She was to report to the Headmistress's office immediately upon dressing. Patsy's sense of dread grew exponentially. Feet leaden, stomach roiling angrily, she hurriedly threw on whatever clothes were closest to hand. Uncaring of her appearance. Pulled her hair into a loose bun before stepping into the hallway to find her Head of House waiting.
Oh.
It felt not dissimilar to how she imagined prisoners on death row experienced their last moments. The long corridor, the bright, industrial lights. The mounting terror at what would happen at the end of the journey.
A sharp rap of knuckles on the door, then Patsy was ushered into an overly warm, peculiarly decorated office. In stark contrast to the clean lines and warm timbers comprising the rest of the school, this room looked like a young girl's boudoir. The decor could be most charitably described as pink froufrou. Tiny porcelain cats stared at her from every available surface. It was so distracting that she almost missed the delicate throat clearing that she supposed was designed to garner her attention.
"Miss Mount. I have some questions I need you to answer."
Patsy wasn't accustomed to lying. She'd never needed to before. Never really done anything that someone could have disapproved of. So when the Headmistress asked her bluntly about her relationship with Delia she could only stare, blank. Wracking her brain for any kind of plausible explanation, but her mind refused to cooperate. And so she remained stubbornly mute despite the Headmistress's increasingly shrill haranguing.
Finally the woman shrugged. Informed her that Delia's parents had been contacted about the situation. That they were still trying to get in touch with Patsy's father.
She was to stay away from Miss Busby until the matter was resolved. That it was likely that one or both of them would be removed from the school.
Patsy trudged back to her dormitory. Numb.
Her Head of House smiled sympathetically. But firmly directed her into her room when Patsy's gaze lingered, longing, down the hallway towards Delia's dormitory. She stood just inside the door, ignoring the questions of her roommates. Listening.
Opened the door when she caught the measured tread.
"Delia!"
The younger girl looked terrified. Blue eyes wide in shock and fear and Patsy's stomach lurched.
"Delia, it's going to be okay." She ignored the warning calls, stepped into the corridor and grasped the Welsh girl's hands. Startled at how chilled they were. "Deels, listen. We'll get through this."
"What's happening?"
"The Headmistress. She… knows. She saw us, on opening night."
"Oh my god!"
"Stay strong, Delia. We'll get through this."
And then Delia was escorted down the hallway and she was edged back into her room. To face a barrage of incessant questions and to ponder how exactly they were going to get through this.
She was a coward. One hundred percent lily-livered chicken. She'd raced out of the auditorium the moment the keynote looked like it was wrapping up, and now she was lingering by the information stand pretending to studiously read the program of events. While scanning the crowded gangway for a glimpse of a familiar figure, poised to bolt at a moment's notice.
Patsy estimated that her cortisol levels were so high, her fight/flight reflexes so finely tuned, that it was anyone's guess what reaction she'd have when she finally saw Delia. She forced herself to remember what she'd talked about with Louise. That it wasn't the end of the world if this first meeting didn't go well. That she needed to breath so that she didn't just pass out.
Patsy closed her eyes for a long moment. Focused on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Expelling every last cubic centimetre of air out of her lungs before breathing in fresh oxygen. Pictured the flow of oxygen through her lungs and heart and bloodstream, and finally felt her pulse relax minutely. Slow to a rapid thrumming rather than the uncountable blur that was bordering on tachycardia.
Several deep breaths later, and she felt back in control. Moderately.
Opened her eyes to see familiar blue ones looking back at her across the corridor.
Patsy's roommates were surprisingly sympathetic. Took it upon themselves to keep an eye out for Delia's return, and to investigate what had happened.
All that they could report was that the Welsh girl looked absolutely distraught as she'd been led back to her room, via a different route. The Head of House had directed her to stay in her room, as Patsy had also been instructed. That it sounded as if Delia was crying.
Heart constricting, Patsy railed at the injustice of their incarceration. All she wanted was to comfort Delia, reassure her. Tell her everything would be okay.
Patsy was under no illusion that it would be okay. But the thought of Delia alone and upset was was more than she could bear.
She heard nothing else until the afternoon. Another ominous knock on the door heralded a further summons to the Headmistress.
