Patsy's heart jumps when she glimpses Delia's face through the banisters.
"Good afternoon Pats," Delia grins, looking up, "Sister Evangelina saw me waiting outside and made me come in."
"Good thing too," Patsy says as she makes her way downstairs, thinking about all the girls who have walked down these very stairs, all made up and coiffed for their date. "I don't want you standing in the cold. I'm ready to go if you-"
"Why hello Delia, how lovely to see you!" Trixie beams, strolling in from the kitchen arm-in-arm with Barbara, "I feel like we haven't seen you in an age, especially since you're spending so much time with this one!"
Patsy winces through Trixie's well-meaning poke in the ribs.
"Good to see you too, Trixie; Barbara," Delia grins.
"We started to think that perhaps she'd got a secret man and was using you as an excuse!"
Delia isn't able to catch her expression quite quickly enough, and Trixie pounces like a lioness.
"Is there a man, Delia? We can't trust Patsy for juicy details at all!"
"Leave her alone," Barbara says, blushing on Delia's behalf, "she doesn't deserve this."
"Very well. Delia, consider yourself spared for the moment."
"Now you've received a stay of execution, shall we depart?" Patsy says airily.
"I will find your secret, Nurse Mount!"
"Well it's not every day you get to spend an afternoon out on the town with a woman of mystery," Delia winks at Patsy and Barbara laughs.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Trixie calls after them.
"And to think, the man on the wireless said it would be clement today!" Patsy says as they emerge from the District Line, the rain coming down in sheets. "The weather was fine when we left! Do you think this rather ruins our plans?"
Delia smiles that smile that Patsy can't resist, and shakes her head. "Absolutely not."
They buy an umbrella from a street vendor, but it's too late and they are both already soaked. Delia puts the umbrella up anyway and Patsy huddles close. Their height difference makes it slightly awkward, but neither minds.
"Do you have an idea of where we should go?" Patsy asks as they stroll along, her arm folded through Delia's.
"Of course," Delia holds up her bag, "we're having our picnic in the park!"
"But it's-"
"Do you have the phrase 'come hell or high water' in England, Pats? How did you all win the war with that attitude?"
Patsy's shoes are sodden and squelch with every step, but with this perfect excuse to be so close to Delia, and the weather meaning there are hardly any people around, it's impossible to be disappointed. Delia leads the way with a spring in her step, and they walk along the tree-lined pathways of Richmond Park, down to the pond where ducks are enjoying the rain.
"Here we are," Delia's words are light, but her lips nearly brush Patsy's ear as she says them, and Patsy shivers a little.
"The bandstand! Of course. You're quite the genius."
Delia beams as she shakes the umbrella and sets down the picnic blanket. "Not as soft as the grass would have been, but it's dry and I'm with you, so it's perfect in my eyes."
Patsy doesn't have a response to that, so she helps Delia unpack the food and together they make their way through cheese sandwiches, half a pork pie, and a bottle of root beer. They sit close together; the blanket isn't large, after all, and sometimes Delia's hand brushes Patsy's as she reaches for a serviette. The ducks and Canada geese don't notice.
"I brought some pound cake-" Patsy starts, but a sudden flash of light interrupts her and startles them both.
"One elephant, two elephant, three elephant -" Delia counts, and they both wait for a moment. Sure enough, a deep rumble of thunder shakes the small wet patch of London. The girls shift a little closer together.
"I'm glad it's a long way off." Delia says, cutting a slice of cake, "I don't care much for thunderstorms."
"Singapore was full of thunderstorms," Patsy says, "some weeks there would be a storm every day."
Delia leans closer. "Really?"
"Yes, I was told the science behind it once but I'm afraid I've rather forgotten. Something to do with humidity levels. They were beautiful, though; giant arcs of purple that split the sky. My mother loved them."
Delia takes Patsy's hand. Not an accidental brush, but a warm grasp.
"Some evenings we would watch them out of the window."
Another flash lights up the sky. Delia counts in her head this time and gently squeezes Patsy's hand for each second. Eight. The thunder roars in the distance.
"When we were in the camp, I always used to wish and wish they would bring down the Japanese warplanes."
"You're safe now." Delia says quietly, firmly.
Patsy squeezes her hand back. "I know."
"Gracious, you're soaked through!" Trixie exclaims as she catches Patsy trudging into Nonnatus House and dripping puddles with every step. Patsy had insisted Delia take the umbrella home, and they'd stood arguing about it (getting steadily more soaked) for five minutes. "Come on, before Sister Evangelina spots you and forces you to mop everything up!"
Patsy hurries upstairs, where she sees that Trixie and Barbara have abandoned their plans to attend a concert in favour of playing rummy on Trixie's bed. Barbara waves.
"Don't just stand there dripping on the floor, get in the bath before you catch your death!" Trixie chastises, so Patsy does as she's told. When she returns from the bath, clad in striped pyjamas and damp hair twisted inside a towel, there's a mug of Horlicks waiting on her bedside table. Thunder is still rumbling outside.
"I can deal you a hand if you'd like to join us?" Barbara offers as she shuffles the pack with surprising dexterity for a vicar's daughter.
"Go on then, but you're not getting me to play for money."
"Sssh, Sister Julienne will hear you!" Barbara looks mortified at the idea.
"I don't know about you two loose women, but I'm on first shift in the morning and categorically refuse to stay up all night gambling!" Trixie raises her voice on the last word, sending Barbara and Patsy into a fit of giggles.
"Thanks awfully for the Horlicks, girls," says Patsy, once recovered.
"You're very welcome. Horlicks and pyjamas before 7pm, what thrilling lives we lead." Trixie says, adding a dram of something to her drink.
"Was the concert rather a bust in the end?"
"After all the fuss, we ended up not going; not with rain like that!" Trixie says, "I'm surprised you stayed out as long as you did. Was it a lovely time?"
"Rather," Patsy says, forcing down a lovesick smile.
Barbara deals them each a hand of cards and, careful to not disturb the nuns, they while away the evening together. Patsy wishes Delia were here (truth be told, it's rare that she doesn't feel the ache of her absence), but an evening with her friends is not an evening wasted.
She's never had friends quite like Trixie and Barbara before. Nonnatus House – not that she would ever tell Sister Evangelina – was never meant to be more than a stopping point. But she and the other midwives have developed a friendship like she's never known; the kind forged in battle, the kind on which men usually think they have a monopoly. In London she's gained better friends than she (brisk, icy-cold, secretive Patsy) ever dreamed.
And she never dreamed she'd one day have someone who would hold her hand through a thunderstorm.