Patsy always felt such a mix of panic and dread whenever she was called into Sister Julienne's office. Clearly, this was when it all came out. This was the end of their respective careers. Even in 1963, the midwife knew that she would be out on the streets if her deviancy were discovered. Delia would be fired from The London, and they would huddle together in the Underground with a suitcase between them. The English cold would freeze them both as they begged for food.
Yes, evidently Patsy had given this much thought.
However, Sister Julienne gave her a kind smile as she held open the door to let her in. Perhaps Patsy was making something out of nothing.
"You've been keeping secrets Nurse Mount" the sister smiled.
Maybe Patsy wasn't being paranoid after all. She pushed a smile onto her face. Inside however she shivered and awaited the final blow. At least she would go down with her dignity intact.
The nun sat behind her desk and motioned for Patsy to sit opposite her.
"Whatever do you mean sister?" she asked with a practiced grin.
"The other day you had a young man, Gerald Harvey, collapse at your scout group. Apparently you revived him using the new American technique" she paused as she searched for the words.
"Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation or CPR sister" Patsy answered for the older woman.
In her efforts to be up-to-date on the latest she had attended a training seminar in Manchester in the spring. She had jumped at the opportunity to learn from a Red Cross nurse in person rather than subsist on what she had read in nursing journals. It had also coincided nicely with Delia's spring holidays so they had gone together. She had gotten the NHS to pay for the trip by emphasizing that the two nurses could economize by sharing a room. They had gone for it like a fish and a baited hook.
So, when Gerald had fallen like an uneven pile of bricks Patsy had snapped into action. Her nursing instincts took over and she had gotten him breathing again. She had given him some water and told his parents that they should take him into see a doctor immediately. It had unnerved her to see a young man grow so ashen, however she was grateful that now she could bring him back. Before she would have had to wait for an ambulance, and he would have surely died or had damage from lack of oxygen.
Still she had reported this event to Nurse Crane afterward, and made known that she would appreciate a follow up if necessary. Nothing had been updated for her since then, so she just assumed that the young man was fine. She had no idea what any of this had to do with why she was sitting here.
"It was no secret Sister. Nurse Crane was informed and I've not heard anything since then" she said in a clipped voice.
A smile danced across Sister Julienne's face. She clasped her hands in front of her.
"Well, it seems that your young scout, Mister Harvey, is the son of a political figure. Upon hearing of your work he has called the newspapers and they want to do a story on yourself & our work" she announced.
Patsy visibly shrunk.
"A reporter wants to do a story on myself?" she said shocked.
"Yes, he will be in tomorrow to ask you a few questions when you return from district rounds" Sister Julienne smirked as she saw Patsy squirm.
"Sister, I'd rather not be included in this, maybe rather Trixie or Barbara…" she rambled uncomfortably.
"Nurse Mount. I know that you like to be reserved, however this is to promote our work. Just think of it that way" she said closing the book on the topic.
Oh no, Patsy thought. Oh dear.
Delia laughed for a good ten years after Patsy told her about her upcoming interview. At least it seemed that way.
"Really Deels, you could be a little less amused at my misfortune" Patsy said irritated.
"Oh my god, I can already hear it Pats" Delia chortled in her dulcet welsh tone. "So Nurse Mount" she started in a faux reporter voice complete with imaginary microphone "How is it that you haven't been snatched up by a young man yet?" she laughed. Then turning toward an imaginary camera in front of her she composed herself into her best Patience Mount impression as she answered, "Sir, Having had Delia Busby in bed, I knew that I could never be satisfied by a man".
"Deels!" Patsy shouted in exasperation. The brunette simply collapsed in giggles on her bed.
After a few moments, Patsy lit a cigarette and stood with a face of thunder.
"Are you quite done yet?" she said irritated.
Delia turned toward her while still lying on the bed. She laid out on her side with one hand propped up and holding her head.
"Oh cariad, It's just a dumb news interview. I mean you've already been pictured in your leotards, how can this be any more embarrassing" she smiled.
"You know that I hate talking about myself" she took a drag on her cigarette.
"He won't ask anything controversial and if he does just say "No comment" and move on" the welsh woman instructed.
Patsy finished her cigarette and took a deep breath. Perhaps it was best just to calm down about all this. She was most likely making something out of nothing. Sitting down on the bed beside her girlfriend she lowered herself onto her back. As Delia sidled up beside her, she felt the brunette trace her free hand slowly from her neck to her hips. She began tracing circles along Patsy's stomach slowly easing her hands below her checkered shirt. Sighing Patsy looked up into her lover's eyes.
