The sky was just beginning to lighten as Patsy stepped from the small house. She pulled the door shut, muffling the wails that announced the newest member of the Martin family, and took a deep breath of the frigid late-December air.
An experienced mother with a well-prepared household, a baby in proper position, a grinning father nearly hopping with excitement and calling encouragement from the other side of the door; in and out in under four hours – practically perfect – except, of course, for the time of night.
With most residents of Nonnatus House having departed for Africa, the remaining few were stretched thin and the long hours were taking their toll. Patsy's workload had tripled in the past few weeks, even with the rotation of midwives the NHS sent to help and Delia undertaking most of the district nursing duties.
Patsy could hear the busy rumble of work from the docks as she began to peddle back to Nonnatus House. She quickly stifled a yawn as she cycled closer to the lone figure walking hurriedly down the street. The girl mustered a smile and Patsy slowed, recognizing her as the daughter of a local greengrocer.
"Good Morning, Miss Taylor. Early start today?" Patsy couldn't quite remember her first name. Petunia? Violet? Something floral, in any case.
"Hullo, Nurse," seeing Patsy's questioning gaze, she gestured to the bags in each hand. "Just picking up a few things for Da. He special orders these," She pulled a large red fruit from the bag. "It's called a pomegranate. Here, you should try it!"
"Oh, thank you!" Patsy accepted it gladly and began digging for her wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
The girl flashed a tired grin, "Oh no, please," she said, "It's a gift. Christmas and all, even if it's a bit late. If you like it, just tell people where you got it from."
Patsy nodded, "Of course." She hesitated, noticing the dark circles under the girl's eyes.
"Miss Taylor, forgive me, but are you feeling alright? You're quite pale. I know with Dr. Turner out of town some are hesitant to visit his replacement, but you are more than welcome to come to one of us nurses if you need anything, "
The girl shrugged and pulled her bulky coat closer around her thin shoulders. "It's nothing, Nurse. Just some long hours lately is all."
Patsy narrowed her eyes slightly. "If you're sure. But please do hurry home out of the cold; I'd hate for you to catch something and ruin the last of your school holiday."
The smile this time was more of a grimace. "Ah, no holiday for me. I mostly work now, what with the stall being so busy and Lily always running around getting in trouble."
Patsy was about to protest when Miss Taylor looked at her watch and grimaced, cutting her off. "Sorry Nurse, I've gotta get going. I hope you enjoy the pomegranate."
Patsy watched her retreat up the street towards her family's small shop, laboring under the weight of her wares. She understood the decisions some households had to make in order to survive but she so hated seeing children having to choose between helping provide for their families and their educations. Especially with someone so bright; Patsy could remember stopping at the stall with Barbara and marveling at how quickly and accurately the Taylor girl had done sums and percentages in her head without having to use the til or put pen to paper at all – a feat that had Patsy more than a little envious and Barbara had proclaimed to be near wizardry.
Sighing, she looked at her own watch before pedaling off once more. She resolved to speak with Mr. Taylor; surely there was a way his daughter could return to school without causing too much difficulty. But for now it was late, or rather early, and she had a warm bed waiting for her.
Patsy hurried in from the cold, trying to rub some of the feeling back into her numb fingers without damaging the pomegranate or dropping her bag.
Sister Mary Cynthia smiled at her from behind her cup of tea, a book lying open on her lap as she waited by the phone.
"Good morning Patsy, everything go well with the Martins?"
"Oh, yes," smiled Patsy, "a little brother for Angela and Carla. With quite a set of lungs, I may add!"
"Oh, they'll be so pleased," the nun replied. "Carla told me that she wanted a little brother for Christmas just last week." She picked up her book; "There's more hot water for tea if you'd like."
"Thank you, but I think I'm going to try and fit in a few hours' sleep before clinic this afternoon."
Patsy set to work unpacking her instruments and starting the autoclave. Unbidden, a smile crept onto her face as she thought of what awaited her upstairs.
