On the afternoon of April 10th, I received a phone call from Harriett…well, actually Roger picked up the phone. I was disheartened to learn that her sister had died and the funeral arrangements had been set for April 14th. Roger had said she sounded distraught on the phone, not only because of the death of her sister, but because she wouldn’t be returning to my side. Today was April 11th and Roger had already left for the Japanese leg of the tour. He and I were fortunate to have traveled to Cambridge to spend a few days with my parents before they prepared to leave for the Crowne Cup which was a thoroughbred race being held in Scotland. Any time Roger and I retreated to the farm, it left us with happiness and despite how uncomfortable I was increasingly becoming at 28 weeks.  My mother made the incessant heartburn, peeing around the clock, back pain and overall swelling seem like it was no big deal. And Roger. I cried the morning he left because it had gotten to me that by the time he came back it would be time to have the baby. I had no idea how I was going to get through these last three months without him. He had done everything for me while he was home.

        He and I had unloaded on each other about our fears once the baby would arrive and shockingly…or maybe not so shockingly…our fears were much the same. He worried about being a shitty father, I worried about being a shittier mother. He asked me if I was gonna’ start smoking again after the baby was born. Honestly, I was almost weaned from it although the smell of Roger’s cigarettes from the other room made me want one. I didn’t know if I would start again or not. We worried about the baby draining us both physically and mentally and that is precisely why my mum had suggested we consider hiring a nanny for a while. I knew Veronica and Chrissie would judge me harshly for even thinking about having a nanny. But, what worked in their lives didn’t necessarily work in mine. We worried about bonding with it. Sure, I was growin’ the thing but it wasn’t like I felt some deep, connected spiritual bond with it and I know that Roger didn’t. One of our deepest fears was having the baby and then truly, having no idea what to do with it. We had the most rawly sincere night before he left because we really threw our vulnerable selves out there. We hadn’t done that in a long time.

            I was feeling exceptionally miserable today as I sat in the house alone watching the telly in the sitting room off the kitchen. My stomach was uncomfortable. I was cramping and bloated and I couldn’t get comfortable on the couch. I wished I had Harriett but Roger and I agreed that she needed to take all the time she needed in the death of her sister. I had made arrangements to have flowers to the service on Roger and I’s behalf. As I struggled on the couch, the phone rang. I reached over my head to search for it.

            “Hello?” I half-moaned.

            “Oh my, you sound a bit…unsettled.” The voice on the other end said.

            “Ugh…I am. I can’t get comfortable. I feel like a beach ball, my ankles are swollen, my lower back is killing me and let's now even talk about the things you don't wanna' hear about.” I moped. Mary laughed at me.

            “I’m very sorry about your midwife. I know you must need her right now.” Mary said sincerely, having heard the news from Freddie I was sure since Roger probably told him.

            “I know. I really hate it for her. She must be devastated. Roger said it was a house fire so it sounds quite horrific.” I said.

            “Any idea when she’ll be back?” Mary asked, twirling the phone cord between her fingers and pacing around her kitchen.

            “Not now. Roger told her to call when she was ready to return. We agreed she needs to take some time and…you know morn in her own right and take care of things around her family. She’s with her boys and her sister’s children.” I explained.

            “Oh dear. That poor soul.” Mary paused. “Freddie’s doctor called today.” She sighed into the phone. “I was right. I was right…about the white blood cell count. Something isn’t right. They…they got another test back. Freddie is free of Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia but…his white blood cells are fighting an infection in his body that doctor’s cannot identify.  I told them that he felt fine, his weight was terrific and that he was healthy…yet…the blood cells are still elevated.” Mary explained.

            “Do you think it could be stress induced? I mean, this is the last leg of the tour and they’ve been at it a very long time now. This is a 74 date tour. It’s one of the longest they’ve had.” I reminded her.

            “You know, you could be right. I never thought of that. He was really dreading this leg because his voice is strained. In fact, he was worried that he may not be able to sustain his voice during all the shows. He’s been so hoarse.” Mary said.

            “It sounds like he needs some time off.” I reassured her, wanting her to be at peace with the fact that Freddie wasn’t ill. Mary sighed.

            “You’re probably right and I’m probably reading in to the new reports far too much. I just worry about Freddie so. He’s fragile…mentally and physically he can be so fragile. I’m not telling you anythin’ you don’t already know.” Mary said, talking herself through her own dialog.

            “I know. And you have every right to worry for Fred. He knows you worry for him and he worries for you. You each mutually care and Mary, there’s no one else Freddie would have ever dreamed of taking to the doctor with him. Does he know about the new tests that returned?” I asked, rubbing my stomach.

            “No. I’m not going to share it with him until he is landed and settled in Japan. He doesn’t need something else on his mind.” Mary said. I had to smile to myself because it was and always would be her. Selfless. And always putting Freddie’s well-being before even her own.  Talking to her made me feel a little better.  I hung on the phone with her for a good portion of my afternoon simply talking and laughing about things. Honestly, talking to Mary took my mind off of the active baby kicking around in my uterus and the miserable heartburn I felt.

