"Hello Mam," Delia said lightly as her portly mother sat down opposite of her in the tearoom they had arranged to meet at.
"Hello cariad," her mother said, before adding in a slightly stiff tone, "where's the other one? Did you finally give her the slip?" Delia fought very hard to not roll her eyes in irritation.
"Patsy had to go to Liverpool to see her father," she said instead, "don't act like you don't even know her name." Her mother harrumphed before pouring herself some tea.
"I didn't know she had a father," the older woman went on, "didn't you say they died in that camp?" Delia knew her mother wasn't naturally insensitive, that she was in fact trying to egg her on into a confrontation, but she refused to go for the bait. Exhaling slowly, the dark-haired woman smiled falsely at the other as she organized her thoughts.
"Patsy suffered greatly in the Internment camp…she lost her mother and her sister, though her father survived. From what I gather, her father is…complicated. He sent her to all these boarding schools and hardly even really knew her, especially when…"
Delia trialed off, realizing that she was beginning to breach a subject that she herself wasn't supposed to know; that the only reason she did know it was because Patsy was uncharacteristically drunk (it was the day of her sister's death) and had confessed it through hiccups and tears.
"When what?" her mother prompted, no longer sardonic about the topic. Delia fingered her mug, suddenly wishing she could melt into thin air. She could lie, yes, but to be quite frank, she felt isolated not being able to talk about her relationship with Patsy. Not only that, but her mother knew when she was lying; she was terrible at it.
Taking a deep breath, she made up her mind.
"The summer before Patsy went to nursing school, which would have been two or three years before she met me, she was living with her father in York. To make a long story short, her father caught her with one of her classmates…after that he kicked her out, though he would still send checks for rent and school loans."
"As he should have!" was all her mother said. This time Delia did roll her eyes. Her mother simply glowered back at her.
After a moment of tense silence, her mother asked tentatively, "When you say, 'caught her with one of her classmates'…"
Delia's eyebrows rose up into her hairline before her face turned a delicate shade darker.
"Mam!" she whispered, horrified.
"I'm just curious! How bad was it?"
Genuinely embarrassed now, Delia said quietly, "They were both…in a state of undress." Her mother sucked in an indignant breath as she drew herself upright in her chair.
"This is why I don't understand this, Delia Busby," her mother began in an unnaturally soft voice, trying to not be overheard, "when are you going to move on and start living a normal life?! Look at what you are risking!"
"Mother-" Delia breathed softly, shock covering her expression.
"Don't you 'mother' me! This is ridiculous! It's getting harder and harder to lie to your father! And all he wants is a grandchild! Lord, if he knew…if he knew the truth, that it would never happen, it would break his heart! Do you want that?!"
"Mam," Delia whispered, tears in her eyes, "I can't live what you call a 'normal' life! It doesn't feel right to me! I don't want to break dad's heart, but I also don't want to marry someone I don't love just to satisfy him!"
Her mother shook her head angrily before hissing, "Why did you ask to meet, then? Cut to the chase…we both knew we would end up arguing, might as well come out with it."
Delia looked down at the tablecloth, trying to think of the words to say.
Looking back up, she said delicately, "I wanted to ask for my inheritance."
A confused look came over her mother.
"Your inheri-"
Her mother broke off as realization dawned on her face. She knew what Delia was talking about now.
"Cariad," she cried softly, "you can't mean…"
"I do. I want the ring from Grandmother," Delia said in an overly calm voice. The ring in question was her father's mother's wedding band that was silver and hand Welsh etchings on it. Delia had been close with her grandmother, and when she passed, the ring was to be given to her when she asked for it.
Now was that time.
"Delia…" her mother simply said, too stunned to continue.
"I love her, mother," Delia said quietly, "I love her so much…I don't know what I would do without her…that's how it's supposed to be, right?"
"You don't know what you are asking," her mother whispered. In response, Delia wordlessly reached around her neck and pulled on a concealed chain. From the end she then plucked a small object up and held it so her mother could see it better. Her mother started at the sight of a ring with a large emerald set in the middle.
"Patsy gave it to me a little over a year ago," Delia said, almost dryly, "it's all she has to remind her of her mother, and she gave it to me. She said she knew we couldn't get married, but she liked to imagine we were." Her mother simply gaped.
Delia smoothly put it back before leaning in to her mother and saying, "I think I have a good idea about what I'm asking for."
For the first time, Delia liked to imagine she had her mother at a loss for words. She sat there for a good while, not moving, and when she finally did it was to sip her tea. Placing the mug delicately on the saucer, her mother dabbed her mouth with a napkin and then examined it for a period of time.
Speaking softly, her mother began, "I am sorry if I gave the impression that I did not give you enough credit…I know in my heart that you would never ask for it without meaning it. You are my only child, cariad, and I don't want to push you away over this. I might not understand you, but I can try. Just know that there are so many obstacles in your way, and I cannot be there to help you hurdle them."
Delia smiled gently and dipped her head in acceptance of her mother's words.
And for the first time she felt hope.
Mrs. Busby cleared her throat loudly before saying in a hoarse voice, "So – so it's pretty serious, isn't it? You and Patsy?"
Chortling, Delia responded, "Admit it, you like her!"
"She's very posh, I don't know…"
"Mam!" Delia said, nudging her with her elbow.
"Oh, I suppose, she seems to be able to handle you very well," her mother conceded, looking disgruntled.
Delia laughed. They conversed lightly, but it soon grew clear to Delia that her mother's patience was beginning to run thin, so they paid their ticket and parted ways, feeling a lot better than when they first entered the tearoom.