Summer Of '75 (Roger Taylor/Queen)

Chapter 13

Amelia's P.O.V.

I hadn't mentioned anything about what Freddie had told me the other day to Roger. I was rather surprised that he'd shared that information about him with me in the first place. But I understood why Freddie had told me. He said that he saw something different developing between Roger and I, and being Roger's bandmate and one of his closest friends, I trusted his word. He wouldn't have said anything if he hadn't been sincere about it.

When Freddie mentioned that Roger had never been in a long lasting relationship with anyone, I understood what that felt like. None of the boyfriends I'd ever had hung around for long either, so I could relate to seeing everyone around me happy with someone and me being on my own. But what really kept playing in my mind was what Freddie had said in relation to how Roger felt about me. He apparently treated me differently to any of the others girls he'd gotten together with before. So could it be true? Did Roger actually like me?

But yet my stubbornness still stood in the way. That couldn't be the case, Roger probably acted this way around all the girls. He was the ladies-man of the group after all, how could I possibly believe that his feelings were sincere? But he didn't act this way around other women, according to Freddie. The Roger I'd gotten to know was different to what anyone else had seen. And he was an absolute sweetheart to me, I felt bad for having these doubts about him. Maybe he was being genuine and I was just being a pig-headed bitch? I didn't know for sure.

The whole situation had minced up head to the point where it was affecting my organisation skills at work, and I'd picked absolutely the worse day to do it. The cafe was bustling, orders were coming and going faster than I could keep up with which inevitably lead to orders being mixed up, forgetting things and Dorothy having a go at me every time I did something wrong. Charlotte had to swoop in and save my ass several times, and each time she did she'd tease me afterwards with a smirk on her face saying;

'Stop thinking about him, maybe then you'll be able to concentrate.'

Every time she made a remark, I would shoot daggers at her but would have to look away straight after so she wouldn't notice how red faced I was. I was glad to get out of there at the end of the day, I didn't think I could take the embarrassment much more. When I got home, I spent the rest of the day outside - now that the weather had picked up - mainly at the stables checking up on the newborn foal one of our mares gave birth to the other night, and because it was anemic, I was keeping an extra close eye on it. Being a veterinary nurse does have its uses, I suppose.

Anyway, after a long days work I eventually decided to return to the house when the sun had almost completely disappeared over the horizon. I made my way back slowly, exhausted from today's events, and was about to walk to the front door when something caught my eye. I turned my head to notice that a light was still on in the barn. Strange. I was certain the band would have stopped working and gone inside or went down to the pub by now. The possibility that it could have been left on popped into my head, so I decided to go and check it out nonetheless.

I made my way to the barn but stopped outside the large wooden doors before heading in. One of them was slightly ajar, which normally should be locked at this time of night. Cautiously pushing it open, I stepped inside and walking tentatively into the recording area of the studio. Looking around, there was no one to be seen. All that was present in the room were the instruments we had in here scattered around the place; the piano, the guitars, basses as well as equipment like speakers, microphones etc. One of the guitars in particular stood out at me which I know for a fact wasn't one of ours. It was a mahogany-red colour, with a black pickguard and neck which stood up proudly on a stand at the right side of the room. I walked towards it and looked at it more closely, noticing parts of it had been made from everyday items you would find around the house. I soon gathered that this was Brian's guitar, the one I'd been hearing coming from the barn over these last few weeks. I was impressed that such a unique guitar, homemade and all, could make such a brilliant sound.