It was a truth universally acknowledged, that a single nurse in possession of a Saturday night without a shift, must be in want of a night on the town. However little or well know the feelings of such a nurse may be on completing a long and taxing week at work, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of their immediate family that their time is considered to be the rightful property of some one or other of their siblings.

Delia Busby sighed as she stared in the mirror, carefully applying a shade of lipstick just this side of risque. Although she loved her sister dearly, there were some evenings when she wished Trixie would just be content to stay home and watch television. It was exhausting to constantly go out on the pull. Not to mention expensive.

They were never going to save up enough to move out at this rate.

She blinked at herself, making sure her mascara had set clean. Smiled in satisfaction at the neat lines of her eye liner. She might not be particularly bothered going out, but no one could accuse her of not looking her best.

A thud on the adjoining wall made Delia smile. Wry.

"Come on Deels. Are you nearly ready? I booked the Uber for 9:45." Trixie's voice was muffled, but the walls of their 19th century home were thin and her sister's exasperation was more than evident.

"Hold your horses, Trix. I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll meet you downstairs then."

"Yes."

One last tug on dark hair, a final attempt to make it sit nicely. Blue eyes rolled at herself in the mirror, regretting for the millionth time letting Trixie talk her into getting a fringe. It was taking years to grow out, and Delia was so done with the wisps escaping from behind her ears and creating a halo. One hand smoothed the lines of her skirt, the other adjusted the scoop neck of her top so it revealed only the perfect amount of decolletage.

"As good as you're going to get Busby. Now get moving before Trixie has your hide."

Her reflection smirked back at her.

Trixie waited at the bottom of the stairs, nodded in satisfaction when she saw Delia's outfit. "You look wonderful Deels. The ladies won't know what hit them." Blue eyes sparkling.

"You clean up pretty well yourself Trix." A pause. "Not that you don't know that perfectly well."

"A girl always likes to hear it Delia. You'd do well to remember that."

They laughed, companionable. Interrupted by a notification pinging insistently on Trixie's phone.

"Oh, the car's here."

"We're off Mam. Don't wait up."

"Be careful girls." A thick Welsh accent filtered through the house. "And do try to meet the right sort of fellows." A pause. "And girls."

"Mam…"

"Don't Mam me, I'm your mother. I only want what's best for you."

"Bye Mam."

"Make sure you take jackets girls. It's sure to be chilly when you get in."

Blue eyes rolled in unison, a well practiced expression. But hands dutifully grabbed jackets from the coat rack on the way out of the front door. Some arguments weren't worth having.

Delia clutched soft leather as they sat in the back of the car, fingers stroking absently over the worn and well loved coat as Trixie flirted happily with the Uber driver. The jacket had been her big indulgence when her first nursing pay packet came through. It had seen her through cool spring mornings and chilly winter nights and several relationships, provided comfort and warmth and a water resistant surface that had repelled many a salty tear.

She shrugged it on now, stepping out of the car into the cool evening air. Rolled her eyes at the line stretching down the block.

"Trixie, please tell me that you have a plan to get in. If you think I'm waiting in that queue you've got another thing coming."

"Relax sweetie." Trixie blew a kiss to the driver, closed the car door, before turning to face her sister. "Fred's working tonight."

"Oh lord. Are you sure?"

"I spoke to Violet this morning when I got my hair done."

"Of course you did."

Delia trailed behind her sister as they bypassed the queue, made their way to the doorway. Naturally Trixie made the grandest entrance possible, her heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement.

"Hello Fred!"

The man at the door looked up from his form guide, his closely cropped grey hair shining in the harsh glare of the overhead light.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite pair of sisters." He stuffed the newsprint into his back pocket, a genial grin spreading across his face. "What are you lot up to then?"

"Well, we were rather hoping to slip in. Delia's been working ridiculously hard all week and she absolutely needs to let her hair down."

"Oh, you're a good girl Delia. I wish my Marlene worked half as hard as you."

