Life on the Farm

Rockfield Farm, 1975

"Recording studio?" cried Roger, his boots squelching in the mud as they stepped out of the car.

"The idea was to get away from all distractions," explained Paul, retrieving their luggage from the trunk of the car.

"And go to the edges of civilization? This place looks like it will fall over if you shut a door too hard."

"No rough sex then," resolved Freddie with a smirk. No one was quite sure who that remark was directed at.

"Come on, I'll show you inside. Freddie, I've got your suitcase." Paul gestured for them to follow him.

As they headed inside, Roger reached out towards a chicken who was walking along the fence, jumping back when it turned towards him. Mal laughed as he ran to catch up to them.

Ignoring Roger's complaints, Paul showed them inside and directed everyone to their rooms. "Now I know it's not the Ritz, not even close, but here we are. Lots of great albums have been recorded here! All right-" They reached the top of the stairs. "-Freddie, you're here, biggest room. Roger you're there, next door."

"All right."

"Brian you're across the hall here, and Mallory, right next to your brother."

"Of course." Mal went inside, tossing her suitcase onto the bed.

"And you're downstairs, John."

"Could've told me that before I walked upstairs," John sighed, hauling his luggage back downstairs.

Mal went over to the window of her room and looked out over the farm. She had a perfect view of the chickens.

She jumped onto her bed, collapsing onto her back staring up at the wooden ceiling. The bed-frame screamed and groaned in protest - it was an extremely creaky bed.

Feeling like she might change, then go for a walk and explore, she got up to shut the door.

"Mal." She looked across the hall to see Roger's door open a crack, his head of blond hair just peeking out. He made a face, making her laugh, before both slipped into their rooms.

That night, Mal opened her door a crack - wincing as it creaked - and tip-toed across the hall to a certain blond's room.

"Rog?" she whispered and softly tapped on the door. "May I come in?"

Roger sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, come on in."

"Oh sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no, Love, that's fine."

"My room's bloody freezing!" she cried, stepping inside and shutting the door. "I don't think the window shuts all the way. Shove over." She moved back the blankets and climbed in next to him, instantly warmer. "Also, I barely breathe and the bed creaks, and it's driving me mad."

"Not too much better here, I'm afraid," Rog said, bouncing up and down a little, making the bed creak.

"I can't believe we're really here, really doing this," she whispered up at the dark ceiling after a moment of comfortable silence between them.

"What? Sharing a bed? It's happened before, if you've forgotten." Even in the dark, she could sense him smirking.

"No, silly!" He laughed when she smacked his arm. "I mean here, in a band, working on an album. An album! With a manager, and a record label! And a lawyer for God's sake! It's brilliant!"

"I know - bloody hell your feet are cold!" he cried when hers brushed his.

"I told you my room's cold!"

"Stop moving!" he laughed - every movement they made made the bed creak.

"I'm trying to get comfortable!" She snuggled under the blankets and felt Rog's arm go around her waist.

"How's that?"

"Much better."

"Warm enough?"

"Yes."

"Night, Mal."

"Goodnight, Rog."

The band had a few days to settle in and get themselves organized before the serious recording process would begin. Everyone was tasked with writing a song for the new album.

"I put my heart and soul into that song," Roger huffed as he cooked breakfast the next morning.

"No one is disputing that," John assured him.

"And you don't like it because you want your songs on the album."

"Aww, he's pouting," said Mal.

"It's not that, Roger."

"What is it then?"

Brian looked up from his plate. "'I'm in Love With My Car'?"

Mal tried and failed to resist a snort of laughter.

"What?" cried Rog, defending his song.

"Maybe it's not strong enough."

"What does that even mean? 'Not strong enough'?" demanded Rog.

"I know I'm late, put it on me." Freddie entered the kitchen, grabbing a teacup.

"We're discussing Roger's car song," John informed him.

"Is it strong enough? That's all I'm asking," said Brian. Poor Rog looked personally attacked. "If I'm on my own here, then I apologize." He held up his hands in a surrendering manner.

"How does your new song go then?" demanded Roger, picking up Brian's notes. The others winced, having already read Brian's lyrics. Roger read off them. "'You call me sweet like I'm some kind of - cheese'?!"

"Yeah..." Brian was nodding, all eyes now on him. "It's good."

"Wow!" Roger feigned amazement.

"'Cheese' is the sweetest thing you could come up with?" Mal laughed at her brother. "Not even chocolate or something like that?"

"Oh yeah, well, how about, 'When my hand's on your grease gun'," Brian shot back, now reading from Roger's lyrics. "That's real subtle, isn't it." Now both Mal and John were trying to hide laughter.

"It's a metaphor, Brian!" defended Roger.

"For what?" Mal raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"Yes, it's just a bit weird, Roger. I mean what exactly are you doing with that car?" asked John.

"I'm all for the metaphors and similes," Mal spoke up. "I'm just not so sure about the cars and cheese."

"Children please," broke in Freddie. "We could all murder each other over our songs but then who would be left to record this album?"

"Statistically speaking, most bands don't fail, they break up," John said.

"Why the hell would you say something like that?" cried Freddie. John just shrugged. Freddie turned to the still fuming blond. "Roger, there's only room in this band for one hysterical queen." He poured himself some tea and took it outside.

"I know why you're upset, Roger," Brian continued their argument.

"Oh, and why's that?" challenged Rog.

"Because you know your song's not strong enough."

Roger stood staring at him for a moment before he picked up a handful of the potatoes he had been cooking and tossed them at Brian, who just continued to sip his coffee despite getting hit in the face with the food. "Is that strong enough for you?!"

"Oh, now you've done it," winced Mal.

Next Rog swiped all the dishes off the counter. "How about that?!" He swung around, grabbing the nearest small appliance.

"NOT the coffee machine!" Brian and John shouted before he could toss that at them as well. Their breakfasts had just been thrown onto the floor but God forbid anything happen to the coffee. Mal just laughed.

Haha, love that scene so much, one of my favourites in the movie! ;) We'll see how Mal and Rog do keeping their secret while everyone's living together... Haha!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :)