"Anyone seen much of Freddie, today?" Joe asked as he began to put leftover tuna salad in a plastic container. "Not like him to skip breakfast and tea, even if for just a nibble."

"Not since he elected to have his cuppa in the garden, despite the temperature," Phoebe looked up from his spot at the table, flipping through a catalogue. "He did tell me this morning he's been struck with inspiration to write, but not after he slammed a few doors and drawers."

"I saw him try to call Winnie a few times, man didn't pick up," Joe commented, thoughtful. "Maybe that's why I saw him put a cigarette out with more force than usual in the back garden."

"Mary invited him out shopping but he said no- she seemed upset with him. I believe I overheard her tell him to cool it with the attitude."

Joe snickered at that.

Isabella continued to look down at the plate in front of her as she scrubbed at it with a blue sponge. She now wished she'd gone with Mary to the shops.

"Everything go ok last night? I wasn't going to ask, but since he's now-" Joe started quietly, at Isabella's side now. It was as if he forgot she was in the room, then remembered, and a lightbulb went off in his head.

"I thought it went well," Isabella's words came out in a whisper, purposefully cutting the man off. She was almost certain Freddie wasn't within listening distance, wherever he was, but she could not take the chance. "He was really kind and helpful, we actually talked a good bit."

"Ah," Phoebe nodded over and over, pursing his lips. "Of course! It all makes sense now."

Isabella put the mug in her hand down, and turned to Phoebe. Joe did the same. They wordlessly watched as Phoebe flipped to the next page of the catalogue, as if he didn't just make an open-ended declaration.

"Uh, care to share with the class, Pheebs?"

Phoebe turned towards the two in the kitchen. "Oh, sorry, thought it was obvious! He's guilty about his poor behavior towards Isabella. And perhaps the rest of us, too."

Isabella's cheeks reddened. "He shouldn't feel guilty. He's a person, and he was frustrated. Nobody's perfect."

From his spot next to the china cabinet behind the entrance into the kitchen, Freddie suddenly felt even worse. How he wished Isabella had chimed in and said Freddie did deserve to feel bad for how he'd handled her moving in.

"You're a good kid," Joe quickly smoothed a hand over her curly hair.

Freddie turned on his feet and headed back towards the piano room. Despite trying his best to be quiet, the sound of the hard bit on his slippers padding against the hardwood was heard by Isabella, Joe and Phoebe altogether. After all, the kitchen was soundless now that Isabella had turned the running water off at the sink.

The three looked at each other wordlessly, until Isabella took a deep breath:

"Think I could bring him a plate?"

Joe exchanged a glance with Phoebe before nodding. "Real sweet of you to offer, but, are you sure? You don't have to if you're not entirely comfortable."

Truth was, Isabella wasn't entirely comfortable, but she had to keep trying. Whatever happened at school didn't matter as much to her because it wasn't the place she woke up in every day and went to bed in every day. Garden Lodge, and the inner mechanisms of daily life there, mattered quite a bit more to her. She had months left of staying there and time wasn't exactly flying.

"No, I want to." Isabella leaned back against the kitchen counter, and wiped her slightly damp hands on her jeans. "Please."

"I for one think it's a great idea," Phoebe smiled. "Freddie's a bit like an old record player—needs a gentle nudge to get going."

Isabella managed a small smile back. "I think it's about time I start doing more around here anyway."

"I'll teach you how to make a roast dinner tomorrow, and by next Sunday it'll be your deal."

Isabella playfully punched his arm. "I can help you peel the vegetables, how's that?"

"Hmmm... I'll take it," Joe winked, and then looked over at Phoebe. The two men flashed grins at one another, completely and wholeheartedly grateful for the house's newest addition.

To them, it felt like Isabella had been there forever. They couldn't imagine a household before her, and they didn't want to imagine one after. Having the girl around was a breath of fresh air.

Isabella dried her hands one last time on her jeans and grabbed a patterned plate, arranging a few bits from their tea onto it, including some green olives, cheese, crackers and hummus. As she made her way closer to the piano room, Isabella gripped the plate a little harder.

There Freddie was, sitting at the piano, fingers lightly tapping the keys as if lost in thought.

Isabella knocked on the wood siding, and tried her best to smile. "My turn to hover in a doorway."

