Every time you make a move

Life still goes on

Garden Lodge, 22nd March 1984

"Roshni, love, don't feed him that! He's got his own milk!"

Monica pried the glass of milk from her daughter Roshni's hands as she tried to coax Goliath, sitting on the breakfast bar and watching her eat her lunch to share her drink with her.

She pouted as the black cat hopped off the surface and bounded out of the room. And the sound of Freddie's grand piano in the lounge being played erratically by Johnny was sounding throughout the house.

The school boiler broke down, but even then, Monica didn't see why Johnny and Roshni had to be sent home when temperatures were soaring in London. What use would a boiler have been then?

"Johnny?!" Monica called out, wiping of sweat from on her forehead using the back of her hand, "Come in here and finish your lunch... or no biscuit after!"

He slammed the Ivory keys hard in annoyance, and stomped back into the kitchen.

"And be careful with daddy's piano!" She nagged.

Before the little boy could answer back with something cheeky, the intercom rang, " I'll get it, mummy!"

"Okay! As them who they are, do not let them in!" She called out, picking up his knife and fork ready to cut his leftovers into bitesize pieces, muttering "Pity he won't eat these sausages but he will answer the door"

"Can we have chicken later?" Roshni squeaked.

Monica sighed, "We're meeting daddy later at  a restaurant sweetheart, remember?"

"Will the restaurant have chicken?" she repeated.

Her mother lovingly ruffled her raven black tousled hair, "It probaby will"

At that moment, Johnny ran into the kitchen, "There's a man and woman police outside the gate"

"What did I tell you about fibbing, Johnny?" Monica pulled his stool out.

"But there is! They say that it is important and that I need to get a grown up!" He grabbed her wrist, tugging her to the door.

Amidst her confusion, she didn't notice Roshni leaping off of her stool, ready to bolt out amd answer the door.

But a second later she took action, "Stay here! They're probably inquiring about car tax or something"

But in her head, she was panicking. For the law only ever got involved when the safety of Freddie's family was being breached.

At the studio...

"I can't bloody walk in these stilts. Can't we change them?!"

"We will try and find shorter ones then" the head costume designer spoke through gritted teeth, for Freddie Mercury's diva demands were getting on her nerves.

The singer plopped himself into the chair in front of the dressing room mirror, and Phoebe bent down to Freddie's feet to untie his high heels. The fans in the corner and the air conditioning were ineffective in cooling the dressing room down from the head emitted by the large amount of costume and make-up assistants swarming around and tending to the band in costume.

"Why can't I shave my moustache off for it? If I am playing a woman today and a ballet-dancing faun tomorrow why can't I just shave the damn thing off now?" he took a drag of his cigarette and placed it on the ashtray.

"Because it makes it funny if it's there" Roger called from his seat next to him, adjusting the boater on his head .

"This drag thing is all your doing!" he spat.