Good Company

Chapter 1

A/N: John is 7 years old and Freddie is 9 years old. I don't know how the English school system works, but in my country, kids aged 4/5 to 11/12 go to the same school so I'm going to write from that perspective. I'm sorry if that's confusing for some of you, but I am definitely not sorry to say that I have better things to do with my time than to learn all about the common school systems of other countries ;)

~October 1976~ 

'No! I won't do it! Go without me!' 

'Freddie, come on. Don't act so childish. It's only for a little while. You'll be home in no time.' Brian sighed as he tried to get Freddie to go to school. It was John's first day of the 'big boy' school, which meant he would go to the same school as Freddie, like he did before, but he'd instead of taking classes in a different building that existed to teach the smallest children, he would go to the same building as Freddie and have lunch break at the same time. Freddie was fine with going to school alone and leaving John with Brian or leaving him with the nice teachers, but he wouldn't leave John all alone on his first day, for he was usually scared and timid around strangers. 

'What if they bully him? He won't defend himself or talk back. He'll just let it happen and we'll never even know!' Freddie was getting desperate, but so was Brian. 

'Freddie, listen to me. You'll be there to look after him. You can keep an eye on him during break and help him out wherever you can. Besides, John has been going to school with these people for three years now, surely he'll be fine. He's got his friends, Martha and Robbie, and he's got you. Now will you please say good bye to John, class is about to start.'

Freddie focused on the tips of his shoes, suddenly not interested in Brian anymore. He turned around slowly and waved at John, who was engaged in what was apparently a funny conversation with Martha and Robbie. John waved back enthousiastically and grinned. Brian nudged Freddie in the direction of his own classroom and gave John's teacher an apologetic look. 

About ten minutes later, Brian walked home. A weight suddenly lifted off him, the weight of not having to look after his boys every minute of the day. At last he had time to clean the house properly. At last he could relax with a nice, long book without being disturbed by children's voices. Now, don't get the wrong idea, Brian loved his kids dearly. They were everything for him, but even he could use a peaceful evening by himself, only if it were only one. Then it hit him: he could hire a nanny to take care of the boys while he took care of himself and his need to have at least one quiet evening to read a book. He was way behind on schedule on the astrophysics book he'd borrowed from the library... 

Just before Brian went to pick up Freddie and John from school, the advertisement was ready. He intended to place it in The London Times and he desperately hoped that someone would respond, otherwise he'd have to pay for another one of those expensive advertisement spaces. 

Looking for a nanny to look after two boys, seven and nine years old, in London, one evening a week, pay to be discussed, call [insert British landline number, idk dude]. 

The following day Brian saw his advertisement in full glory. It was small, for he couldn't afford a bigger one, but it was clear and hopefully it would attract at least one suitable nanny. He showed the ad to John and Freddie before they went to school, but as they didn't exactly care for newspapers, it went in one ear and out the other. 

Brian received two calls that day. One was from an elderly woman who thought it said that he was offering a nanny and thought he might want to look after her grandchildren while she went on a drugs weekend without her daughter knowing. The other was from a young man looking to make some extra money in order to pay bills. Brian surveyed him, asking basic questions like 'Are you a psychopath?' and 'Are you a child rapist?'. The answer was no, so Brian invited him to come over and discuss payment and on which days he'd take care of the boys. None of both men had anything to do other than eat lunch and dinner and go to bed, so they agreed that the meeting would be that very afternoon. 

In the rush, Brian had forgotten that there was a ton of unwashed dishes and the living room floor was covered with toys and drawings, which meant he had to frantically start cleaning up to make sure he'd come across as a good parent. An hour had nearly passed when the doorbell rang. Brian went to open it, and he was pleasantly surprised.

'Hey, I'm Roger Taylor. We talked on the phone?'

'Yes, of course. I'm Brian May. Come in, would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Anything?'Brian let Roger in and showed him the way to the living room. 

'No, thank you.' Roger sat down on the grey couch and started fiddling with the ring he was wearing on his pinky finger while looking at the attributes in the living room. 

'So, Roger, where do you go to college?' Brian thought it best to start the conversation lightly and turn it into a business meeting later on. First he wanted to get to know the man. 

'I go to Imperial College, I'm in the last year of my biology study. My grades are good, and my professors-' 

'I don't need to know about your grades or what your professors think of you, I was just inetrested in what you're interested in. I went to Imperial myself, I graduated two years ago. Tell me, do you happen to know if mrs. Anderson still teaches sociology there? I didn't take her classes, but she still hated me for some reason.'

'She does! Everybody in my class hates her for being a hypocrit and favouring girls.' 

'She still does that? That's sad to hear.' Brian smiled, for he suddenly found a topic he and Roger could both relate to. 'Alright, let's get serious. I heard from friends of mine that 8-10 pounds per hour is reasonable, do you agree?'

Roger smiled. 'Sir, if you pay me 10 pounds an hour to babysit two kids I'd be rich in no time. Are you sure about that?'

'I am. And please, by all means, call me Brian. None of that formal talk, I'm three years older than you at most.' 

'Alright then. Brian. When do I start?'