Patsy slumped forward onto the worktop in the kitchen of Nonnatas house. She buried her head in the crook of her arm and began to sob, uncontrollably. She was not too worried about anyone witnessing this; she had checked that everyone was asleep before her decent down the old wooden staircase. To her friends she had blamed her lack of sleep on insomnia but she knew the real reason. Ever since losing her love she had felt like a part of her was missing. Granted Delia was alive but to Patsy losing her memory was as bad as losing her altogether; to not be able to hold her as she once had or talk about their secret future. Patsy was sick to death of having to put on a brave face. Pretending to the Sisters and Trixie that she was fine and just a bit sad for a 'Friend' broke her heart, even more so, each and every day. 'That was one thing Delia was wrong about,' thought Patsy. 'I don't cope better with facades.'

Tears were still pouring down her cheeks, like a fountain she was unable to switch off, when she heard the floor board creek just outside of the kitchen. She quickly wiped her face with her pin-striped pyjama sleeve and had barely composed herself when Sister Monica Joan rounded the corner and stood in front of Patsy, wearing her modest night-gown.

'Sister Monica Joan,' whispered Patsy, desperately trying to control the tremor in her voice. 'Whatever are you doing down here at this time of night?'

'I felt a great sadness drift passed my bedroom door earlier and when the sound of sobbing ascended to the second floor I felt the desperate need to investigate,' replied the caring nun.

Unable to hold in her complete devastation for a second longer, Patsy buckled. She collapsed onto her knees and began to hyperventilate. Her tears made water tracks down her perfect jaw-line, her hands fell loosely by her side like pendulums, her head and shoulders bowed as if in prayer; mourning the loss of her lover. Sister Monica Joan crept closer to Patsy, over the years she had acquired a calming nature and a wealth of knowledge. She knew the tears that the young nurse was shedding were neither the tears of losing a friend nor the stress of insomnia, they were the tears of having your heart ripped out and stamped upon. Sister Monica Joan daren't say the word out loud but her sympathies were with young Patsy, whoever she loved.

Sister Monica Joan placed her calming hands on either side of Patsy's face and lifted it up. She could see the pain and sadness, in the nurse's eyes, immediately. 'Do not mourn the loss of a loved one. Rejoice. God has spared her life. One must assume it is for a higher purpose. Do not convince yourself that the loss of memory is a loss of self. You must fight. If not for your own sake then for hers.' Sister Monica Joan moved a strand of hair that had fallen over Patsy's face and tucked it behind her ear. 'Such beauty masked by such sadness,' and with that stood up and walked back out of the door grabbing a digestive biscuit from a china plate on the table.

Patsy placed her palms on the floor and hoisted herself up. She rubbed her temples; her head was aching from all of the crying. She felt an intense relief. Even though she hadn't spoken to the Sister she had felt able to grieve and share that with someone. Sister Monica Joan thought no less of her for it. Patsy was unsure how much the Sister had figured out but either way her reaction was gratefully received. Patsy headed towards the door, she was suddenly aware of how cold the kitchen was. Grabbing a biscuit from the same china plate she began to jog upstairs, taking two of the steps with each stride. She slowly edged open the door to her room, careful not to wake Trixie, and slipped inside. She took the empty whiskey bottle from the bedside table that was nestled between the two single beds and placed it on their make-shift 'bar'. She'd been meaning to speak to Trixie about her night-caps but was too absorbed with her own issues. 'I must make time to catch up with Trix,' she thought as she pulled back the covers on her bed. After slipping into her fresh bed, Patsy turned onto her side to switch the lamp off, tucked under the base of the lamp was the ticket stub from her and Delia's trip to the Square Dance. She allowed her fingers to slip down from the lamp and run over the ticket stub. Another tear gleamed in her eye but she blinked it back before sighing and turning the lamp off. In the darkness she felt alone again. 'Sister Monica Joan was right, I can't give up now. I can't give up on Delia. I promised her we won't live as we were. She was never a ghost to me and she will not start being one now.'

Daylight creeped in through the thin curtains, Patsy had always been a light sleeper but she was so exhausted from the previous night she continued to sleep. For a brief moment, in her dreams, nothing had changed. Trixie was busy getting ready when she realised Patsy was still asleep. She glanced over as she was buttoning her cardigan, ready for her shift ahead. Trixie made her way over to Patsy's bed and knelt beside her. Her hand hovered over Patsy's arm, she hated waking her up. 'Patsy...you've overslept darling,' whispered Trixie as she shook her arm. Patsy's eyes opened slowly as she groaned with tiredness. 'Sorry, love, I just know today is the day Delia leaves for Wales and thought you might have wanted to see her.' Patsy had been so blissfully unaware in her sleep that for a moment she forgot all about Delia leaving. That woke her up fairly swiftly. She swung her legs out of the bed and thanked Trixie for waking her. Delia wasn't scheduled to leave the hospital until mid-day but if Patsy was going to stop her leaving she had best get a move on. She reasoned that it shouldn't be too difficult to get Delia to stay in Poplar; after all her mother was in no condition to look after Delia 24/7. At least if Patsy took over her care she would have a qualified nurse on call and living with her.