Freddie lifted his fingers off the keys, and let his slender and perfectly manicured hands hover just above. His brown eyes flickered over to her.

There was something in that gaze again —an uncertainty or perhaps a vulnerability—that she had already noted the evening before.

"You missed tea, so I brought you some... picky bits." Isabella cleared her throat, holding out the plate. "Hopefully I said that right... Phoebe called it that."

Freddie tilted his head up to survey the plate. "Yes, dear. Although I've never grown accustomed to that phrase myself. I just call it tea."

"Why do you call it tea when there's mostly food involved?"

A spark of amusement showed in Freddie's eyes. "You know, I haven't got a clue. Come in, come in."

Isabella followed his call, and set the plate on the side table next to an embroidered sofa. "Are you making music?"

Freddie eyed the plate, ignoring her question. "You didn't have to do that, by the way."

Isabella shrugged, taking another small step forward. Joe's words, once again, were in her head:

He's more afraid of you than you are of him.

The confidence this gave her was a true game changer.

"But I did."

"But you did."

Freddie's hands lowered again, his pointer finger now softly stroking a key.

"It's really fine, consider it another thanks for helping me out last night," Isabella replied, feeling a bit bolder. "Don't think I'll fail it, now."

"Is that where the bar is set? Just passing?"

"Unfortunately," Isabella looked down at her feet. "Will keep studying, though. Hey, are you around tonight? Maybe we can go for a walk? You can show me your favorite parts of South Kensington?"

"My favorite parts?"

"Joe, Mary, and Phoebe have all done it with me so far, individually. Mary likes the V&A Museum, Phoebe and I did a tour of the Royal Albert Hall... it's been... nice."

It's been nice? Isabella repeated in her head. That's the best you can do, idiot?

"And Joseph?"

"There's an American candy store about a ten minute walk from here," Isabella playfully rolled her eyes. "We spent almost an hour in there."

Freddie's gaze softened, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "I shouldn't be surprised. That's a kind offer, Isabella, but I've already got plans to go out with some friends tonight. Elton John, Peter Straker, the whole lot."

Isabella didn't know who Peter Straker was, but she sure as hell knew who Elton John was. Suddenly, Freddie's rejection didn't matter to her, because all she could think about was Elton John.

"Dear?"

Isabella came to, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "Sorry, it's just cool you know Elton John."

"That old tart? I'm surprised you aren't swooning over Michael Jackson, or Rick Springfield."

"I'm eleven-almost-twelve. I don't swoon. Boys are yuck."

"Boys are yuck," Freddie agreed, rolling his eyes and thinking about how Winnie hadn't returned his calls in two days.

Isabella eyed him carefully, remembering what her classmates said. She still hadn't told another soul what had occurred.

"So, uh, another time, then," Isabella crossed her arms over her chest, as if giving herself a hug.

"Certainly," Freddie nodded, even more guilt bubbling in his chest now. He didn't want to face her anymore today. "Be a dear and close the door behind you?"

Isabella did just that, feeling perplexed as she toed up the stairs and to her bedroom. Sure, it made sense that the most complicated relationship of them all here was with the Freddie Mercury, but she wished it wasn't so. Isabella climbed onto her bed and curled on her left side to face the framed photograph of her family at a beach in Connecticut. It was a prized possession of hers now that the rest had burned in the fire. Her Aunt Gina had tucked it into her passport as she went to board the plane.

Tears spilled, and not necessarily because of Freddie. He certainly wasn't helping things, but he was still the least of her problems.

~

Later that night at the Woseley, home to one of London's loveliest dining rooms, Freddie lamented to his two friends about his current biggest problem. He hadn't touched his lamb, whereas Peter Straker and Elton John were already dabbing their mouths with their cloth napkins, the sign of a meal well enjoyed:

"And now I'm helping her with maths and she's managing to seem thankful but also scared of me the minute I show her any real warmth?" Freddie sneered. "But then she's offering olive branches in the form of tea plates, and I'm pulling you two in to meet me last minute so I don't have to spend one on one time with her" Freddie concluded, a mix of frustration and regret in his voice. "I'm not sure what to do, or how to make amends."

"Lordy Lordy, what has this little American lady done to our fearless Freddie?" Peter tutted, pushing Freddie's plate towards him a bit. "Eat a bit, honey. Then we'll get the champagne flowing again."

