Delia's shoes were killing her. In hindsight, Delia realised that perhaps she shouldn't have chosen to make her first appearance in stilletos for several months in the shoes belonging to a woman with feet a half size smaller than Delia's own...but they'd been so lovely.

Except- now she was stuck, blisters most definitely forming on at least three of her toes, in a room really too dark and smoke filled for anyone to actually be able to admire the source of the pain properly, and unable to even indulge in complaining to Patsy about it.

'-and then it just EXPLODED everywhere, I think Sister Winifred was going to faint, she-

Her girlfriend paused in the middle of a slightly-less-than romantic story and studied Delia for a moment.

'Deels, are you alright?'

'Fine!' Perhaps a trifle too bright- it was after all long past midnight and she'd been up since half past five- but Patsy let it go.

'Do you want to hear the rest- sorry, I know it isn't really a going-out story. But you asked how work was and...well, district calls are always a little...'

'No- go on. What did Sister Winifred do?' Delia prompted, feeling only slightly guilty. It wasn't as if she wasn't interested- she WAS- but then again, she WAS rather hoping Patsy would get back into telling the story so that she would get AWAY from looking at Delia too closely.

Or more particularly, her feet.

She had rationalised it as she'd gotten ready, as she buckled the now-slightly-excruciating pumps: what Patsy didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And they were lovely. And they were just shoes.

And it wasn't as if Barbara was ever going to know, was ever going to find out.

Lulled a little by the steady beat of the music, and the warmth of Patsy's body pressed up against hers where they leant against the bar, Delia indulged for a moment in rehearsing the argument to herself.

Barbara isn't going to know. And if she did- somehow, somehow- find out about...everything, my wearing her shoes to somewhere like this would surely be only a minor detail in the entire thing. It would be the least of our worries- not that I'm planning on doing this again, Barbara's feet must be even smaller than she said, there's no way it should hurt this much-

She knew the argument was one that would likely never actually happen- Delia took a second tpo reflect on the fact that when we argue with people in our heads, we rarely argue with THEM. We argue instead with our own made-up versions: versions that listen calmly to what we have to say, that react as we wish they would, that capitulate gracefully to our logic in a way the real flesh-and-blood versions never would.

She wasn't arguing eith Patsy in her head- she was arguing with a new Patsy, one who would be capable of having a calm conversation with Delia about the possibility of their outing, who would listen to Delia's points and respond with points of her own.

Although it would be less satisfying to imagine how things would really go- who wants to spend time imagining their girlfriend panicking and refusing to discuss it and probably withdrawing for at least three days minimum, bedroom door shut, short answers and even shorter amounts of time spent just the two of them...

It wasn't Patsy's fault, Delia supposed.

Although it was hard not to get frustrated sometimes.

'Deels?'

'Sorry' Jerked from her reverie, Delia felt slightly disoriented for a moment. 'What did you say?'

'I was wondering how Valerie will get on with her- she's on district again tomorrow, accoridng to Nurse Crane.'

Delia chuckled, and tipped her head back lazily, then straightened up and let her gaze drift idly around the club. Then something caught her eye.

'Speaking of Valerie... I wonder if she knows she has a doppleganger?'

'What?'

Delia nodded towards the far end of the bar and Patsy turned, craned her neck.

'Where?'

'There- by the- she's next to the woman in the blue shirt-'

'Oh yes-'

It was almost uncanny Delia thought- the smooth shine of her hair, about the same height- same quick, decisive movements- nothing superfluous, nothing hesitant... so very much the same...

A cold feeling started in the middle of Delia's stomach and spread as the certainty gre- it was an effort to even move her lips, they felt frozen in place- but as she glanced up at Patsy's face, she could tell that she was feeling the same thing, she had noticed it too. Her eyes were haunted.

'Pats-'

'Oh god.' It was quiet: a plea, a prayer.

She wasn't moving- it was, Delia might have reflected, almost ironic that while she was usually the one pressing for more, Patsy pulling away, this time it was she who was able to spring into action, pushing Patsy away from her, stepping back.

Fear made her clumsy- unwinding her arm from Patsy's waist felt like trying to manouvere the limbs of a stranger- but she managed it, turning as she did to face away from the nurse by the door who stood, so unconcerned in her red blouse and black skirt, as if her appearance hadn't triggered an earthquake, a hurricane, a disaster.

'Do you think she saw us?'

'No- I don't think so'

It hung in the air, unspoken- not yet anyway.

The song changed, to one louder- some of the women nearby started to sing along, and Delia found that they were, hideously, having to actually raise their voices to be heard.

'Come on-'

It was hard to move, pushing through the mass of bodies felt wrong- Delia felt an urge to crouch down, to hide- to cover her eyes and indulge in the old fantasy of childhood that not seeing is the same as being unseen.

Moving felt too conspicuous, too obvious- as if the ripples of their movements would alert Valerie from afar of their presence; staying still felt like waiting to be found. Childlike, again- the little sparks of fear in the pit of the stomach as you pressed yourself into the coat cupboard or behind the sofa, footsteps coming, inevitably, closer.

Ready or not, here I come.

And as in childhood, of course the discovery came.

'Delia!'

There was shock in Valerie's voice, but not any overt displeasure: Delia kept her focus on that.

