Delia had always thought of Sister Winifred as slightly annoying, but knew her heart was mostly in the right place. Even if their unspoken views and beliefs clashed somewhat. She had even agreed to help the sister learn to drive with the assistance of furniture and cushions to form a makeshift car. It was for that reason she assumed the young nun was now so keen on getting... involved.
"I would say it's just like riding a bike... But I feel that's not appropriate given the current situation."
Delia tried not to listen.
She had been worried about this moment ever since she'd got the job at Nonnatus. It was inevitable at some point that Phyllis would stop giving her lifts and she'd have to travel to see her patients via bicycle. She hadn't touched one since the accident and the thought of cycling was bringing up some very unpleasant thoughts. Not that she could remember much of the accident itself, it was more the concept of being at the mercy of the very object that nearly took her life.
Patsy didn't know. Patsy didn't need to know. Delia had decided not to worry the woman since the redhead's tribulations far outweighed her own. But clearly sweeping it all under the metaphorical carpet had done little to convince Sister Winifred that she was at ease.
"I can always ask Fred if he's got those spare stabilisers he made for Timothy."
Delia shook her head vehemently "No!"
The nun blinked in surprise at the loud reaction.
"Sorry, I think you're right, I just need to do it, not keep thinking about it."
The first few meters were rather shaky, but before long Delia was cycling round the square quite contentedly, the breeze whipping her face and making her feel thoroughly refreshed.
"Well done!" Sister Winifred cheered her on enthusiastically.
Delia screeched her breaks and rounded the corner, a wide grin on her face.
"I did it! I can do it!" she exclaimed excitedly, gathering speed.
The adrenaline pumped though her veins, a pleasant feeling of accomplishment at managing to tackle her fear. For a brief moment she felt invincible. Then her front tyre hit a loose rock. A jolt ran through her bike and through her body. An invisible tug on her stomach - that feeling in her gut when you're moments from falling.
She gasped and opened her eyes wide before slamming them shut, a blinding pain shooting through her head.
It had been a long time since she'd had a dream like that. She shook her head trying to rid the vivid images from her mind as her forehead throbbed angrily.
The dream wasn't real but the pain was. Her nerve endings still alight with adrenaline she sat up, shivering slightly in the cool air. The snow outside had finally stopped but the chill in the air still remained despite it being nearly spring. Raising a shaking hand she shielded her eyes and opened them a small amount.
Daylight streamed in along with another stab of pain. She cut her losses and succumbed to the welcoming darkness again, head sinking back into the pillow. Patsy wasn't there, she was just coming off a night shift. It was probably for the best. The heels of Delia's hands kneaded into her temples, trying to ease the aching. Headaches had been a regular part of her life after the accident and something she had come to accept in the years since. They were normally not too bad, a niggling pain when she was tired or stressed and the occasional migraine if both her mind and body were under a lot of strain.
It was easy for others around her to forget the accident had ever occurred - the visible damage being almost non-existent apart from a light scar on her scalp near her hairline. Even that was hidden by her fringe most days. As such they treated her as they had before, wanting to keep her assured she was better, normal again. Delia was glad. And in most if not all ways she did feel normal again. She'd regained all of her memories in record time, a feat even the doctors had called nothing short of a miracle. They had warned her of the potential of lingering headaches but it had seemed a small price to pay - especially for a miracle. And they never interfered to the point where they stopped her doing her job. So she never mentioned them. On the rare occasions she had migraines they almost always coincided with her monthlies anyway so she had an excuse to stay bed bound in the dark for the day.
As if to solidify that fact, a new pain began to surface in her lower abdomen.
Great.
There were home visits this morning, a double shift at clinic in the afternoon and they were short staffed. She would just have to pop a couple of aspirin and make do.
With a groan she managed to sit upright and fully open her eyes. She felt hungover. This is why she didn't drink much any more. Her younger body could have handled a few drinks and a night out on the town with little to no repercussions the next day but not now. Just the odd tipple with Patsy sufficed nowadays. Alcohol wasn't the cause of her symptoms though. It was the sleepless nights that had started to get to her. And she'd be lying if she said the headaches hadn't increased recently.
