Phyllis studied the ceiling of her room in Nonnautus with great intent, as the light snore across the room held a rhythmic pace. She normally wasn't one to lounge in bed once awake, but lately that had changed. Phyllis felt a great responsibility for the younger midwives, almost a de facto mother at times, as most of them were kilometers away from home. This, she reasoned, was why she lay awake long before the sun graced her window, hours before her alarm would sound, and only a matter of time before the mothers of Poplar would be calling for her help.
Being a 'spinster', as many liked to call her, Phyllis had witnessed many things that perhaps people with significant others were a bit less privy to; she had noticed Trixie had a problem with her liquor, long before she decided to attend Alcoholics Anonymous. Sister Mary Cynthia had been struggling for months; she could see it in her face every time someone mentioned certain phrases or performing certain tasks. The grease spot on the wall? She was no fool, she knew there had been, for lack of a better term, some 'Tom-foolery'.
Today though, something else bothered her, two midwives to be exact. At first glance, it seemed that Patsy and Delia were the best of friends, a bond one could only form from a life long type of friendship. To most, they clearly maintained this façade, however Phyllis began to notice small things that had her questioning her own judgement. Many a long glance had been noticed between them, small touches lasting a moment too long, and almost always an inside joke simply known with a glance at one another. The other night, as well as yesterday had confirmed her suspicions; Delia creeping out of Patsy's room so late in the night, and the length of time for which they stood there holding hands, no words needed, Phyllis instantly felt like an intruder on a deeply private exchange. Finally, the events of Patsy departing yesterday were ingrained in her mind. Everyone was sad, yes, but a glance at Delia, and Phyllis could see the look of devastation, so well masked, underneath her normally dimpled smile. She had rushed inside the moment Patsy's cab turned the corner, feigning an interest in tea, however when Phyllis went inside to assist, Delia was nowhere to be found. It was only when she went upstairs to retrieve her Spanish dictionary a few hours later did she hear the soft weeping from her room.
Phyllis, in her previous encounters had not said or done anything to help the young midwives with their personal struggles. She offered them random words of encouragement once their struggles became public knowledge, but did nothing to help them beforehand. The problem with Delia Busby and Patsy Mount is that their struggle would never be public, never could be public in the current time, and for that, her heart ached for them. It was never too late to help; although she hadn't fully been there for the other midwives, she knew she could for Delia, at least while Patsy was away. She had, after all, experienced a secret love of her own. She knew it was difficult, but she would let Delia know that she was not alone, one way or another. Resolutely, Phyllis sat up, feeling refreshed from her morning thoughts, as she set to face the bustling day of Poplar.