TW: Mature Themes
Song - Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas and Papas
March 31st, 1975
London, England
I raced frantically around the bedroom, anxiously scanning the floor for any items I had missed in my haste. My suitcase lay on the bed, overflowing, refusing to close, as I haphazardly launched loose items atop the already sizeable pile. Once I was satisfied I had collected everything I needed, I threw my weight onto the suitcase, struggling for almost a full minute to close it. Even that slight bit of exercise had me physically out of breathe as I lounged against the bed, fanning at my face in an attempt to cool down.
This pregnancy was already so much more difficult than Lola's had been, at least physically. Back then, I hadn't even noticed I was pregnant, all the symptoms other than nausea undetectable. This time, I had every single symptom. Every. Single. One.
I could vaguely detect voices downstairs as Lola babbled away, incredibly hyper about her first time going on a plane to an unamused Chrissie. I ignored the brunette's calls as she reminded me for a third time that we would miss our flight if I didn't hurry up. I stared at me reflection in the mirror, still slightly out of breathe, and let out a small sigh. The shattered, pale blonde facing me, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting mum jeans and one of Roger's old, grey t-shirts, her hair placed on a scruffy bun atop her head, her visage make-up free, did not look like someone desperate to dazzle her love. I would be lucky if Roger didn't break up with me on the spot at this rate.
My face was covered with red splotches, my eyes decorated by thick, heavy bags. No matter how much I slept, I was constantly tired, sleeping ten hours a night and interspersing the day whilst Lola was at school with sporadic naps. The housework was piling up, as Lola and myself relied increasingly on takeaways. My hormones were fucking shot. My skin deathly pale. My hair frazzled. Constantly throwing up.
But hey, at least there was only five and a half more months to go.
"Victoria, we really need to go" Chrissie snapped me out of my trance as she stormed into the room, her heels clicking against the floor, a hand on her hip. Dressed in skin-tight black jeans, a low cut green top, and highlighted cheeks bones, Chrissie looked every inch a rockstars girlfriend. Her lips pursed as she took in the mess, before she snatched my suitcase from the bed.
"You look like shit" she warned me. She always was direct. Despite her directness, her inability to prevent herself speaking whatever was on her mind, myself and Chrissie had become fast friends since Queen departed for the North America leg of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour. Once I became used to her direct nature and constant state of agitation, realising it was just her personality, rather than her hating me for what I used to be to Brian, I had come to appreciate her good qualities, how she would do anything for anyone, even though she would rarely smile as she did it. By this point, her critiques were almost loving.
"I feel like shit" I responded joylessly, as I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder. Although our trip was only meant to be a week, as Lola had to return to school after the holidays, I had packed rather optimistically, hoping we could find some secret way to stay with him. Chrissie, who worked as a freelance photographer, intended to stay for the rest of the tour. "I wish Veronica was here" I added, forlornly. The future mrs Deacon was too pregnant to fly safely. I felt a little guilty leaving her alone.
"Well, that's what you both get for getting yourselves pregnant" Chrissie tutted as she attempted to drag mine and Lola's shared suitcase to the door. It made me feel a little better that the athletic brunette struggled with the weight of it too. "Honestly, I finally get decent girl friends I can go day drinking with, and you both get bloody pregnant, leaving me with Brian" she added crossly. She swatted my hand away as I attempted to help her haul the suitcase down the stairs, muttering something about how she sure as hell wasn't going to let a pregnant lady break her back on the damn thing. Luckily, the chauffeur relieved her of the suitcase half way down the stairs, himself struggling slightly with the weight.