 April 14, 1979 Tokyo, Japan – Nippon Budokan

         Freddie, nor Brian, John or Roger for that matter, was no stranger to the Budokan. In fact, this had been their fifth appearance at the Budokan.  The venue itself was electric, high, black painted ceiling that were arched to support musical acts. The stage was always so easily maneuvered. Loading and unloading equipment was never a problem at the Budokan and Japanese hospitality was the best. The people were grateful and kind at every appearance made.  The atmosphere here was warm, inviting and it oozed pure fandom. The people of Japan adored Queen and it was always the most gracious welcome on any tour.

 The sound check had reached its near endpoint when Freddie shook his head and turned around, facing Brian. At the disappearance of Freddie’s voice, It was a chain reaction of Brian, John and Roger ceasing their own parts.  Freddie shook his head again.

“You have to carry me! I can’t keep up like this! My voice is cracking and falling out!! I have to rest or there’ll be nothing from me for tonight!” Freddie hoarsely confessed.

“Roger needs to carry you the most. I can only do so much.” Brian said. Freddie swallowed hard and rubbed on his neck.

“Just turn my mike up.” Roger insisted. “Leave Brian’s the way it is but turn me up for the higher parts and I can carry it out. Just tell the sound to turn it up. We’ll need to specify the cues though.” Roger deduced.

“I know that but…” Freddie huffed, obviously feeling frustrated.

“What? He’s right. Just turn him up.” Brian said, glancing up to the clock: 6:55PM. “Fred, we gotta’ wrap this up anyway. House doors open in an hour.”

“Very well! Fine…fine! We don’t have time to overthink this. Roger, let’s write the cues. I need a break.” Freddie said, rather raspy and breathless. Brian and John proceeded to clean up their area, the roadies hurrying to the stage to vacuum down as Brian and John began to break down equipment. Naturally, as Brian so often did, he became wrapped up in conversation with Will, one of his closet roadies. As the two discussed Brian’s tuning, his positioning and where equipment would be located at different points in the nights’ show; they failed to notice another of the roadies come bursting through the door behind them.

Rod, another faithful roadie, burst through a side door, a door which wasn’t meant to even be unlocked this close to show time. He appeared breathless and perhaps even a little panicked.

“Hey! Hey Rod! Rod, what are you doing? That side’s off limits to everyone including…” John’s information was interrupted by Rod, huffing with a hand over his chest as he leaned into the railing that lead to stage right.

            “It’s….need….emergency….his….she’s…” Rod couldn’t catch his, having run to the side entrance of the Budokan loading docks from the central lobby of the hotel in Tokyo three city blocks away.

            “Rod, Rod calm down. What’s going on!? What’s wrong?” John sat his bass aside quickly and put a hand on Rod’s shoulder, pulling him up the stairs to the stage area. “Breathe, here! Here!” John handed over his plastic cup of water to the obviously weakened and breathless roadie. Rod took the cup with a trembling hand, guzzling what was left of John’s water, spilling part of it down his sweaty shirt. He huffed again and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. He barged past John.

            “Rrrr…Roger! Roger!” Rod tripped on the top step, falling into the stage.

            “Rod! You okay? Relax…catch your breath!” John said, helping him to his feet and forcing him to calm himself.

            “Hey, hey? You okay? What’s wrong with you?” Roger asked of him, seeing as Rod was quite shaken up.

            “Rog….Roger…you…your wife…she’s in labor. Your wife’s in labor right now!” he exhaled heavily, slowly gaining his breath.

            “What the hell, Rod!? Don’t you fuckin’ joke about somethin’ like that!” Roger yelled at him.

            “I’M NOT FUCKIN’ JOKIN! I just ran here from the hotel because the hospital is trying to GET THE FUCK A HOLD OF YOU! Roger! I’m serious! Your baby….your baby’s on the way. It's happening.” Rod swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Roger stared at him in disbelief as did John.

            “Ly…Lyd’s not due until June….she’s NOT DUE UNTIL JUNE, ROD!” Roger said, unable to process what he had just heard.

            “I realize that! Roger, the hospital says she’s gone into pre-term labor and she's in the early stages right now!"

            “What’s going on back here?” Freddie asked, swallowing down a sip of honey infused tea that had been awaiting him from the kind Japanese venue promoter.  Roger looked at Freddie helplessly.

            “Lydia’s in labor.” He said. Freddie practically dropped the teacup in his hand.

            “Wait….wait. Rod, what stage of labor did the hospital say she was in?” John asked logically.

            “I don’t know! I don't know that shit!” Rod said defensively. It was at this time that Brian could clearly tell something was wrong behind him, walking toward the side of the stage near Freddie. He had a strange look on his face.

            “Lydia’s in labor.” John told Brian. Brian’s eyes grew wide at the news.

            “Well, when did she get to the fuckin’ hospital!?” Roger squeaked at him.

            “She was admitted to the maternity floor at 9:27 Surrey time. I don’t know other details!” Rod insisted.

