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C H A P T E R T H I R T Y

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olivia's point of view

I had returned to work not long after we had returned from America. Because we had the miscarriage right towards the end of the tour, then Brian became significantly sick not long after I was discharged from hospital, we soon found ourselves back there looking out for and supporting Brian and Chrissie.

Hence, flights home were pushed back a week.

At the time, I didn't think I could stand being in a hospital every single day after both traumatic visits I've had at the hospital in recent years, throwing it back about three and a half after being abused and then being in hospital with constant vomiting and fever after the miscarriage was the worst.

Even worse, Roger couldn't be there for me the whole time I was in there. Sure, the concert that was supposed to take place the day of when the miscarriage happened was postponed, a few days break after they were back on stage playing two shows they were expected to make up. Their last two shows, and then we were therefore stuck in that same American State after I got discharged and the hospital was open and welcome for poor Brian who was diagnosed with Hepatitis C.

Flying home, the air was filed with toxic exhaustion from being on a whirlwind of a tour for four months for the boys, and two months for us ladies. The attitude in the air was high, not the same bubbly and fun attitude we all would've had on the seperate flights over, but we sure were excited to finally lie down in our own bed once we arrived home.

Yet, after arriving home and some much needed time to relax and grieve for our never to be born son Bailey, I was due to start back at work, as was Roger. He and the boys left for three months down to Wales to record their next album, A Night at the Opera at Rockfield Farms. But in true fashion, the boys were gone a month longer than scheduled, so every day, whoever wasn't working out of myself, Chrissie and Mary would head over to Veronica's with a chance of running into each other to look after her as she came incredibly close to beginning to head into labour.

Veronica dismissed us every time, telling us not to worry so much as she was three weeks before her due date when we found out the boys wouldn't be coming back for another month. While she told us not to worry, we stressed even more, the chances of her giving birth while John wasn't present or in the area now running at an extreme high, yet, our luck was in store.

But we didn't know that at the time, did we?

Mary and Chrissie tried as hard as the could to mask the fact that they were always trying to convince me to pick up more shifts, or 'have some time alone at home', thinking I couldn't see their reasoning behind those remarks, gestures and suggestions. I knew their meaning, I knew they still felt bad about my miscarriage, as did I. I was still grieving, as was Roger, and spending so much time apart really wasn't helping either.

But I was due to be there for one of my best friends, who was there for me when I was pregnant, which was quite well in the past by about 6 months. I expected nothing less of myself except to be there for Veronica, no matter how bad they all felt for me, I accepted that even though I knew I still was not over losing my child, and I was still grieving terribly, going home almost every night and bursting into tears at the image of the screening of the pregnancy in the frame that rested on Roger and I's bedside table, which also sat next to a photo of us together in a frame.