Deal with one thing at a time: just exactly what she says and does and no more.

'Valerie'

'And Patsy'

She could know, without needing to feel it, that Patsy was shaking next to her- not violently, just the tiny almost imperceptible tremors of a person in the very middle of their worst of fears.

'Hello, Valerie.'

There was none of the normal spikiness in her tone that fear brought out, that Delia was so used to. Her voice was flat, resigned.

There was a pause- and when words came, Delia was rather surprised to hear them come from her own mouth.

'So- how are you?'

Damn her mother. Damn her mother and her insistence on courtesies, that had seen these mindless pleasantires drummed into Delia until they became second nature.

Valerie seemed thrown too- she looked like she had to rouse hersefl to reply.

'Ah- fine, thanks. Good- in fact. I forgot my umbrella though- should be drenched by the time I make it home'

'Oh- well-' Who was this, talking as if the world hadn't ended? 'There's a bus that goes from nearby, from the next road-'

Why- why make it clear you've been before?

Worse, the little flinch from Patsy: she'd noticed, she was regretting Delia's words too.

Why am I making it worse? Although... does it really matter what I say now?

Delia wasn't sure what scared her more- the idea that she was making things worse or the idea that things were so bad they couldn't be made worse, no matter what she said?

'Thanks. That'll be...good.'

Another pause: Valerie turned to Patsy.

'How was- how was Mrs Fletcher?'

'Mrs Fetcher.'

'Of- of course. I know you said she was-'

Valeries voice trailed off, the fact that none of them cared screamed in the silence, and Delia felt her insides shrivel.

Suddenyl, she could bear it no longer- whatever happened, Valerie dragging them back and announcing exactly how she was planning on ruining them, shouting, anything would be better than this excruciating inertia.

'We- have to go- We'll- um-'

She'd ran out of words by the time she'd grabbed Patsy's arm- giuving up, she pulled her towards the doors.

Valerie didn't follow.

They didn't catch the bus home.

Instead they walked- rain seeping into their shoes, dampening their hair, staring straight ahead, silently.

Stretching out their time together.

It was only once they neared the docks that Patsy spoke- her words rough, as if they hurt her.

'Deels-'

'What?'

'I don't regret it. I've been thinking about it and- I don't. I thought I might.'

Delia couldn't reply. She reached out instead, took Patsys icy fingers in her own and gave them a fleeting squeeze.

They pulled away at the same moment and carried on walking.

They didn't look at one another.

Separate doors closed that night, silently towelling off and making damp, chilled trips to the bathroom to hold frozen fingers under warm water and sponge mud splatters from legs and coats.

Delia wondered if they were doing it right- should they be clinging together, should they be crying?

Or should they be doing as they were, readying themsevles early for the separation that surely would come.

At least for Patsy, it should be easy- all the barriers erected could come up again, and Delia would not, for once, disturb them.

For herself, it was harder, it must be.

She couldn't imagine her chest hurting more than it did at that very moment.

An urgent tapping cut through the fog of sleep; she found herself lying on top of the quilt, half undressed. Her fountain pen had rolled onto the floor; the sheets of paper on which she had tried for some time to find the right words in order to beg Valerie to say nothing or to at least leave Patsy out of it, were crumpled beneath her.

Disoriented, she started to sit up but her door opened before she could get up from the bed tp answer the knocking.

A red eyed Patsy, looking almost as bad as Delia felt, rushed to the bed. Delia noticed Patsy had made a better job of dressing for bed- she already wore her striped pajamas but didn't look as if she'd actually managed to sleep.

The clock beside Delia's bed read a quarter past four.

'Deels, wake up!'

'I'm awake- what is it, Pats, what's wrong?'

She could have bitten her own tongue after saying it- what's wrong, other than everything having fallen to pieces?- but Patsy didn't seem to notice.

In fact, underneath her obvious exhaustion, she looked somehow... elated?

'I was thinking- it just came to me all of a sudden: Deels, remember when we first went to Gateways?'

'What?'

There was an urgency in her tone too fierce for simple reminiscing- she was gripping Delia's quilt tightly as she leant forward.

'We got lost, didn't we?'

'Yes-'

Delia wondered if she was dreaming- surely Patsy wasn't really in her room at such a time just to berate her for her bad sense of direction?

'And although I'm normally good at finding my way, we STILL got lost- we couldn't even ask anyone where the road was just on the off chance they put two and two together, we were walking round for such a long time, and then when we found it, we couldn't believe we'd walked past it twice- because it's so hidden, so tucked away-'

'Pats-'

'It's hidden so you can't accidentally find it- it's not anywhere you'd go to find a club if you weren't looking for it...Deels, if Valerie was there, she KNEW it was there-'

Finally, Delia's brain caught up with her.

'OH!'

'Exactly-'

'She was there on purpose, she'd looked for it, she didn't just wander in-'

She had to say it, she had to say it out loud.

'She's-' Patsy broke off, and Delia took over.

'-the same.'

She felt relief coursing through her body, like adrenaline. She felt herself starting to shake with it- it was too much too quickly, to have everything break apart and then mend itself so fast-

Everything was going to be ok.

When she fell into Patsy's arms, she could feel Patsy was trembling too. They clung together- survivors of some violent storm that had passed them by, so close, so close.

They were alright.