Nonnatus had been covered in a thick blanket of mourning. Delia felt as though her limbs were made of lead as she sat on the staircase with the midwives. She couldn't help thinking she was an intruder in this moment, that she had no right to be there. This was their loss, their tragedy.
She'd barely known Sister Evangelina. She wished she'd known her better. From what she'd seen of the nun and what Patsy and the others had told her she was a true powerhouse of a woman, unwavering in her dedication and loyalty, unerringly compassionate and loving, and downright terrifying when she needed to be.
She'd stumbled upon Patsy and Trixie sitting on the stairs when she'd come down expecting to get some breakfast. Patsy wouldn't look at her. Trixie tugged her down onto the step behind her and told her what had happened. She hadn't known how to feel then, only that it felt like something was sitting on her chest. Nurse Crane and Barbara joined them not long after, hemming her in on the stairs. That was some time ago. She wasn't sure how long. All she knew was that Barbara's sobs behind her, Trixie's sniffing in front of her, and Patsy's wet vacant eyes to her right were making if very difficult to control her own emotions. Seeing the way Patsy and Trixie absently passed a cigarette between them, their brows and chins tightening every now and then as they fought back a fresh wave of grief was hurting Delia's heart. She couldn't take much more of it. She had to keep holding her breath and staring up at the ceiling to prevent her own tears from falling. Her crying wasn't going to be any help to anyone.
"I'll go make a pot of tea," she whispered, carefully climbing past Trixie, squeezing her shoulder on her way, but absolutely not looking back at any of them as she scurried down the hallway to the kitchen. She hurriedly filled the kettle, placed it on the hob to heat, located the teapot and the box of tea, and the cups and the saucers and the sugar and the teaspoons and she gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned instantly white. Her breathing was coming ragged and sharp and she couldn't let any of them see her like this.
The back door had grown stiffer as the weather had gotten colder, so she had to give it a bit of a shove with her shoulder before it would open. It rattled a little and she hoped that no-one on the stairs had heard it as she snuck through, pushing the door too but not shut so she could sneak back in in a moment. She just needed to collect herself.
Unfortunately her body didn't seem to want to work with that idea, her chest now heaving as she fought back the sobs rising in her throat. She couldn't risk anyone seeing her like this She had no right. She needed to hide. Clumsily she stepped over a stack of empty flower pots and a bundle of bamboo canes into the space behind the garden shed. The wood was rough and prickly against her forehead as she let the tears track down her face, a keening moan quietly escaped her throat and she balled her hands into fists, digging her short nails into her palms. She braced her arms against the shed and pressed her face against them, hoping to muffle her sobs, hoping to hide from the world.
There was a slight clatter of ceramic against concrete from behind her and a pair of hands were on her shoulders, turning her round and drawing her against a warm, solid body. "There there kid. You let it out."
As soon as it registered who was holding her Delia stepped back, wiping furiously at her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. "I'm sorry, Nurse Crane, I'm all right, you don't need to worry about me."
Nurse Crane looked at her sceptically and sighed. "I'd be more inclined to believe you Nurse Busby if you weren't hiding behind the shed."
Delia hung her head, unwilling to meet the older woman's eye. "It just felt disrespectful, crying in front of everyone when it's their loss not mine. I don't even no why I'm crying, it's so frustrating," she admitted as a fresh wave of tears spilled down her face.
Phyllis reached out and clasped Delia's hand. "There's no disrespect in reacting to the pain your friends are feeling Delia. It's called empathy. And getting frustrated will only make it harder."
"But they need me to be strong, to keep it together while they grieve." The sobs were trying to intensify again, and Delia really didn't want to give into them. But when Phyllis pulled her into her arms again they developed and mind of their own and they wanted out.
"That is not your responsibility lass. You can be strong for them but that doesn't mean you have to bottle away your own feelings. And I wonder if some of this might be your own pain bubbling to the surface." Phyllis pulled back a little, Delia could feel her eyes on her. "You suffered quite a serious trauma almost exactly a year ago. And I'll wager there's a lot of unresolved emotion still in there that's taking advantage of this opportunity to relieve some pressure."
Delia huffed. "I wish it wouldn't, it's hardly a convenient time."
"Nothing's ever convenient when it comes to feelings like these kid." Phyllis began rubbing her hands up and down Delia's arms. It was only then that she realised she was shivering. "That's why it doesn't do to bottle things up. They have a habit of deciding they want to come out when you least want them to." The senior nurse smiled down at her kindly. "Now then, I'll see if I can get the girls off the stairs and then you can head up to your room for a bit."
Another clatter caused both their heads to whip around, a brief flash of red hair disappearing behind the corner of the shed identifying the intruder.
"Oh Patsy no!" Delia wailed, turning away from the garden as another wave of sobs crashed over her.
Phyllis sighed beside her. "I think I'd better make myself scarce. Nurse Mount, she's all yours."
"Sorry Nurse Crane."
Delia heard one set of footsteps retreat and then another approach as she desperately tried to regain control of her emotions. "Please Patsy go away."
"And why would I want to do that Deels," Patsy asked. Delia could feel her standing very close behind her.
"Because I don't want you to see me like this. Not when you've got all this to deal with," Delia pleaded, but allowed herself to be turned and pulled against her love, quietly grateful that the circumstances essentially allowed for such a rare public display of affection.
"You daft old thing Deels, just because I'm rubbish at letting my emotions out it doesn't mean you're not allowed to." Patsy stroked her hair, planting a quick kiss on her temple. "You know you can cry around me."
Apparently that was the last straw, the floodgates inside Delia opening, all the pain, the confusion and anger surrounding her accident, about re-remembering who and what she was, about the battle she had to fight to get back to London and to her love slowly started the process of draining, like a lanced blister. It would take more than this moment for it all to go away completely, but here safe in Patsy's arms, it was a start.