Hello

She's A Little Runaway

I held my brother in my arms and resisted letting him go.

"Welcome to my country!" I laughed, jumping up and down in his arms. I stepped out of our embrace and looked, properly looked, at my only sibling. We looked similar yet very different. We shared the square, strong jaw and big mouth, but Thomas' eyes were a glittering green and his hair was as smooth as silk, mirroring a Roger Daltrey 1965 look.

"Looks like Brian and Chrissie worked some magic, hey?" I laughed, letting him go and spinning around slowly.

"And me with my girlfriend and Bomma Cassa, right?" He raised his palms as if to say what do you think?

"You definitely look different than when you were eleven. Let's grab bag and get out of here." I said excitedly, leading him towards the check-on luggage belt. When we got to the car, Thomas nearly passed out.

"Really? A Mercedes?!" He yelled, eyes wide in fascination.

"It's the husabnds. Mine's a 1979 BMW 635csi. My next one's going to be a Cadillac Fleetwood." I unlocked the doors and sat down in the driver's seat, doing up my seatbelt. Thomas joined me slowly, taking in the midnight blue car and it's white wall tires that I insisted both cars have.

"God, if this is the car, I can only imagine what the house looks like."

"Well, you know the drummer from Queen?"

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"I'll have to come and meet him before I leave. I'm staying with mum and da while I'm here." Thomas announced. I stopped dead in my tracks and froze midway through turning the ignition.

"You can't. Angela passed away last year of a drug overdose and Terrence did a runner because it was his fault." I whispered. Thomas turned and looked at me like I was crazy.

"I... I didn't know." He seemed on the verge of tears so I play-punched him on the arm, apparently harder than expected.

"I've got a spare room. You've always got a place to stay."

He floated above the bed as he sat. Thomas, built the opposite of me, weighed close to nothing and had the body of the stereotypical nerd.

"I'm sorry the blankets are pink. My best friend stays here a lot. It's basically her bedroom. The other guys that stay over don't really mind it." I explained, standing in the doorway of the room. Thomas looked up with a wide grin and thanked me. I said my goodnight and went to my own bedroom.

Roger was asleep in his underwear with the covers draped over his legs, his arms spread across the matress. I stripped down to my underwear and joined him, assuming the position of big spoon for the night.

"My princess returns." Roger whispered, feeling my body press against his back

"How do you know it's me? I could be John Deacon."

"John Deacon hasn't got breasts like that, does he?" He laughed, falling back asleep. I joined him and dozed off, only to be awoken a few hours later by Roger yelling. I heard a commotion outside the room and hurled myself forward. I stood in the doorway, frozen in time. It took me a few seconds to process that I hadn't told Roger that Thomas was staying here and that he had mistaken him for an intruder. It also didn't register in my mind that he would also see me as the same threat in the dark. I said nothing as I grabbed his hands from behind: a tactic I used to use with Terrence. Roger used his back to slam me into the wall. I made the sound of a wounded animal and my backbone and skull collided with plaster and paint. In a flash of motion, he was facing me with a hand on each shoulder, ready to punch.

"Roger no!" I yelled and he instantly froze.

"It's me. Don't hurt me." My voice lulled to a whisper and he let go. He stepped back and started breathing fast, completely in shock.

"Oh god. Lucy. Oh god. What are you doing?" He stuttered, falling against the wall across from me. He stopped noticing Thomas in the same room. That was easy to do when you had almost accidentally belted someone you couldn't bear to hurt.

I should have seen this as the start of our relationship falling apart. Thomas left the next morning to go back to Scotland before I had a chance to wake up. For the months leading up to the Hot Space Tour start, Roger and I didn't have sex and only kissed when I wanted it. It made me feel like I deserved it even more.

_________\\________
I'm sorry the last chapter of this story has to end way. But when you write about your life, you can't shy away from the rough patches. The heartbreaks are real and they are just as strong as the sewing together of said internal organ. You can't have one without the other.

The zipper of my leather jacket was so loud it startled me. I turned to the bedroom doorway in case anyone had appeared to stop me; to tell me it wasn't a dream.

"Dada?" Henry asked as I lifted him out of bed. I had never woken my son up at 1AM, but then again his father had never done this to me.

"No, baby. Dad's not coming. It's just us for a while." I whispered, wrapping a blanket around him and slinging the backpack over my shoulder. The house was light, curtains left unopened in a flurry of arguments and cold shoulders. My hair bounced as I rushed from Henry's bedroom to the front door. I grabbed my keys from the hook and took one last look at the interior of the house. I felt an ache grab in my chest as I forced myself to walk away.

Too tired to care, Henry sat in silence as I strapped him into his car seat and we took off slowly. I turned the headlights on once out on the road and rolled quietly to the end of the road. I looked back one last time, letting silent tears drip like water down my cheeks. The house was a sleeping cottage, but had felt like a thorny prison since I found out. I turned right and followed the signs out of Truro.

I didn't know where we were going to go. I couldn't stay with Vivienne or any of the other Queen men. They would be the first places anyone would look at. I pulled over next to a tree and left the park lights on. If it had been only me in the car, I would have reversed down that road and slammed myself into that tree. But I also knew what it was like to grow up without a mother present in your life.

How could everything go wrong in such a short amount of time? It felt like only minutes since he had walked through our front door and picked Henry up after 2 months away. He had marvelled at how his son had grown and cuddled him like nothing else in the universe existed. He had taken me into his other arm and kissed me like it had been centuries. How did that turn to this?

It had started with John Deacon.

I had never been one to listen through doors. They were closed for a reason and I understood that. But something about an argument between John and Roger had spiked my interest.

"If you don't tell her, I will."

"No you won't. She's my wife. I'll tell her when I'm ready." Roger retorted from behind the kitchen door. I put down my basket of washing and leant against the wood, listening.

"Roger, Lucy is the most beautiful and amazing woman I've ever met. How dare you hide this from her. You're just as bad as the men in her life that belted her and belittled her."

"How dare you compare me to them!"

"How dare you not tell her that you slept with ten different women on tour!"

I gasped for air and covered my mouth. I was choking on nothing.

That led me here, sitting on the side of the road in my car, my sleeping son in the back seat. Half a tank of fuel, £1,000 pounds I'd hidden away in the trunk for emergencies, and a road map were my only possessions now.