XXX
"I don't know how you'll survive without me," Trixie had declared at the table three weeks ago.
The residents of Nonnatus had been seated for dinner a scant two days before half of them were set to depart for their African mission trip, each embroiled in their own conversations – a veritable flurry of last minute plans, reminders, and to-do lists.
"A whole month without a roommate!" Trixie joked, "However will you cope?"
"I know," Patsy had agreed as solemnly as possible, "I'm afraid insomnia may be on the horizon. Unfortunately, it seems that your snores have become rather like my own personal lullaby."
"Patience Mount, I do NOT snore!" She huffed as the women around the table chuckled at her faux-rage.
"It is a shame though," said Barbara. She felt tremendously guilty that Patsy and Delia were to be the only two nurses left behind. "I know I sometimes have trouble sleeping in a room alone, especially after so long sharing."
She brightened suddenly, fork clattering against her plate. "Oh, I know! Maybe Delia could take Trixie's bed while we're away? Like a sort of substitute roommate!"
Patsy fought very hard to keep her face neutral.
"What a lovely idea," said Phyllis, smiling behind her teacup.
"Yes, of course," agreed Trixie. "You're more than welcome to, Delia."
"Well," Delia had started. Her tone was carefully casual, but her eyes, when they briefly caught Patsy's, had flashed with mischief. "I would hate to be responsible for any of your sleepless nights."
Patsy had promptly choked on her tea.
XXX
Patsy nearly skipped up the stairs despite her fatigue. Creeping into the darkened room, she began to undress as quietly as possible. Evidently, not quietly enough – Delia sat bolt upright in bed.
"Hoozat?" Delia's voice was thick with sleep, eyes squinting into the darkness. "Pats? What time is it?"
Patsy paused in buttoning her pyjama top to properly take in the adorable sight of sleep-rumpled Delia, hair in wild tangles and nightdress askew. "Don't worry, darling, you've still got another three or so hours to sleep."
"Oh, thank God." Delia collapsed backwards into the heap of blankets. Patsy watched, bemused, as an arm emerged from the pile once more, beckoning her.
"Come to bed, Cariad."
Patsy climbed in behind Delia, sliding an arm around her waist and letting her snuggle back against her chest, smiling into dark hair as Delia hissed about Patsy's cold feet. Before long she could hear Delia's breathing begin to deepen and even out.
"Rwy'n dy'n garu di"
"I love you too," whispered Patsy, pressing a kiss behind Delia's ear. "So very much."
The past few weeks had been some of the happiest of Patsy's life.
Christmas at Nonnatus was always so different from the Christmas' of her youth; warmth and light and togetherness in a way she could never have dreamed. Even this year, with the larger portion of the residents away, it had been beautiful, if a bit subdued. Patsy, Delia, Sr Mary Cynthia, and Sr Monica Joan had celebrated the holiday with a dinner provided by Mrs. B and Violet, the table positively groaning under the weight of all the dishes. Chummy, Sergeant Noakes, and Freddy had joined them; Chummy bringing endless stories from the Mother and Baby House and a delightful pudding that Fred had four helpings of, Violet looking on with a look that seemed to be a strange combination of exasperation, slight disgust, and pure love.
Young Freddy, now old enough to grasp the whole concept of Christmas morning, had been so excited he had hardly been able to remain seated. Instead, he alternated between babbling about what treasures awaited him, spinning in his chair at high speeds towards the windows every time he heard something that could have been a sleigh bell (Delia had surreptitiously returned to the kitchen and turned off the radio Mrs. B had left on carols after the fourth time), and desperately asking his parents if it was time for bed yet – an occurrence that Peter lamented only applied to Christmas Eve. It was only after Sr Monica Joan had spoken, heavily insinuating that she was a close friend of Father Christmas that Freddy had remained in his seat.
"He even ate all his peas!" Chummy had marvelled, "I should have told him Sister Monica Joan knows all of his heroes ages ago!"
They had all laughed as they watched Freddy's eyes track Sr Monica Joan's every move, desperate to prove he belonged on the 'nice' list.
After the guests had left and Patsy, Delia, and Sr Mary Cynthia had tidied up and washed the seemingly endless dishes, they'd all retired to the sitting room and crowded around some sort of holiday special. It had been cold enough that Patsy and Delia had been able to share a blanket, thighs pressed together, warming Patsy in a way that made the December chill disappear completely.
Christmas morning had passed in a blur of colour as the house bustled off to mass, leaving all the small gifts neatly piled together as per their unanimous decision to wait to be able to include the rest of Nonnatus House.
As Patsy stood in the church pew surrounded by the community she had made a life in, listening to the voices rise up together in song, she had felt truly blessed. Delia had stood beside her, her voice ringing out clearly, high and lovely, and she'd caught Patsy's eye and grinned. Patsy hadn't been able to stop the way her heart swelled in her chest or the way her eyes became a little misty. She had found a home. A home unlike any she had ever dared to hope for. Delia's thumb had brushed the soft skin of the underside of her wrist, and Patsy had smiled and smiled and smiled.
It was like they had dreamed when they had been preparing the flat; every day Patsy and Delia worked hard side by side and every night they got to fall into bed together, swapping little stories and laughing about their day, trading their professional personas for soft smiles and softer hands. And every morning Patsy woke up, no matter how late she'd gotten in, just to kiss Delia goodbye and wish her luck as she left for district rounds.
XXX
"I'm sorry I can't take you out tonight," murmured Patsy. She and Delia were the only two left in the community centre, cleaning up after another long afternoon of the prenatal clinic.
Delia smiled, "Please don't be, Pats. We've all been pulling so many shifts since everyone went on the mission trip it didn't even occur to me to hope we'd be able to have New Year's Eve off. Honestly, I'm really looking forward to just a nice cup of tea and having Sr Monica Joan teach me how to do a proper King Charles Brocade."
She shrugged as Patsy chuckled; the image of Delia and the elderly nun's heads bowed together over piles of yarn or old leather-bound books, chattering like schoolgirls, had become quite frequent in the past few months.
"Besides," Delia's smile was warm, "we'll have plenty of other New Year's Eves together."
Patsy's heart skipped a beat – the way it always did when Delia mentioned their future. She loved the way Delia spoke of their relationship in absolutes; like there was never any doubt in her mind they belonged together, like every obstacle was only to be viewed as a temporary setback, like no matter whatever else happened in the world there would always be the two of them there at its center, together, holding fast.
"Yes," she promised softly, "Plenty of them."
That night Patsy was on call. She was slowly making progress in an old tome Sr Monica Joan had lent her, trying to keep from nodding off beside the telephone. Whether the book – a dense and lengthy history of the crusades – was actually helping to keep her awake remained to be seen.
The others had all trailed off to bed long ago. Delia was the last of them, waiting until a full half-hour had passed since Sr Mary Cynthia had disappeared up the stairs before daring to press a series of long, languid kisses to Patsy's lips and finally saying goodnight. Even now, over an hour later, Patsy could still feel the slide of Delia's lips, her soft breath, the delicious pressure of her love's hands on the side of her neck. She longed to join Delia upstairs, to take her into her arms, to make her sigh into her mouth, to press her back against the mattress, to –
A sudden knock startled Patsy from her daydream.
She blushed furiously, glancing at the clock to confirm the late hour before smoothing her uniform and hurrying to the door. She quickly went through the list of mothers nearing term in her mind, trying to figure out which one it could be and why on earth they had sent someone to fetch her instead of calling. She flipped the light on before opening the door.
There, shivering on the doorstep in only a dress, was Miss Taylor.
Her eye was blackened. A cut on her cheekbone was bleeding sluggishly, matting the messy dark hair brushing against it. Her left arm was being held awkwardly, gingerly. In her right arm she carried a sleeping child, wrapped in what Patsy recognized as the older girl's own large coat.
"Help us," She wheezed. "Please."