#nickmason

When the colours fade

Chapter 27

March 1974

If Victoria could have recorded that mid-January morning on a tape, she would have. In any case, every fragment of those minutes remained etched in her mind, vivid, and very often she replayed it like a movie in her head.

"You look at it, I don't have the courage," she had said to David, handing him the pregnancy test she had just taken.

Leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, David had taken the plastic test stick from her and waited. A handful of seconds or maybe minutes, he couldn't tell. What was certain was that he had picked up the box again to read the instructions on the back, frowning.

"Two lines means positive, right?"

Victoria had looked up at him and seen him smile.

Suddenly, her heart leaped in her chest, and unable to contain her happiness, she threw herself at David, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"Hey, easy, easy..." He had taken a step back under the weight of her, who literally had clung to him with all her strength, threatening to make him lose his balance.

"Sorry... I can hardly believe it."

Victoria continued to turn the stick in her hands, observing it longer than necessary. Yes. It was definitely positive.

"Listen..." David then had said to her. "Maybe you shouldn't overexert yourself this time."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, I'm just saying that this time you shouldn't make unnecessary efforts."

Victoria’s face had darkened for a moment. "Are you saying it's my fault if..."

"No, Vicky..." David had cupped her face in his hands. "I would never think such a thing, don't even say it. I mean, maybe it would be better if you rested a little more.”

So Victoria had spent much of the next two months at home, reading, listening to music, or watching movies. When she could—or simply when she was bored—she went to the store, but she kept work and stress to a minimum. Judith had proven to be a crucial presence: not only did she help her with the more demanding tasks, but she had proven to be a valuable friend and a reliable professional.

Except that lately, she had been rather distracted and always with her head in the clouds. Victoria had noticed, and she had already begun to form some idea of ​​what was happening to her friend: it was no secret that she and Roger argued frequently; in the time she had known them, there had been few moments when she had seen them truly happy. But lately, she seemed worse than usual.

"If you keep thinking so hard, you'll end up dizzying me."

"What?" Judith awoke from the trance she seemed to have fallen into. She turned to Victoria who was watching her, eager to know what was going on in her head so much that she hadn't said a single word all morning.

"Is something worrying you?"

"No, nothing... thoughts, that's all," Judith replied distractedly.

"And these thoughts, by any chance, begin with R and end with oger?"

Judith didn't answer. There was indeed a man who had been inhabiting her mind for some time, but he didn't respond to the name of her husband. Ever since that kiss with Mark, Judith hadn't been the same.

There were days when she wondered when it had started. Not that kiss, but that crack that had suddenly opened and that she no longer knew how to close; that emptiness she felt inside that she couldn't fill. She had always been sure of her feelings for Roger: he was brilliant, ingenious, magnetic... but lately it was as if he had become a shadow of his former self; consumed by work, absorbed in ideas, anger, invisible struggles. Talking to him often meant arguing. One misstep, one badly said word, and everything would catch fire.

While she, on the other hand, was fading more and more every day.

She wanted to tell her that yes, things with Roger were getting worse, that he was always wrapped up in his work and never had a moment for her.

Mark, on the other hand… Mark had noticed her, he was ruthlessly courting her and never stopped making her feel desired despite her reticence. She knew sooner or later she would give in. He made her feel alive, a woman, even beautiful. He told her she had intelligent eyes, that he liked the way she reasoned; he gave her space, he listened to her. And every time Roger spoke to her only to complain… she thought of Mark.

Judith took a deep breath. She needed to talk, to lighten that burden, but then she thought about what it would mean to say it now.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Victoria insisted softly.

Judith took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, nothing. It's just a little stress, that's all.”

Victoria gave a small smile; She didn't want to insist, but inside she was disappointed by her friend's silence. "Okay. Just know that whenever you want, I'm here."

Judith nodded and returned to her duties, while the truth continued to beat inside her, silent and insistent.

*

The smell of electrical wires, vinyl, and cigarettes permeated the air of Studio Three.

David was hunched over his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. Every now and then he looked away and toward the door: there were moments when he didn't want to be there. Ever since Victoria had become pregnant again, he felt the constant urge to run to her and be by her side: lately, she had become much more fragile, almost always on the verge of breaking; and if that happened, he didn't want her to be alone.

Steve's entrance into the studio brought him out of his thoughts.

The manager entered with a quick step and the expression of someone who had no time to waste.

"Guys," he began without preamble. "EMI expects another album. And not in 1980, we're talking this year, next year at the latest. You've already sold more than they could have imagined, but now they want the follow-up.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Oh, for God's sake. Steve, we're not a miracle factory."

"I'm not saying you should churn out another Dark Side, but the word 'expectations' here is a euphemism, and there are a lot of them."

"Of course, because if we wait too long, we risk turning into human beings," the bassist replied sarcastically. "Inspiration takes time."

"Absolutely. But time is money."

"We have something," Nick interjected. There were so many drafts they'd accumulated over the years, only to be dug out much later to be transformed into something else. This time, too, would be no different. "It's just that we're far from having a real album."

Steve turned to David, who throughout all this had never looked up from his guitar and seemed to be elsewhere. "What do you think, Dave?"