"I've spoken with your father, Miss Mount." Her pursed lips and narrowed eyes left Patsy with no doubt how that conversation had gone. "He is unwilling to trouble himself with finding an alternative school for your final year, so it appears we're stuck with you for now."
Yes. That sounded precisely like Father.
"Now the only reason I agreed to this was because Mrs Busby has decided to withdraw her daughter from the school, effective immediately. Consider yourself lucky Miss Mount. I would have preferred if you'd both been removed."
Patsy was aware that the Headmistress was speaking, but the sound was warped and distant through the sudden rush of panic. Delia was being taken away. She had to find her. Willing steel into her legs she pressed up out of the chair. Startled when the Headmistress banged her hands on the desk.
"Miss Mount, you have not been excused."
"I don't care. I need to see Delia."
"You will do no such thing!" A pause. "At least, not without supervision. Arrangements have been made. You will be allowed five minutes to say your goodbyes."
"Five minutes!?"
"If it were up to me you'd get nothing. Your Head of House apparently thinks very highly of you. Of you both. A view that is clearly ill founded in the circumstances."
"When?" Choked.
"Miss Busby is packing her belongings as we speak. I imagine they'll be ready to leave quite soon."
They stared at each other across the crowded gangway. Eyes locked, heedless of the heads that popped in and out of view as people wandered around the convention centre.
It was funny. Patsy had read about couples seeing each other across a crowded room and she'd always scoffed at the possibility of instant connections. Utter nonsense. And yet here she was, gawking like a fool and completely oblivious to the hordes of people jostling past.
Because somehow she'd been drawn into the middle of the hallway, quite without her conscious consent. And people were breaking around her like waves on an outcrop, and she just had time to wonder if she was the immovable object or the unstoppable force when a hauntingly distinctive figure was before her.
"Delia!"
She'd been escorted to a meeting room. Unceremoniously ushered inside, and the door left open behind her.
Delia was already in the room - a wan, timid body curled into the corner of a chair. It hurt. Oh it hurt to see her beautiful, vibrant Delia looking so deflated. So defeated.
Patsy sunk to her knees in front of the chair, reached for the smaller girl's hands. They were pale. Bloodless and cold.
"Deels…"
"I can't see you any more."
"I know. The Headmistress…"
"No. My Mam… She said I can't ever see you or talk to you again."
Jagged spears of icy dread formed in Patsy's chest. She wasn't surprised to hear that Mrs Busby had said something along those lines. What shocked her was Delia's apparent resignation.
"But surely we can still find a way."
Delia's head shook. Slow and ponderous. "It's too hard."
"Delia, please!"
"I'm sorry Patsy." Small hands were tugged out of Patsy's grasp, as Delia stood and trudged to the door. Her posture broken. Beaten.
Patsy stopped her before she reached the entrance. Grasped her arm and turned Delia to face her. "Delia, stop! Please." Hoarse. "There must be something we can do."
"There's not."
For a moment, a flickering second, Delia's eyes flashed back to life. She reached up on tip toes. Pressed her lips to Patsy's for a brief, heart rending instant.
"Goodbye Patsy."
Then she was gone.
"Hello Patsy."
It was as if eons had passed. Long, slow as molasses marches of interminable time. And as if no time had passed at all.
Delia looked exactly the same. Her hair was different, and she no longer carried herself with the disaffected slouch the characterised teenagers everywhere. But her eyes - those blue, blue eyes that Patsy had spent hours staring into were just the same as Patsy remembered. As was the smile, that was fading from joyful to trepidatious to worried.
Patsy roused herself from her dumbstruck reverie when Delia's welcoming smile morphed into an anxious frown.
Cleared her throat.
"Hello Delia."
She was almost positive her voice didn't break.
AN: So it seems I couldn't leave this alone. We've finally come to the point of convergence. Or maybe it's divergence.
School holidays are coming up really soon, I'll hopefully be able to get a couple more chapters out over the next two weeks or so. I know my chapters are not regular like other authors. I get so little time to think and write. Stick with me.
And thanks for the favourites and follows and pms and reviews. I appreciate them all.
