"Where were you?"
"In Delia's room. She was just teaching me a new card game,"
Trixie stubbed out her Sobranie cigarette, perhaps a little more forcefully than she had intended. The little embers sparked briefly before fading to black amongst the ashes. A thin coil of smoke curled up towards the ceiling. Turning her head away, she stared at a point on the wall opposite and considered her next move.
She knew that Patsy was lying to her.
If tonight had been an isolated incident, Trixie would never have given Patsy's unusually dishevelled hair or rosy cheeks a second thought. She would not have looked twice at the creases in her nightshirt, nor even taken notice of the deep drags she was taking from the cigarette, which she was holding tightly between her index and middle finger. Alone, these were quite inconsequential details, and not worthy of any attention whatsoever, but tonight was not an isolated incident, and Trixie was very aware of that fact.
Her realisation that there was more going on beneath the surface than was being spoken of had been a gradual process. She could not say which individual event had confirmed her suspicions, but it was of little importance anyway. What mattered was that, as they sat there in silence in their shared bedroom, Trixie was certain that the conclusion that she had come to was correct. As a nurse, her trained eye was well-practised in observing symptoms, and she had now made her diagnosis.
She was ashamed to admit to herself that the reason she had initially taken an interest in Patsy and Delia's relationship was out of jealousy. Seeing how at ease they were in each other's company, and watching them come home together after various night-time excursions had made her wonder why it was that she and Patsy were not that close. There had even been occasions where she had jokingly commented on how Patsy would clearly prefer to be spending time with Delia and not her. They had both laughed at the time, but it had stung.
That jealously was gone now, but it had been replaced by a slight sadness. Did Patsy not feel able to confide in her? Trixie had, of course, made it clear on numerous occasions that she did not hold the same views as the law, but that did not seem to be enough to give Patsy confidence in her.
Should she say something?
Trixie's lips parted as she tried to find the right words to raise the subject, but before she could, the sharp ring of the telephone broke the quiet. It rang twice before she swung her legs over the bed and sat up.
"Well, that's my call to arms," she said brightly.
Patsy gave a small smile, and exhaled smoke through her nose. Trixie could not help but feel a small twinge of guilt. Clearly her earlier questioning regarding Patsy's whereabouts had upset her.
"I'll see you later then,"
Patsy nodded, "Yes. Good luck,"
The door swung shut, and Trixie hurried down the corridor. Immediately her mind switched from her concerns about Patsy to her concerns about whichever patient was calling. The other matter could be contemplated again at another more suitable time. For now, she had a job to do.