Stories of Rockfield (Roger Taylor)

Chapter Four

The next morning, I wake up to a dipping feeling at the end of my bed. With a groan, I reach down, simply assuming that Watson managed to get in and is now asleep at my feet again. My original thought is diminished when instead of fur, I feel bare skin. Opening my eyes, I prop myself up on my elbows and look at Flora confused.

"We need to have a talk." She states. "I made you a cup of tea."

"Has someone died or something?"

"No." She chuckles. "Listen, I was still awake when you came home last night and I couldn't help but notice that you came home with Roger. I must admit, Roger is a handsome lad, but that doesn't change anything. You've only known the boy a week, Deborah. Just think about-"

"I know exactly what you're going to say, Flo, but Roger and I are just friends. That's it."

"I'm sorry, honey, it was just awful seeing you in that state."

"I know. Thank you for the concern, but there's really no need. I can take care of myself."

With a sympathetic smile, Flora wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head comfortingly. For a few moments, I sit contently in the arms of the only motherly figure in my life. Although we're not blood relatives, Flora and Kenneth are the closest thing I have to family. I'm like the daughter they never had, and they're like the parents I wish I had. That balance is the one thing that makes this work.

Our moment is interrupted when Kenneth screams in pain, probably having burnt himself on the oven again. Flora rolls her eyes jokingly as she gets up and leaves me on my own to sit and think about what she said.

Of course, I know that things with Andrew ended less than perfectly and I know that the whole thing drastically fucked up my life. I can't say the same for him. He's probably married by now, happily living in the house we always said we'd live in. Everything was so great for us, it really was. We had our whole future planned out; we'd have two kids -one boy, one girl-, a family dog called Spot, and the perfect house at the end of the road we used to live on. Being shipped off to live on a farm was never on our list. For that, and many other things, I could never forgive my parents.

With the sudden realisation that I have work to do, I get up and rush to get washed and dressed so I don't lose any time. I'm meeting David and Louise for lunch so I need to get as much done around the farm as possible before I go. In the next two hours, I have to walk the dog, collect the eggs and then restock the food for the boys in the studio.

As I'm attaching the lead to Watson's collar, I shove my feet into a pair of boots so my nice shoes don't get wrecked in the woods. Everything is in full motion by the time I get outside which is quite nice. The other workers on the farm have been keeping their distance for the first few days so that the band have a chance to get settled, but now that it's been nearly a week, everything is returning back to normal.

"Debbie!" I stop in my tracks as Brian calls my name. "I just wanted to say thank you for looking after Roger last night."

"Yeah, he was in a bit of a state. How is he this morning?"

"Still in bed. We're just going to leave him there until we need him later on."

"That's very nice of you."

"I think we probably owe it to him after we laughed at his song. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Enjoy your walk." Brian gives Watson a quick pat on the head before disappearing into the studio where I'm presuming John and Freddie already are.

Instead of wasting time by taking the dog down the complicated route, I decide to just take him on a lap around the farm and then let him off in one of the fields for five or ten minutes. While Watson is running about, I collect the eggs from the chicken pen and pass the basket on to Flora as I pass her. My last task of the day is to restock the food in the studio which means driving into town and back. It should only take about half an hour but it also means I have to make two trips into town today.