Making the phone calls to all their friends and family… that was just about one of the worst experiences in Patsy's life. But she owed it to Lucy to just get on with it. She'd started with Trixie - of course she had - and by the time she was most of the way through the list Trixie was there sitting at the table. Providing moral support and a friendly face.

When it was finally over Trixie had stood behind her for a long moment, hands gripping Patsy's shoulders. Told her to wait there for a few minutes.

She'd come back about ten minutes later with reddened eyes and an overnight bag.

"I think it's best if you come and stay with me tonight, sweetie."

"But…"

"Listen to me Patsy. You'll do more harm than good trying to talk any more about this with Lucy right now. She needs time and space to process what's happened. As do you."

"I can't just leave it like this."

"You must. There's no room for any productive discussion here tonight. You come with me now and I'll call Lucy's sister. Make sure she's got someone here for her."

Trixie's somber expression was a stark contrast to her usually irrepressible good humour. It was enough for Patsy to concede defeat. Walk numbly out of her home and into the looming unknown of the future.


The next time Patsy ran into Delia, she felt sure it was going to be horribly awkward. She hadn't meant to talk to anyone about the things she had - least of all with a girl she barely knew. But somehow Delia's warm, disarming smile had… brought things out of her. Her fears were thankfully ill-founded, however. Delia had seemed to sense Patsy's discomfort, had smiled. And asked about Patsy's hockey match the following weekend.

She'd really never met anyone like Delia before. When she was with the Welsh girl… it felt like Delia's whole attention was focused on her. And only her.

Patsy was not used to that. Her father had always been distant, even before the accident. He was never a family man. And her mother's attention was always divided between Patsy and her sister. It was natural, she supposed. One couldn't expect a parent to devote their whole attention to only one of their children.

And so when Delia's gaze was focused on Patsy, she felt… special. Interesting. Worthwhile. She felt like she was someone who could mean something to someone. It was kind of magical. And not a little bit addictive.

She found herself making excuses to drop by Delia's room most days, finding the slightest pretext to ask her opinion or give her a packet of sweets or just… say hello. Delia didn't seem to mind. In fact, Delia appeared to be reciprocating. She would sit with Patsy at breakfast time (although it was a bit scandalous to have a tenth form student sitting at the senior table), loan Patsy her latest novels as soon as she was done with them, poke her head into Patsy's room to say goodnight every evening.

Patsy found herself spending more and more time with Delia - and when she wasn't with Delia she was wondering what the younger girl was up to. Which was almost invariably studying, because Delia was one of the only other people that Patsy knew who was as determined to get top marks and get accepted into the best universities as she was.

Patsy had heard some of the other students (not entirely kindly) refer to them as a match made in heaven. Especially when they would stake out their table in the library and spend hours after classes and before dinner cramming and revising and testing each other. Patsy knew her grades had actually improved since she started spending time with Delia, and suspected that the other girl's had as well.

Sometimes, late at night when the dormitory was filled with the gentle and not so gentle sounds of teenaged girls in repose, Patsy would reflect on the possibility of them being a good match in… other ways. In private, Delia had made no bones about her orientation. She routinely joked about her relative position on the Kinsey scale - although she did sometimes mention that she hadn't entirely ruled out having relationships with boys.

Patsy felt more than a little bit conflicted about it all. She saw how much time and energy the other girls expended on talking about boys and making arrangements to meet boys and looking good for boys and it was just all so very tedious. There were more important things in life than, well, boys. Or relationships.

But then Delia would smile at her in a certain way, and Patsy's heart would thump erratically, and she'd feel a strange tightening sensation in her abdomen and she'd wonder.


"Now, tell me everything."

They were sitting on Trixie's settee with a bottle of red and a preemptive box of tissues.

And so Patsy told her tale again. Of the girl she'd loved and lost and vowed to forget, until fate (or at least the London Underground) had other ideas for her. Trixie probed gently, and she'd disclosed everything - from every tiny thing she remembered about Delia down to every last detail of her conversation with Lucy. She was hoarse with talking and crying and the bottle of wine was long empty by the time she was done.