"He's right. You eat, we'll talk," Elton folded his hands in his lap, gold rings glistening under the light of the chandelier above. "Firstly, going to ignore the fact that you invited us to avoid Isabella. Secondly, from my perspective, I can understand how her arrival has rattled your cage, so to speak. As much as I hate to admit it, I believe I'd feel the same. Might not have acted on it as you have, but the feeling would be there."

"Real helpful," Freddie chewed a tiny bite. "Congratulations on your sainthood."

"What Elton's trying to say," Peter put a gentle hand on Elton's arm. "Is that he does understand. I do too. Freddie, love, you're not a stranger to reinvention. Why not try a different approach? Actually apologize to her, be direct."

"You're the adult and she's a young girl who's been through too much," Elton added, briefly glancing up at the waiter who was filling his glass of water.

"Being good to her, we'd expect nothing less from you, angel," Straker's voice was warm. "It's only been a month, and from what we've gathered, you never purposely tried to hurt her. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Freddie's gaze was distant. "I was annoyed, irritated by the disruption of all things her. I've been trying to keep my home life as stable as possible, and the moment she arrived she seemed like a hurricane... but she's not just a hurricane..." Freddie stopped, staring into the distance.

"She's a girl who lost her family, trying to navigate a world that doesn't make sense to her anymore," finished Elton.

The atmosphere at the table grew somber. Terry Giddings, from his spot a couple tables away, was almost desperate to know what was being said amongst the three. He usually never cared about what Freddie talked about with his friends, but tonight was different. It was clear to him who the topic of conversation was, and he hoped Elton and Peter were in favor of Isabella. He'd noticed how much tension had been in Garden Lodge whenever Freddie and Isabella were there at the same time, not just between them, but with the other adults especially.

Things needed to change, and it was up to Freddie to fix them.

"You said she's here until February?" Peter asked.

Freddie nodded wordlessly.

"A blip in the radar of your life. Make the most of it, and be you. You might be just what she needs."

Freddie snorted. "I think Joseph, Phoebe, and Mary have that bit covered."

"Just so you know, after tonight I won't be complimenting you until mid-1983," Elton began, turning in his seat a bit more towards Freddie now. He took a moment to let Freddie scowl at him, enjoy Peter's amusement, and then continued:

"Freddie, you've been through a lot, and I understand that Isabella's arrival has thrown you off. But mate, you've got more to offer than you realize. Mary, Joe, and Phoebe are doing their bit, but you're underestimating your own impact. You've got a unique perspective on life, and you could be a solid support for the girl too."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Freddie, you can be another the stable figure. Who knows, maybe just the one she needs."

That thought alone was daunting to the singer. He couldn't sit on it for another second, or else the pressure would get to him.

Elton leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Open up, let her see the real you without the rockstar facade... the Freddie that the ones close to you get to experience. You might find it's not just about helping her; it's about finding a bit of peace for yourself too."

"You don't want kids," Peter said matter of factly. "There may never be a little one roaming around Garden Lodge again for this length of time. Make the most of it. It'll help her to know that the head of the house accepts her presence. Despite what she's endured and enduring, I'm sure she'll sleep a bit better at night knowing you have her back."

Elton waved a waiter over to pour more champagne. "And who knows, you might get a few cracking songs out of this experience."

"He'll be covering Isn't She Lovely by the end of next week," Straker slapped his knee, and Elton followed, roaring with laughter.

"You two are fuckers," Freddie waited to say after the waiter had poured him more champagne. "I was going to cover the bill for your services, but now I'm considering stiffing you with it."

Elton grinned, raising his glass. "Ah, the real Freddie is surfacing. I've missed that."

As the evening continued, the trio indulged in lighter conversation, steering away from the weighty topic of Isabella and more towards other topics, such as when their next trip to Sotheby's would be and what they would wear to Elton's Halloween party at the end of the month.

Once the bill was settled, and Freddie found himself standing outside the restaurant with Terry Giddings by his side, the restaurant's valet service pulling the car around.

"Need me for tomorrow?" Terry asked, glancing at Freddie.

Freddie took a deep breath, looking up at the night sky. "No, I think I'll do tomorrow by foot, and I'll bring Phoebe."

"Are you sure? If you change your mind, just give me a ring."

"Not to worry, I'll be local... just a walk about South Ken, dear."