"

"I almost forgot. Daddy wanted me to give something to you" she said, remembering Freddie's phonecall earlier.

"Really? What is it?" Johnny lifted his head again.

"This!" With a smirk in the dark, Monica suddenly rolled over and coddled the squealing boy tightly as she kissed him on the cheek repeatedly.

"Euuughhhh! Mummy?! No-s-stop!!" Johnny wailed in repulsion as he thrashed and squirmed in her arms, but wouldn't admit that he liked it.

"It's not from me, it's hugs and kisses from daddy" she reminded him, laughing.

Johnny groaned and settled back down, cheeks still burning red.

She pulled him close again and stretched to switch the lamp off, "You'll always be my baby boy"

He didn't say anything, just lay there still with his cheek pressed against the warmth of her bosom as he closed his eyes.

As he drifted to sleep with a subtle smile back on his face, Monica reflected about how she hadn't had a bitter-ended day after all. She saw a tormentor get what she deserved, and her and her son made amends.

Her last words for the day escaped her lips, "Must be the luck of the irish"

But now she had a bigger burden ahead of her, for she had to try and convince Freddie to do Live Aid for their son's sake, but more importantly the world's...