After the first few times she'd lost count of Patsy's nightmares. Being jolted suddenly awake, having to be there to assist the distressed woman and then trying to get back to sleep again after was taking its toll on her body. Both women were struggling but Patsy's stubbornness and refusal of help meant they were stuck in a catch 22. Despite Phyllis's warning to look after herself she found it nearly impossible sometimes. The stress must have been showing too because, more than once, Val had offered her support with some tasks. Patsy was so much more adept and skilled at hiding her stress from others than the brunette. She had of course had many years of practise to perfect the art. Delia meanwhile was struggling.
Four insulin patients and two haemorrhoid compressions later, Delia wished she'd stayed in bed. Her NHS issue navy elastic belt was digging painfully into her lower back. The aspirin had only made a small dent in the pain in her head and uterus. Nevertheless, the exercise seemed to be helping a little and the worst of the morning was now done. Last on her list before lunch was her (fast becoming favourite) mother-to-be, Mrs Robinson, or Gwen as she insisted being called.
Delia placed the cold metal pinard against her ear and listened carefully. The small thrum of a heartbeat made her mouth twitch into a dimpled smile.
"Baby's in fine fettle it seems." she glanced up towards the mother.
Gwen let out a visible sigh of relief at the good news. "Thank the lord, I was beginning to worry."
"Why would you be worried?"
"Oh no reason, nurse, it's probably first timers nerves. I just want the little fellow, or lass, to be well is all."
Delia narrowed her eyes. The woman in front of her seemed very jittery. "I think I'll just take your blood pressure if that's okay."
She fastened the cuff around Gwen's upper arm.
"And how have you been keeping my dear?" Gwen asked, eyeing Delia's dark circled eyes.
"Oh, I've been alright, it's been rather busy recently, what with our staff shortages and everything. Thankfully we have a new midwife, Nurse Anderson who has been helping us with the strain."
"Oh yes, I heard about her - really awful what she had to go through with that hairdresser and her daughter." Gwen sighed sadly. "It's hard enough trying to fit in without everyone else berating you for something outside your control."
Delia nodded. She didn't like discussing gossip with patients but Gwen's heart was in the right place.
She frowned at the BP results. 142/98. Way too high.
"Your blood pressure is a little high Gwen, has everything been all right recently, anything you're stressed about?"
Gwen shook her head but Delia noted her right leg was shaking.
"It's okay to be anxious." Delia smiled kindly, laying a hand on the jittering leg. "In fact I'd be concerned if you weren't."
"I'm sorry, it's just I get the jitters sometimes." Gwen avoided Delia's gaze.
"Well, a high blood pressure isn't the best for baby, so if there's anything I can do to help, you must tell me."
Gwen worried at her bottom lip.
Just then the door to the small flat opened and a tall, lanky man with a strong jaw and mop of bright blond hair appeared.
"Gwen?" he looked panicked. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine, this is Nurse Busby, she's just here to check on the baby." Gwen indicated to Delia. "And this is my husband, Larry."
"Nice to meet you Mr Robinson."
"Pleasure's mine, miss. Would you like a cuppa?" asked Larry.
Delia pondered for a moment. She really needed to be going, clinic started soon but the prospect of a few more minutes in the warm and a hot cup of tea was too much to pass up. And besides, she wanted to get to the bottom of what was causing Gwen's anxiety.
"Yes please, that would be lovely."
Larry grinned. "Milk and sugar?"
"Lots of milk please, no sugar."
"Ha! Just like you Gwen. Grew up on a dairy farm this one, been hard enough to get her to cut down on the milk since we moved here. There aren't that many cows in London. Should've seen her when the milk was rationed at Christmas."
"Now that's not fair. I like my milk, besides, it's good for baby. Nurse Busby has very good taste." she winked.
Delia grinned at the playful banter between the couple. "Well I didn't grow up on a farm but I do appreciate a milky brew."
"Right ho, half milk half tea coming up... and the same for the 'udder' one" he nodded towards his wife.
Gwen smiled fondly at Larry's retreating form."Bless him. I've never known a nicer man nurse, not ever."
"You're very lucky Mrs Robinson, he's a lovely chap." Delia packed away the blood pressure cuff and settled herself down on the sofa.
"What about you, got anyone special?"
Delia blushed. Gwen's expression was so kind, so open, she couldn't bring herself to lie. "I do, yes."
"Ah that's nice, I hope they're kind to you."
Delia nodded. "Yes, they're perfect."
There was a knowing twinkle in Gwen's eyes. Delia cleared her throat and attempted to change the subject.
"So you grew up in Wales... What made you two move to London?"
Gwen's cheerful expression faltered for the briefest moment but Delia spotted it.