David slowly looked up. "I say that we shouldn't force something to be born.”

He stood up, put his guitar on the chair, and without another word, went out to get some fresh air, everyone's eyes on him.

But Steve didn't pay much attention. At that moment, the only thing that worried him was the pressure from EMI.

"Okay, look, no one's holding a gun to your head, but we have to at least give an answer, even a vague one, but a positive one. You say you're already working on something..."

"We're already working on it, Steve," Roger replied annoyed.

Meanwhile, outside the studios, low clouds raced above the buildings, driven by a cold wind that cut into the skin and burrowed into the bones; the fine rain fell like a veil, fogging the windows of the parked cars and making the asphalt shiny as a black mirror.

David lit a cigarette, shielding his face with his hand. He needed air. The door to Abbey Road Studios closed behind him with a muffled thud.

He sat on the steps and looked out at the nearly deserted street before him: cars speeding by, a few pedestrians with umbrellas. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting the ash fall to the ground.

His thoughts inevitably turned to Victoria, he couldn't help but think about it, about the life growing inside her and the possibility—remote, close, unmanageable—that everything could go wrong... again.

They hadn't expected it the first time; they didn't even know how it should feel. Joy had arrived, but also that naive lightheartedness that the mere fact of expecting a child guaranteed a happy ending.

Then it happened.

That trickle of blood running down her leg.

And Victoria, still, when she'd noticed.

Still for days, weeks.

And he, feeling completely useless.

He wanted to protect her from everything, but how do you protect someone from their own body? How do you fight an invisible enemy hiding beneath your skin?

He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he heard the door behind him open and close again.

"Oh, there you are," Nick's voice was unmistakable: always calm, quiet, and with a hint of irony that he used when he didn't know what to say. "I thought you'd run away."

"I needed some air."

Nick sat down next to him and glanced distractedly at the sky before looking at David.

"Is Vicky okay? She hasn't been in touch in a while. Lindy tried calling her a couple of times, but she didn't seem in the mood to talk."

David took a slow breath, as if choosing his words carefully. Then he said it. Softly. Under his breath. "She's pregnant."

Nick remained still, not surprised but struck. "Well... that's good news, isn't it?"

David ran a hand over his mouth, unsure whether to smile or shake his head. "Yeah... I mean, it should be."

A thin silence crept between the two. Nick didn't say anything, waiting for David to do so first.

"We haven't told anyone this time. Not her mother, not my parents. It's still early."

"I understand." Nick nodded and lowered his gaze. “Because of... last time?"

David glanced at him sideways. Just for a moment. Then he returned his gaze to the sidewalk and nodded.

Nick took a deep breath. He wasn't good with words in serious moments, but he was there, and that mattered.

"Lindy's more than halfway there. And every time I go to sleep, I look at her and think, 'What if something changes tomorrow?'"

David looked at him. It was rare to hear him speak like that, without jokes, without filters.

"You know,” Nick continued. "When you're expecting a child, everyone tells you how wonderful it will be, but no one tells you that every second is a fear that creeps under your skin. You feel responsible for something you can't control. And it's a horrible feeling."

"That's what scares me," David admitted. "Not being able to do anything. Just being there"

"Being there isn't ‘just being there', it's everything. She'll feel she's not alone."

Nick paused; David didn't add anything, but his silence was worth a thousand words.

"But you know what I realised?" Nick continued. "That being afraid doesn't make you weaker. It already makes you a father.”

David narrowed his eyes. Those simple words hit him like a gentle slap.

“Already a father..." he repeated to himself. "Thanks, Nick."

"You're welcome. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Not even Roger, although it might help him to know there's still good news."

David smiled softly. "No, with him, we'll wait at least seven months."

Nick smiled back.

The two stood there for a moment longer. Then, as if the world could resume its course, they turned and walked back into the studio together.

*

The evening had passed slowly, without any rush.

They had eaten dinner, talking about light things. David was watching her more than usual, the way she ate slowly, or the way she placed her hand on her belly without realising it.

They went to bed early. Victoria slipped under the covers with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder; David kissed her hair and stayed there until her breathing became slow and regular.

Then, in the middle of the night, when everything was still and silent, Victoria woke suddenly.

Not by a noise. Nor by a nightmare.

But by something more subtle and sinister, which had disturbed her sleep, leaving her with confused dreams.

She remained still for a few seconds. Beside her, David was sleeping soundly, turned toward her.

Her heart was pounding too fast, then she felt a strange sensation in her lower abdomen, a dull, moist heat.

She sat up and turned on the lamp, its yellow light filling the room. Then she pulled back the covers and looked down.

The sheet was wet: a small circle of blood was slowly spreading beneath her.

"No..." Her voice was a whisper, and her laboured breathing was the only sound piercing the silence in the room.

She stared at the stain for a few moments, unable to move or speak. Only one syllable escaped her lips: "No!", so loud this time that it woke David, who took a moment to understand what was happening, thinking Victoria had been awakened by some nightmare.

But the nightmare was so real he could see it, touch it, and feel it.

"Vicky!"

"NO!"

David turned, saw the blood beneath her, and pulled her close, hugging her tightly as she gave way to a desperate cry that emptied her insides, so loud she could no longer breathe.