(A/N) this may be a confusing introduction but I hope that will draw you in to the story and want to read more (and leave lovely comments...) just before people ask I want to say that this story is still set in the same timeline, it isn't a modern story, hope this intro and the chapter to come
I lay flat out on the single bed, with my head flat while I gave Delia instructions. This way she would have the best chance.
"Now place your hand proximal to the naval, hold it like your hand is a knife, now place your hand to find the fundus," I paused, letting her adjust her hands on my stomach.
"can you feel anything?" I prompted. Delia bit her bottom lip a little in concentration as she massaged with her hands, pressing in all the right areas. Her hands were cold, her nails varnished with a clear polish which made them shine and yet remain neat and clean, be the way that hands of a nurse should. She had always had the passion to be a good nurse and now she was becoming one. She eventually looked to me, her body seeming to tower above me. She offered a small smile but shook her head.
"Nothing."
I nodded, trying to sit up and taking her offered hand in order to help. I buttoned the checked shirt I was wearing. It wasn't closing easily. Delia seemed to notice this too and she looked instantly troubled. She bit down again on the lip she had just let go of then moved to place her hand atop mine on my stomach.
"Patsy."
I knew that tone, knew exactly what she was going to say and sighed internally. I knew she meant well, I knew she had my best interests at heart - even if it was still hard to believe she could really care about me. I looked into her eyes, they were deep but not dark, like a Mediterranean sea. Her thumb lay against the still visible skin of my stomach, stroking with a feather touch.
"Patsy, you've got quite the little bump now. I know no one has said, no one has noticed but, what if something happens, what if you get hurt or tired. If you were anyone else, if you were your own patient, you'd tell them to stop at home and rest."
She was right. I sighed deeply, I knew she was right and that was the very reason I couldn't speak. I could harm myself. I could harm the foetus. So much would have to be put in place, so much would have to change, but, for the first time since I had left school at sixteen I was happy with my situation. I was happy with Delia at my side. So much had changed in those four months, so much that it made my mind whirl in circles like an aeroplane propeller. So much change that I could never have believed, and more than would ever change again.