"Oh sweetie. How horrible you must be feeling." A pause. "I'm trying very hard to respect your personal space, but it seems to me you could really use a hug."

"I don't deserve your kindness."

"Nonsense! You're my best friend and it is absolutely my job to support you when you're going through a rough patch. And this most certainly qualifies."

"And I've brought the whole thing upon myself." A strangled gasp. "I can't bear to think about how Lucy is feeling now."

"Patsy, listen. I know that you're concerned about Lucy. But your whole life has been turned upside down. You're allowed to be distressed and upset and you're certainly allowed to be comforted as well."

And so Patsy had dissolved into tears and let Trixie hold her. Until there were no tears left in her to be wrung out, until her chest ached and her eyes burned and she was just… empty.


It wasn't until the Christmas break that Patsy seriously contemplated the possibility of… deepening the connection between Delia and herself. She'd been dreading the upcoming break, knowing that she'd be one of the few students staying on over the holiday. There was no point in going 'home' to her father's empty house, he'd made it clear that he would not be making the journey back to the UK.

It was made exponentially worse knowing she'd be separated from Delia for over a week. It seemed an inconceivably long time.

In the weeks leading up to the end of term, Patsy couldn't help but dwell on their upcoming separation. She was irrationally apprehensive that something might befall Delia while she was away. Secretly she was petrified that Delia might find herself reacquainted with an old boyfriend (or girlfriend). But she wouldn't let herself think too hard about why that thought distressed her so much.

In the end, her worries were futile. Delia decided, and somehow managed to convince her mother, that the time wasted on the arduous journey to Pembrokeshire would be better spent at school continuing her studies.

To say that Patsy was ecstatic at the news would be an understatement.

She would have Delia practically to herself for over a week and the prospect was enticing and frightening in equal measure.

On the last day of term the school steadily disgorged its load of students - a cheerful chorus of "Goodbye" and "Merry Christmas" and "Have a great break" ringing through the halls and the grounds and so by the end of the day the muted noise of a dozen or so students seemed hushed and muffled.

The refectory was set with only two tables - students and the teachers who drew the short straw and were conscripted into supervising over the break. Patsy didn't feel too sorry for them. From experience they stayed very hands off and allowed the students free reign to do pretty much what they liked.

The students all stayed up later than bedtime, arguing over what to watch on tv and devising a movie night schedule based on the DVDs that they pooled together. It felt almost like a large, rowdy family, and Patsy felt the pang of missed opportunities. Bittersweet.

When the teachers finally dispersed them for bed, Delia walked Patsy to her dormitory. Delia had been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, and Patsy was about to ask her if she was having second thoughts about not going home to Wales when Delia looked up at her. A determined expression making her even more adorable than usual.

"Patsy."

"Hmmmn?"

"Do you..?" Normally loquacious, the fact that the younger girl was lost for words was enough to put Patsy on guard.

"Do I what, Deels?"

A shrug, a small sigh. And then Delia was raising up on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss against Patsy's lips and…

Oh.


Although she had protested vehemently, Trixie insisted that Patsy take a sleeping tablet. It was late by the time they were done talking and crying and Trixie had, undoubtedly correctly, been concerned that Patsy would lay awake and fret about things that couldn't be changed. So she'd stood over Patsy while she meekly swallowed the pill, and then practically frogmarched her into the bedroom and into the bed.

"Get some sleep, sweetie." Had leaned over and given Patsy a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Things will look better in the morning."

Patsy wasn't entirely sure what dosage of medication Trixie had foisted upon her, but she did not wake up the following morning. By the time she, very groggily, focused her eyes on the clock sitting on the nightstand it was already quarter past two in the afternoon.

She had slept through the entire marriage ceremony - had it still been going ahead.

Once she'd gotten over her shock, Patsy reflected that Trixie had probably done her a favour by engineering it that way.