"Perhaps, I should tell him about my gorgeous Welsh girlfriend who leads me to require resuscitation whenever I look at her" she whispered.
"As your publicist, I'd advise against that" she said huskily as she lowered her lips to meet her girlfriends.
Everything had been going swimmingly until the end when the inevitable inquiry came.
"So, what I don't understand is why there is no Mr. Mount on the scene?" he asked looking up hopefully
Patsy couldn't help but smirk. She almost felt sorry for this young man who had proven to be so predictable. Upon first seeing him waiting in the front parlor of Nonnatus, she had noted his youth and dress. He had on a leather jacket and pullover blue sweater like he was Steve McQueen. Patsy had not been impressed by this fashion attempt, as she had excused herself to change out of her nurses uniform. She desperately wanted to run a comb thru his hair for one thing. Such sloppiness made her even less impressed.
"I'm married to my job. Nothing else interests me at the moment" she said as she took a sip of her tea.
He clapped shut his notebook. They both rose as she led him to the door.
"Well, I think I've got enough to write my story" he said as he extended his hand.
Patsy shook it and held the door for the reporter to leave. He stopped and lingered in the doorway for a moment.
"Miss Mount" he said haltingly. "If you do ever have a night free, I've got seats at the Troubadour any night. Just have to make a call" he said with a wink.
"I don't think so" she said with a tight smile "I'll look for the story in the paper tomorrow. Thank you" she finished as she closed the door.
Upstairs in their shared room, the questions began immediately.
"So was he good-looking? Dashing? Come on details sweetie" Trixie asked buzzing with excitement.
Patsy sighed and leaned back onto her bed. Sitting up against the headboard she lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly.
"Not my type Trixie, but you can have him for yourself" she said as she exhaled.
"I don't think that you even have a type Patsy" the blonde nurse said resigned as she went back to flipping through her magazine.
Seeing that Trixie had sufficiently become disinterested she finished her cigarette.
"So where's your other half tonight?" Trixie asked without looking up. Patsy stifled a gulp.
"What do you mean?" she croaked out.
"Well, you're usually only here with me if Delia's not available so…" Trixie said with a bit of snippiness in her voice.
"It's just that her and I aren't always able to spend time together, so when we can we take advantage. That is all it is" she said desperately trying to convince.
The blonde nurse looked up from her Vogue. She sighed as she looked Patsy in the eyes with her best grin on.
"I know Patsy. And it's fine" she nodded reassuringly.
Patsy's mouth fell open but no sound came out. Trixie held up a hand to stop her from forming words.
"Oh sweetie, you don't need to say anything. In fact, please don't for the sake of both our jobs" she said with grim resignation.
Tears pricked at Patsy's eyes, as she realized how lucky she was to have such a friend. A big ball suddenly filled her throat, which she desperately tried to swallow down. Wiping her eyes she wiped the few tears that managed to escape.
"Thank you Trixie" she said softly.
Patsy saw the small nod that Trixie had heard her. They sat in silence for a moment trying to get past the monumental moment that had just happened between the two women. Finally, Trixie held up a page from her magazine for Patsy to see. It was a picture of a glamorous blonde advertising perfume or something.
"Do you think she's attractive? Because I just don't think she holds a candle to Princess Grace" she asked more to herself than anyone else.
Patsy just rolled her eyes and got her own pajamas for bed.
In the end it had all amounted to a quarter inch of the paper in the feature section. Still Patsy was incensed.
"That's not what I said! He misquoted me" she declared with disdain.
She threw the paper down on Delia's bed in mock fury. The brunette snatched it up with an impish grin.
"Well, you shouldn't have turned him down then! I mean he had a leather jacket and everything" she smirked.
"Where are you taking that? Straight to the waste paper basket I hope" Patsy pleaded.
"Oh no! This is going in my box of treasures right along with that other article with you and Barbara at Keep Fit" she said as she grabbed scissors to cut it out.
Patsy thought for a moment.
"Deels! How did you get a copy of that article? You were still in Wales when it was published" she asked with an arch eyebrow.
"I have my ways" she said wiggling her eyebrows and laughing. "Patience Mount" she pointed toward her girlfriend "I've always got my eyes on you."
A/N: Just a one-shot. However, I thrive from feedback so please feel free to leave a review should you want more.
