It's the beginning of the summer of 1977. Final exams are over and 18 year old Monica Brannigan and her best friend Paula leave their troubled home city of Belfast to embark on a fun-filled three day trip to London for Paula's 18th birthday, and to...
Freddie momentarily looked back at the double doors leading to the entrance of the operating theatre, before turning away and watching as his daughter quickly toddled up the corridor, his assistant rushing after her to make sure she wouldn't go too far.
"Well, I don't know how to fix a bloody leg, do I?" He thought as he gained pace to catch up with them.
***
"Mrs Bulsara?"
Monica felt someone shaking her arm gently.
She was jolted awake as she sat slumped in the waiting room.
"Mrs Bulsara, your son-"
"It's-It's Brannigan actually," she blushed. "We aren't married... yet.
"Sorry, Miss Brannigan, your son's leg is set and the anaesthetic is going to ware off soon. The procedure is over." The nurse explained.
She felt a huge weight lifting off her shoulders, "How long-that was quick!"
"It's nothing new. He'll be ready to wheel back to the unit once we've finished plastering his leg cast." She helped her stand up.
"Thank you so much!" She shook her hand.
"Come this way." She lead her towards the theatre.
She went in, and Johnny was still lying unconscious under the spotlight on the operating table as the team still tended to him, bandaging his leg and pulling his medical drip out.
"There you are, mummy," Doctor Barker pulled his oxygen mask down. "He's all done and wrapped up. It'll take 24 hours for his cast to dry."
"Oh, my brave, brave boy... thank you, doctor." she sighed in relief as she rubbed Johnny's head.
"Wait until I tell Freddie" she thought, watching as the boy's eyelids twitched.
Later that night...
Freddie tossed and turned in his empty bed, unable to sleep alone.
Monica's phone call had come as a relief. But after they exchanged their I love yous and set the receiver down he still was unable to put his guilty mind at rest.
He thought about all the possibilities his negligence could've led to. He knew his fears were a little far fetched, but what if his little boy had died? What if Johnny died breaking his neck, or cracking his head open on a stone? What if Johnny laid forgotten, and caught hypothermia? What if he'd died alone in the cold and wet thinking his mummy and daddy didn't love him because he'd waited for them to come and they never did?
"No... no. He's been found, you were lucky..." he told himself when he felt the waterworks.
Instinctively he reached for a cigarette and lit it between his teeth in the hope that it'd relax him.
"Monica will go barking mad if she sees I've been smoking around our children." He thought a moment later, sighing as he threw himself up and stubbed out his cigarette on his bedside ashtray.
He marched across the bedroom and grabbed his bed robe hanging on the back of the door, and made his way out of the master suite, slipping his arms through and rubbing his eyes as he found his way through the dark.
He pushed the nursery door open gently and tiptoed towards Roshni's cot.
"My little angel... thank god one of you is alright." He whispered, staring at the small child sleeping under the moonlight cracking through the curtain gap.
It fell on her black curls, her mouth hung open in peace as she lay curled up on her side against her teddy bear, dressed for bed in her footy one piece. She still had a trace of tomato sauce from the large bowl of bolognese she'd half eaten at the restaurant dried on her cheek that Phoebe must've missed when wiping her clean with a napkin.
He reached in and scraped if off before taking her by her torso softly lifting her out. She was the closet thing he had to Monica at that moment, let alone his son as well.
"Shhh shhh... go back to sleep, baby. Daddy's just feeling a little lonely tonight..." he crooned as he pulled her limp body against his chest as she began to incomprehensibly babble in her sleep, pressing his lips to her head resting against his shoulder.
He ever so lightly rocked her as he gathered her blanket and bear from between the bars, then slowly carried her out the door.
One of the cats shot across the corridor in his path in the dark, startling him.
He made it back to the master suite safely without tripping over anything or any cat, lowering himself on the bed as he cradled his daughter, tucking her teddy under her arm.
He never got a lot of moments like these with his children, let alone have one-to-one time with them when he got home from the studio, or coming back from being away on tour months at a time.
He laid back gently, pulling his thick duvet back up and putting his hand protectively against her back as he got settled.
He looked down at the warm, beautiful being laying contently still, her cheek pressed against his bare chest as his own eyes began to droop.
"Why am I even worrying about how I am as a parent?" He thought, lifting his head to plant a light kiss on Roshni's crown one last time before closing his eyes. "I'm doing all right..."
Early the next morning, when Phoebe had just arrived and walked into the master bedroom to look for his boss, he couldn't resist picking up Monica's Polaroid sitting on the top of the chest of drawers and snapping the sweet, sleeping sight.
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