"Thanks Fred." Delia smiled up at the older man, fond. "I can see Violet's cooking is starting to catch up with you again." Patted his stomach gently where the buttons of his white shirt strained to close over his belly.

Fred chuckled. "What can I say? My wife's the best cook in the world." Rueful.

"Tell her I'm going to need to come and beg some jam off her soon. We're all out, and shop bought is just not the same."

"I will, love. Now you two scoot inside before I get myself into trouble for standing out here chatting."

He ushered them through the entryway, nodding to the doorman to let them into the venue. The heavy door swung slowly, releasing a blast of electronic music and fetid air. Delia sighed, followed her sister into the fug of cologne, alcohol and inadequately masked body odour.

Pickings were exceedingly slim that evening. Delia eyed Trixie's gyrating form with some envy. The blonde had managed to snag one of the only good looking blokes in the whole place, and was now contentedly ensconced in his arms. Delia had fended off at least seven well meaning guys who needed a little encouragement to believe they were barking up the wrong tree.

She had noticed a tall, handsome woman watching this happen, a gleam of amusement in brown eyes. Thought she might be in with a chance there, but a drink was pressed into the woman's hands and arms looped around her waist.

A muttered expletive, a shrug. But there was no point being anything other than pragmatic about lost opportunities. She had enough stress in her life without adding to it.

A quick glance at her phone revealed the time to be far too early to expect Trixie to agree to leave, especially when it looked like she was getting on splendidly with her chap on the dancefloor. Delia decided on another drink to pass the time, and maybe a trip to the loo. Was about to step off to the bar when her passage was blocked by a stocky body clad in jeans and a button down shirt. She sighed, prepared to let down another guy, when she glanced up at the person's face.

She wasn't pretty, but there was something attractive in the line of her jaw, in the sweep of dark hair pushed back off her face. "You're not going are you?"

"Just to the bar."

"Dance first? Then I'll buy you a drink if you like."

Delia studied hopeful grey eyes. She seemed nice enough, and her eyes were an interesting colour.

"Alright then."

It was all going quite well until her grey eyed admirer kissed her. Delia wasn't against kissing in principle, she was usually quite happy to have a quick end of the night snog. They'd been dancing for quite some time, had a few drinks. She wasn't a bad dancer at all, this woman - whose name Delia had missed in introductions, and she'd felt too embarrassed to ask again.

So when she'd been pulled close, bodies flush, Delia had been quite content to let it happen. When their lips met though…

Nothing.

Not a glimmer of heat, no rush of passion. It was limp and awkward and Delia screamed internally while she composed her face into a careful smile.

Excused herself gracefully to find Trixie.

"Again Delia?" Exasperated.

"It's not like I'm doing it deliberately Trix! I can't help what I feel." Defensive.

"I know sweetie. I know."

The blonde had turned back to her dancing partner, spoken into his ear. Numbers quickly exchanged, and then the sisters wound their way through the crowded floor to the exit.

Delia was grateful for her coat as they stepped into the early morning chill. Sighed in relief as the doors closed behind them and she could breath deeply of relatively untainted air. Or as untainted as London air could be.

She listened peacefully as Trixie chatted excitedly about her evening. Made hopeful and affirmative noises in the right places, without investing too much energy into the conversation. She knew her sister. Knew there'd be a future date that didn't involve alcohol and dancing, and the shine would fade quickly.

One day Trixie was going to find a man who treated her well and captured her attention for more than a week, and for all their sakes she hoped it was soon.

One day she might even find a woman for herself too. One who could engage her mind and her senses and who could make Delia feel. Could make her lose herself in desire and lust and all the things the romance novels promised but her real life interactions never delivered.

Delia was so very tired of tepid kisses and lukewarm embraces. She wanted fire and heat and a raging incendiary passion that obliterated reason and sense and she wanted to throw herself into the inferno willingly. She longed for it in fact.

One day.