𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑| 𝑅𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 ✔

LXXIV

April, 1976

I was feeling a sharp pain in my lower abdomen, I thought it was just a kick, since I've been getting them more frequently, but this one felt different, I knew from the last time that this wasn't a kick.
I looked down to see a puddle on the wooden floor. No no no no no. Not yet!
Roger was still on tour and wasn't to be back until after 11 tonight and it was 7 now!

I tried dialing the number that Roger gave me for backstage, and after a few dials someone answered.

"Hello?" I heard the irritating Irish voice on the other line, but right now I didn't care I just needed to let Roger know.

"Paul. Is Roger there?" I asked, trying to keep my voice sounding calm, but it was strained.

"Alice." he said my name with irritation, and groaned. "No. I'm sorry pet, he's on stage right now" he said with a fake apologetic tone.

I sighed, clutching onto my stomach in pain. "Okay, when do they get off?" I asked, trying my best to stay calm.

"They've got another hour of performance. Can I hang up now? Or are you gonna keep up your yapping?" he asked, boredom lacing his voice.

"Can you just tell Roger to call me when he gets off stage? Please?" I asked, finished wasting my time talking to the useless Irish man.

"Fine. Bye bye!" he said, hanging up. Prick.

I grabbed my car keys, and walked into the garden to pick up Priscilla, driving over to Ashley's house, since I knew Vicky and Fate were also there.

I'd spent the day, trying to tidy the house for Roger coming back, but now there was a change of plans.

⚜︎

"Alice! Are you okay?" Ashleys voice changed from joyful to concern, as she let me in.

"No. I can't get a hold of Roger, he's on stage and I think I'm in labour" I summarized, attempting to sit on the couch.

"I'll try calling him" Ashley said, walking over to the telephone. "What's the number?" she questioned. I told her the number and she dialed it in.

"How did you know he was on stage?" Fate asked, as she rubbed my shoulder, comfortingly.

"Paul answered and he told me" I explained, attempting and failing to think of something other than the pain.

"I hate that bastard" Vicky scoffed.

"Me as well" Fate rolled her eyes, prompting me to chuckle lightly at them both.

"Is Roger off stage yet?" I heard Ashley ask. "Well, tell him to get his arse off stage! His girlfriend is having his kid!" Ashley snarled.

Vicky stood up and walked over to the telephone holding out her hand, gesturing for Ashley to give her the phone, which she did.

"Paul. Get Roger off that stage now!" Vicky demanded.
"I couldn't give a shit about the show, it's one show, not the end of the world now get that blonde drummer on this phone you can survive without a drummer for 10 minutes, no one will know the difference" she rolled her eyes. "Who the fuck are you talking to? I'll fly over to that concert and knock you out. Fucking prick" Vicky said, defensively.

Vicky came back, bringing the telephone with her and handing it to me. I heard nothing but the loud roars of the crowd and the music playing, then finally Roger panting and bombarding me with questions. "Alice! Are you okay? I'll be over as soon as possible!" Roger panicked, stressed.

"Roger you're on tour! How are you supposed to get here in time?!" I asked, panicking as well.

"I'll book an earlier flight. They can manage without a drummer for one show" he said, his voice still slightly panicked, but I could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

⚜︎

A couple of hours in pain, Ashley finally decided it was best to go to the hospital an wait for Roger there.

I was praying that Roger would make it to the hospital in time, but I was beginning to doubt it.

⚜︎

I was lying in the hospital bed, feeling tired and like I could pass out any moment, until finally, Roger barged through the doors, slightly dramatically. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?" he questioned, as I smiled up a him.

"I'm just glad you made it in time" I whispered, as he smiled, holding my hand, kissing my knuckles, and murmuring reassurance to me.

Many, many hours passed, and I looked down to see my daughter, attached to my arms. Anastasia Grace Taylor, was the name we chosen 2 months ago, when we found out the gender.

Roger looked down at our daughter with admiration, and in awe, from beside me, as he gently stroked her face with his fingers.

I handed her gently over to him, and watched as he held her, carefully, looking down at her with love.

He kissed my cheek, as I tiredly leaned back on the hospital bed.