- Did you sleep like a baby at the end? -Freddie asked me a few hours later.
There was nothing wrong with the question except the whole band surrounded us. It was the first day since I arrived that he spoke to me and the rest seemed very satisfied. I, in turn, almost burned myself with the skimmer taking out the beicon from the frying pan. Breakfast at 3 p.m., another ordinary day at Ridge Farm.
- Do you have troubles to get some sleep, doll? -Roger wanted to know with his little grin-. If you had taken my advice, you would sleep where you should be and everything would be all right.
- No way, it's this blessed heat wave -I threw a killing glance to Freddie who of course, was caught up by each one of them.
- The forecast says tomorrow we'll get 35 degrees -Brian announced sticking the fork in the sausage.
- All right, well I'm ending up sleeping with the cows in the field -John said-. My room is a fucking stove.
- Darling, you haven't told me yet how you got to sleep like a baby. I'm waiting -Freddie insisted with his mood whimsically playful that day.
- How about you, Freddie Mercury? Would you confirm me if I let yourself express freely or not?
Freddie was caught up with my question but in two seconds he pretended he was alright with his shameless smile.
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- What's up here? -John wanted to know-. Do you have something to tell us?
- There's nothing to say, Deaky. Well yes, miss Polley didn't take my advice and she couldn't sleep a wink. Stubborn and masochistic, darling. That's what you are -he pointed me with the fork in an accusing voice.
Freddie had again won me over because I flushed. I was self-absorbed at the stove to avoid his gaze.
- Hey, here smells marvellous. Who is able to use a frying pan without burning the building down?
That voice which had just spoken made my hair stood on end. I knew the Irish accent, his high pitched tone. It couldn't be him.
- Good morning, Paul.
Paul Prenter had just passed through that sliding door and the blood went out momentarily from my face. All the harmony of this day was in danger.
- We introduce you our cook, Elideth Polley. He's Paul Prenter, our personal assistant -Brian offered himself as master of ceremonies.
I know quite well who that louse is. In fact we know each other or rather will meet each other. His same half-hearted shaking hands, that flaccid and unpleasant hand. And those blue and searching eyes. I invited him a dish of beicon, sausages and eggs because I was a polite girl but my wish was throwing the hot oil at his crotch.
- A cook in your entourage. Do you think it's a good idea? With whom is she sleeping?
- With everyone. Do you want her fixing your damages, Paul? -Freddie joked wrapping around his waist with his loving arms.