"Fancied a change of scene didn't we Larry?"
Larry had reappeared with the tea and a rather stony expression on his face. "Yes, something like that" he mumbled.
"Larry's got a job at the local garage doing repairs and all sorts, he had a friend who worked there who put a good word in for him." Gwen said proudly.
Larry passed Delia a steaming cup of milky tea. She took a small sip and instantly felt better as the liquid heated her from the inside out.
"Oh thank you Mr Robinson, this is wonderful."
"Knows how to change oil and make a cuppa. Can't wish for more can you?" Gwen grinned.
After her second cup of tea Delia decided it was time to make tracks. Phyllis was running clinic today and she didn't fancy being late. She thanked the Robinson's for their hospitality and left their small flat, beginning the long walk to the Iris Knight Institute.
There was something amiss about the Robinson family that she couldn't quite place. Everything seemed almost too cheery. She was beginning to wonder if she should've taken some of Gwen's blood for testing (that high blood pressure was a concern) when a pain shot up her lower back. Grunting, she adjusted her belt again. Confounded thing, completely unnecessary, it served no purpose than being cosmetically pleasing. She wished some days she could just wear trousers. Oh the comfort they would offer... Perhaps one day the NHS would issue more practical uniforms for their nurses, but for now she'd have to deal. At least the grey wool coat was standard issue. It felt like something out of the trenches but it was keeping her warm.
Eventually she stumbled through the doors to the clinic, looking rather windswept and straight into the path of Val.
"Sorry!" they both exclaimed in unison.
"Nurse Busby." Came Phyllis's stern voice from across the hall. "You're late and Mrs Annette has just vomited all over bed three, could you attend to it please."
Val gave her an apologetic smile. "I think she's on the war path today - got out of the wrong side of bed this morning if you ask me."
"Just when I thought my day couldn't get any better." Delia muttered.
Trying to ignore the niggling pain in her head and back she made her way towards the cupboard for the cleaning supplies. She wish she'd stayed in bed this morning.
Delia didn't get a chance to sit down all afternoon. She was up to her elbows in urine testing kits, coupons and nappies. All in all a typical shift but it was clear there was more assistance needed. It was just her, Nurse Crane and Nurse Dyer and Mrs Turner at the front reception. Around 3pm, Phyllis informed everyone that Nurse Anderson was to be joining them later to help ease the workload and they could take a quick five minute break.
Valerie and Delia leant against the back door of the clinic, catching their breath together.
"I don't think I've ever had such a busy afternoon." Val mused.
"Same." Delia agreed. "And that's including male surgical."
Valerie winced. "Male surgical sounds like hell on earth to me... why did you ever go there in the first place?"
Delia shrugged. "It was offered. And mam told me to take the first offer in case there wasn't another. And besides, it wasn't all bad."
Valerie lit a cigarette. "Of course, you met Patsy!"
Delia fought the blush spreading in her cheeks. "That... and it gave me my fair share of hilarious embarrassing stories to take with me into the world."
"Do share!" said Valerie enthusiastically "I feel like we need some light relief after that."
"Did I ever tell you about the bedpan incident of 1959..."
All too soon Phyllis was calling them back inside.
"Looks like duty calls." Val stamped out her half burned cigarette and opened the door, waiting for Delia.
The two shared sympathetic glances before entering the building to rejoin the fray.
The pain in Delia's head was increasing. She had hoped by now it would be getting better but this morning's aspirin had worn off and the bright lights of clinic were certainly not helping matters. Excusing herself from Mrs Doyle and her large bump, she made her way to the bathroom.
The silence of the smallest room was very welcome and Delia sat on the stall, her hands over her eyes, trying to block out the thrumming. Perhaps she should just ask if she could go home, Lucille had arrived now and the throng of expectant mothers was beginning to clear.
Just as she made her way towards Phyllis the door to the clinic sprang open loudly, much to the alarm of several small children in the creche near the entrance.
"HELP! WE NEED HELP!" yelled a man, wide eyed and panicking.
On instinct all four nurses rushed forward to attend the man.
"What's going on young man?" Phyllis asked, already visually assessing him for injuries.
The man was gasping for breath, the air wheezing in and out of his lungs. It was clear he'd run quite a distance.
Satisfied he was uninjured Phyllis put her hands on his shoulders as he sank to the floor in exhaustion "Now then, take some deep breaths and tell me what's happened."
"NURSE! Nurse out here!" came some more shouting.