            “If she was admitted this morning, she’s not far along. How did…” Brian thought for a moment. There were eight hours time difference between Surrey and Tokyo. 9:27AM in Surrey equated to 5:27PM in Tokyo. He glanced to the clock again: 7:09PM. “She’s only been there a couple hours. She can’t be too far into it.” Leave it to Brian to figure out the logistics of it all. “That means…” he looked to the clock again and looked to Roger with sunken eyes. “…even if you fly out right now…you’re probably not gonna’ make it. The baby will be here before you can get back to Surrey.” Freddie looked to Brian and then to John.

            “O…okay…okay…I…I need to talk to ‘er. I need to…Rod, who’s with ‘er at the hospital?” Roger asked continuing to internally panic about this. Rod stared at Roger and shook his head.

            “She’s alone.” He said, swallowing heavily again before his pulse began to decrease. John Deacon was never one to get stirred all that much to the point that others around him knew. Maybe it was the fact that Veronica was pregnant with his 3rd or perhaps it was something else. But whatever it was, hearing that news caused him to cover his mouth with both hands as if that announcement was utterly horrifying.

            “She….she’s…alone?” Roger’s words were only barely above a whisper and his mind was racing.

            “We need to get you on a plane now. Come on. Come on, I’ll get all your stuff you need from the hotel, John said, hurrying down the stairs. However, Roger wasn’t hot on his trail. “Rog! Come on! We’ve gotta’ get arrangements made!” John said.

            “Wait! Wait! Just hold the fuck on, John! Let me think!” Roger blinked several times as a million thoughts crossed him mind. A fast flight from Tokyo to London was about thirteen hours. That was a non-stop flight…on a commercial-sized jet. First time labor, on average lasted as little as fourteen hours and as long as twenty but once it started; there was no stopping it.  While making it back was actually feasible; the problem was that neither doctors nor nurses could predict how long any one woman’s labor and delivery would last. Another factor in this little debacle was that at this point it was completely uncertain as to what size plane could be ready to return to London and how soon.  Not to mention there was the drive from London to back to Surrey.

            “We’re gonna’ need to cancel tonight’s show.” John said, shaking his head and looking to Freddie. 

            “Hold on, hold on! It’s an hour to the airport from right here. There’s not even a plan ready to take off to London right now. We should go on with the show so there’s time to get a plane on the runway for me to get on as soon as the show is over.” Roger deduced. He was met with eyes of judgment and shock from Brian and shock.

            “Roger!? What the…Your child is being born! You don’t have time to fuckin’ wait!” John’s voice was a little squeaky.

            “He’s right! And Fred! What about his voice!? He can use the night off. C’mon! We can get you to the airport right now! Isn’t that right, Rod?” Brian looked to the roadie who immediately shook his head yes.

            “We can’t bail on this show! It’s a sold out house, we’d be losin’ an enormous amount of money!” Roger said. In times of intense stress, people react very differently and there are always reasons for their actions.  But Roger’s words set something off in John that caused a side of him to come out that no one had ever before seen in such force.

            “YOU CAN'T BAIL ON YOUR WIFE! SHE IS ALONE HAVING YOUR BABY, ROGER! YOU WANNA’ THINK ABOUT SOME FUCKIN’ SHOW!? HUH!?” John rushed back up the steps and toward Roger.

            “No! No! No! No! No! Stop, John!” Freddie dropped his tea mug and lunged toward John would had absolutely snapped. It took everything in his power to restrain him from Roger.

            “I’ve ALWAYS had your back, Roger! ALWAYS! I’ve always been on your fuckin’ side!” John screamed at him, trying to break free of Freddie’s grasp. Brian shook his head, unable to digest the words he had just heard. “I can’t believe you! You’d put this…this bullshit before the birth of your own child!? You don’t give two shits about ANYONE but yourself, Roger! Your wife, who has been alone during the pregnancy by the way, is ALONE and probably SCARED out of her mind in a hospital room…AND YOU WANNA’ FUCKIN….” John had turned into an out of control fit of rage, pulling lose of Freddie’s hands.

            “John! John no!” he hoarsely screamed at him as John let lose and planted a fist into Roger’s face.

            “FUCK! Jesus….shit….WHAT THE HELL, JOHN!?” Roger screeched, holding on to his face.

            “Stop! Stop! Stop…come on…come on John, pull ya’self together.” Brian yelled at him, throwing his arms around John and holding him as tightly as he could.

            “Brian has been right all along….you are a self-righteous, entitled, worthless cad. Roger, you really don’t care about anyone but yourself!” John said, calming down as Roger help on to a throbbing cheek. Rod grabbed ahold of Roger’s shoulders.

            “John…calm down.” Brian said quietly to him. “Not every body acts the same under traumatic news.” Brian did his best to remind John. John’s breathe seethed.

            “I swear to god…If you don’t make the right decision. I’m never speakin’ to your fuckin’ sorry arse ever again.” John’s words cut like the sharpest of blades.