Every time you make a move

Flashback filler 3-Monica's arrival

Hey all,

this was initially going to be part of the next update when Fred and Monica were reminiscing. But naturally it led onto something else which is is too long and deserves its own time, as you will read ;)

Enjoy!

(P.S. I hope you will like the illustration I left at the end, seeing as I thought it'd be appropriate)

Outside Hotel Montana, London

"How far away did you say your house was, Freddie?" Monica asked and the taxi driver packed her luggage into the trunk.

"Oh just a few blocks away... mind you, judging by the traffic it'll be several minutes by car." He opened the door for her and helped her step in.

"Where to, folks?" The driver asked.

"Stafford terrace please," Freddie strapped himself in. "Number 12."

When the cab started to move Monica nervously looked out the taxi window at the streets with Victorian flats passing by, "Honestly I feel awfully out of place right now."

Freddie giggled at her side, squeezing her hand, "my dear, for someone who was bundled onto a jet from a small island in Africa to London I cannot blame you.'

She turned to him, cocking a brow curiously.

"Oh... I was born in Zanzibar. It's off the coast of Tanzania" he explained, and she propped herself up on her elbow against the car door and listened.. "...an uprising occurred and my family had to flee when I was 18... I've actually only been living in London for more than fourteen years now."

"Had you ever been to London before then?"

He shook his head, "no...I went to school in India, because that's where my family is from... just commuted between Africa and India really."

She lifted her head, "you're Indian?"

He shrugged, "not really, perhaps a little. I'm actually Persian, or Parsi. My ancestors came from Iran initially... but I suppose, like the Tanzanians did to me, my people were shoved around and pushed out of their home by conquering invaders who tried to get them to follow Islam."

"You're an immigrant... wow. That's world's away from where you are now," She was astonished. "Don't get me wrong, it's fascinating."

"I'm sure your story is too. Go on, tell me." He pressed.

She blushed and shook her head.

"Go on." He jabbed her in the arm.

"Alright! Ok, I was born in Belfast, no surprise there." She laughed, pushing his hands away. "I have a grown older sister and a younger brother. I'm the middle child. I'm used to attention being divided unfairly from my parents. I'm from an Irish family who lives in a predominantly unionist area. I went to a Protestant school, got teased a lot for it."

"What do your parents do, if they don't give you much attention?" He asked.

"My dad works in trade for a wholesale business, which is going slightly bust, so he and his colleagues are planning to go independent and establish their own. And my mum is a housewife, but since my brother and I got a little older she has found time and ways to bring more money in... they don't like me going into creativity because they don't know how it's going to bring in the money."

"When I moved here my parents put so much pressure on me to get employed. My mum's working in M&S now, and my dad moved through a few bookshops until he got to a firm. But before we used to have help in the household. My dad had a high-end bureaucratic job in the British registration offices. As for my mum, she ran our staff around our apartment."