Patsy practically sprinted from Nonnatas house and down the stone steps. She pulled her bike, with great force, from the bike rack. Ever since the accident she hadn't been back on her bike, preferring to walk with it to each appointment. Although the nuns thought this was silly they were sympathetic to her reasons. Today was different. Patsy was pumped up and excited at the prospect of having Delia all to herself. She knew it would be a totally different scenario but Delia was the same person as she was before, she just needed reminded. She peddled faster than she had ever before, practically running over Fred as he carried a pile of wood up the cobbled street. She pulled hard on the brakes at the entrance of 'The London', hopped off her bike and tossed it against the railing with minimal effort. She bounded into the hospital, forgetting herself for a moment, and ran straight past the reception desk. She made a sharp left and bolted down Delia's corridor. When she stopped at Delia's door she took a moment to compose herself and brush down her tartan trousers. She took a deep breath. 'This is it.' Shaking, her hand grasped the door handle and pulled it down. She pushed open the door carefully and looked inside. The room was completely empty. The bed had been stripped and the bed pan had been cleaned and placed underneath ready for the next patient. Patsy's heart sank. She felt winded. As if someone had punched her with great force in the stomach. She couldn't help herself; tears began to pour down her face. She looked around frantically for a nurse or someone who could tell her exactly what had happened.

At that exact moment the door, to the bathroom, directly across from Delia's room opened and out walked Delia, helped by her mother. An obvious relief enveloped Patsy, she wasn't sure if it was real. She had to resist the urge to throw her arms around Delia in delight. That was more difficult than she thought it would be. Delia's mother looked surprised to see her. 'Look, cariad, your friend, Patsy, has come to say goodbye,' she said. Patsy thought she heard a hint of distain in the word 'friend' but how could she? Delia's mother was surely blissfully unaware of their relationship and it wasn't possible that Delia had remembered in the past week and told her. Suddenly, Patsy lost her nerve. She could see the way Mrs Busby was looking at her. She knew something was wrong. Patsy had never been one to back down from a fight or concede. But this felt a little different. She looked at Delia. Her face was still covered in bruises, cuts and grazes. She looked so helpless. Her mother was taking most of her weight, but Patsy knew Delia's fighting spirit. Even with amnesia she would have been determined to walk out of the hospital instead of being wheeled out in a chair. Her right arm was being held against her chest by a white sling. She looked so frail. Patsy's brain went into over-drive. Is this what Delia would want? Was she being selfish? What would happen if things went too far and their relationship was shown to everyone?

Patsy resigned herself to the fact that she must let Delia go. It would be unfair to inflict yet another worry on her when she was unable to remember who Patsy was in the first place. She placed her hand in her coat pocket and felt about. She'd purposely picked up the Square Dance ticket stub, before she left Nonnatas, to give her courage if she needed it. She removed it from her pocket and stared at it. It seemed so long ago that she and Delia had been content and happy, stealing quick glances at each other across the crowded dance hall. She rubbed the ticket longingly between her thumb and fore-finger. She glanced back up from the ticket to Delia's confused face. 'I want you do have this Dels,' said Patsy sweetly. She took Delia's good hand in her own and placed the ticket stub in her palm before closing Delia's fingers over it. She placed one hand underneath Delia's and rested her other hand on top. With all the energy and facade that she could manage she mustered a smile and leant in towards Delia's ear. 'We're not ghosts and we shan't live as we were. I'll not give up hope, Dels, we'll have our waltz.' She stood back and smiled at Mrs Busby before looking back at Delia. Their entire life together was crumbling in front of Patsy's eyes but she refused to believe this was it over. They would be together again. Unable to bare standing there a moment longer Patsy turned on her heels and began to walk away. She didn't even turn back for one last look at Delia, it would cause even more heartbreak. More than the young nurse could bare.

Delia's eyes followed Patsy down the corridor and then back to the ticket. Her mother looked at her face. She recognised that look. It was the look Delia got when she was trying to answer a difficult homework question. It was the look of searching; searching her brain for even the minimal scrap of knowledge or memory. Delia began to mouth something. 'What is it, cariad?' asked Mrs Busby. Delia mouthed the word again. 'Enough nonsense now, cariad, it's time to go back to Wales where everyone loves you.'

'Pats...,' whispered Delia 'Pats...Patsy...' she began to get louder. 'Patsy...Patsy...' Suddenly she found her voice and called down the corridor. 'PATSY!'

Patsy turned around almost immediately. It had felt like a life time since she heard her name spoken by her love. She could not believe it. Delia had let go of her mother's arm and was making her way quickly, well as quickly as she could, towards Patsy. Patsy looked as if she had, in fact, seen a ghost. She had gone completely pale. After convincing herself that she would not see Delia for a long time, let alone the lover she lost, she was suddenly watching her walk towards her. Patsy knew Delia's memory would not be restored completely but looking into her eyes Patsy knew her Delia was in there and she was fighting to be let out. Patsy shook the shock from her and ran towards Delia. She did not want to hurt her but could not stop herself scooping Delia into a massive hug. 'Patsy...I remember...I do...not much...but I remember the feelings, Pats,' whispered Delia into Patsy's bosom. 'Don't ever leave me. Don't you ever leave me,' whimpered Patsy back. For a moment nothing else mattered in the entire world. The lovers had been united.