Roger walked into José Amalfitani Stadium to applause from the band and crew. He felt like a handsome hero, although he looked horrible. He bowed as he went, taking it all in and laughing. At the stage end of the grass stood 3 lanky men, clapping him on.

"My son will be handsome, just like me!" Roger cheered, a fist of success waving in the air. Brian smirked.

"And hopefully have the personality of Lucy to compensate for the face?" He joked, hugging Roger. Roger laughed sarcastically, hugging him back.

Meanwhile, back in cold-ass England, my day was panning out very differently.

I was exhausted. Today was going to be a big day: A house full of clucky friends and relatives who would pass my baby around like a pass-the-parcel and I was filled with terror. On top of hardly sleeping out of anxiety (also known as my incessant need to watch Henry at all times), this was enough to send me crying.

I eventually got myself out of the shower and dressed, checking on Vivienne and Hen in between. The doorbell rang as I came out of my room, my still-inflated belly hidden under my dress. Chrissie Mullen walked in, hands full of grocery bags, looking as though she was ready to take on an army.

"Right, my beautiful adopted daughters, who wants some pre-disaster cheese and crackers?"

"Oh gosh, you'll make her more nervous than she already is!" Vivienne yelled, coming down the staircase. I watched with great stress as she made her way towards me, keeping my eyes on Henry until he was safe in my arms.

"Oh, Lucy. You've got nothing to worry about. It's all May-ish and Florence family today. It's not like your other parents will turn up with a cake." Chrissie tried to make light of the situation, walking into the kitchen. She noticed the look of tension on my face and decided to continue.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've just told everyone it's an average family reunion. You three just make a special appearance whenever you feel like and retreat to the house as quickly as you please. No one gets to touch Henry without your permission and he doesn't even have to come out. Only the best from Bomma Chrissie." She continued, kissing the top of Henry's head and then my cheek, smiling at me.

"I've got your back, Lucy. We all know Roger and Brian would be the same if they were here." Chrissie opened the fridge, heaving out my mars Bar cake I had whipped up last night, followed by rum balls. And then the lemon meringue pie. And the apple pie.

"Stress cooking until 2 AM. We'll have to start loading up on NyQuill the way she's going." Vivienne joked, putting the pies in the oven and turning it on.

After being vomited on by Henry, I quickly changed into a purple soda fountain dress with Roger's black sports coat over the top (one of his many, God bless him and his wardrobe) and bare feet. If those guests thought they were getting a properly dressed Lucy May, they had another thing coming!

The guests arrived by the carload, ushered into the shed by Chrissie and Vivienne. Decked out with white tables and chairs, Roger's cars had migrated to behind the house to make room for everyone. I watched from the upstairs hallway, adjusting the sling across my chest that held Henry.

"So I don't know about your parents but mine are driving me insane and they've been here for ten minutes." Vivienne ranted, entering the house. I smirked, imagining Eleanor and Maverick complaining about each other to anyone who would listen, even though they would never divorce.

I decided to take Henry down to the shed, staying in a chair near the wood heater, having people periodically visit us. Vivienne stayed by my side, keeping me relaxed. I was thankful for her, only leaving me once to talk to Chrissie. With anxiety high, my heart jumped every time someone leant over to look into Henry's sling. I constantly held my arm over him, keeping him as close to me as possible, keeping him protected. As Ruth and Harold left us after a mountain of congratulations and well wishes, I retreated back to the house to let Henry sleep in peace. I sat in the kitchen, wrapped in Roger's scent, and cracked open his copy of On The Road by Jack Kerouac. One of his favourite books, the cover was beautifully damaged and the spine cracked with veins of white under the black ink. I read every word aloud, a way of keeping myself awake. I didn't want to sleep.

"Lucy? You want some sausages in Yorkshire Pudding?" Chrissie asked softly. I looked up at her and shook my head. How could I say no to my own comfort food?

"You've been dealing with tour life longer than me. How do you get through the days when all you want is them close to you? How do you deal with missing them to the point of heartache? How do I find the power to sleep like a regular human and actually function when all I want is to feel Roger's nose on the back of my neck or his arms around me or see his naked trips from the bathroom to the bedroom because I'm at a complete loss. I have no idea what to do." I ranted, sniffing back tears. Chrissie stood in the doorway and shrugged.

"I guess you just keep going. There's nothing you can do. You can't change anything. You've just got to... Wait it out." She suggested, walking over to me.

"The over-anxious mumma phase doesn't last forever, Lucy. Neither does pining for the Roger."

"'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker!" I put on my best John Cleese voice and joined Chrissie in a short rendition of The Dead Parrot Sketch. We ended in a fit of laughter, ridiculously falling over each other. I rested my head on her shoulder, regaining control of my lungs. In the lull of our excitement, the faint cry of Henry could just be heard.

"I'll get him. He's probably crapped himself again. Just like his father! Full of shit." Chrissie laughed, leaving me in the kitchen. As long as I had her and Vivienne around, I was going to be okay.