Delia and Val locked eyes and ran to the front door.
A man covered in motor oil was standing holding a young boy in his arms.
"We was test driving the motor and he ran out... I couldn't... he just..." he stuttered helplessly.
Delia rushed forward and took the boy in her strong arms. Quickly glancing to Valerie she took the lead.
"Call an ambulance. And see if Doctor turner is at the maternity home, it might be quicker to reach him."
Val nodded and hurried off.
Delia took the small unconscious bundle inside and deposited him gently on the nearest examination table. Phyllis was quickly by her side along with the man from earlier.
"His name is Andrew - this is his father, Gareth."
Delia nodded. "Andrew, can you hear me?" she asked softly.
Phyllis was already assessing the boy for injuries. He appeared to not have any open wounds but they both knew that didn't mean he wasn't in danger. Delia put an ear to his chest and listened.
"There's a pulse but he's having trouble breathing." she exclaimed.
Phyllis was by her side. "Go get some suction tubes from the supply room, there's probably something lodged in his throat."
Delia nodded and all but sprinted towards the room. Her heart was hammering loudly in her ears, the adrenaline pumping. The poor lad's lifeless face loomed in her mind, he was so pale. Her hands shook as she tried to locate the rubber tubes and glass bottles of the suction kit. Every label seemed to be scrambled and the words didn't want to register in her brain. Frustrated at her ineptitude she shook her head, trying to rid the brain fog that was descending but it just made a wave of dizziness wash over her.
"Nurse Busby!" came Nurse Crane's voice in urgency.
Finally she located the right box and sprinted back to the injured boy.
Phyllis tutted and took the box. "Not a moment too soon."
Delia cowered as Valerie rounded the curtain. "Doctor Turner is on his way." she looked at the lifeless form. "And so is the ambulance."
Phyllis nodded and took the tubing from inside the box. Knowing what was about to happen wasn't going to be pretty, Valerie piped up.
"It's too crowded in here, Nurse Anderson, stay with Nurse Crane, Nurse Busby take this young man's father outside and get him a cup of tea, I'll go and see to the man covered in Motor Oil and make sure he's not making a mess of the floor"
Bless Valerie Dyer and her ability to stay calm during a crisis.
"I'll do no such thing!" resisted the boy's father. "I ain't leaving him."
Delia put a gentle hand on his arm. "You're in shock, we need to look after you too. He'll be alright, Nurse Crane knows what she's doing." she helped manoeuvre the stunned man out, glancing back to see Phyllis inserting the rubber tube down the boy's throat.
Delia's hands were shaking again as she filled the kettle in the kitchenette. The fog from before was forming again and the pain in her head was reaching such a peak she felt like she was going to vomit. But through sheer willpower she forced the bile back down. She needed to make this cup of tea. Focus Busby, one small task at a time.
"It's well sugared." she offered the cup and saucer to the father, who was now pacing up and down outside the cubicle. "Mr..."
"Thomas." he grunted.
"Mr Thomas, you need to sit down."
She pulled up a chair and deposited the trembling man into it before handing him the tea.
"Drink up, it'll help."
He stared incredulously at the teacup. "You London folk seem to think tea fixes everything."
Delia's world swam again and she had to put her arm out to steady herself. Her peripheral vision was blurry and starting to go dark. She took a few deep breaths. Mr Thomas, so consumed in his own worries, didn't notice.
"I'm sorry, would you excuse me for a moment?"
Without waiting for a reply Delia darted to the bathroom. She barely made it in time before throwing up in the sink. She took a shuddering breath and turned on the taps, wiping her mouth and splashing her face with cold water.
For a moment there was no sound apart from the gush of water and the rush of blood in her head. She met the eyes of the woman in the mirror who stared back - dull blue framed with dark on a sea of pale white. Then a blinding hot pain shot through her head and the world went black.
Something was crawling on her face. She tried to swat it away but it wouldn't go. Her arms were heavy, like lead. Slowly muffled sounds began to appear, her brain taking a moment to process what they were saying. It seemed to be her name.
"Delia?"
Yes, that was her name, she was Delia.
"Delia can you hear me?"
Yes she could. She tried to open her mouth to respond but nothing came out. Okay, how about nodding her head?
Ouch. No. No, that was a bad idea.
Everything hurt. In particular her head. And she felt really sleepy. If only these voices would just leave her alone, she'd quite like a nap.
"Delia, wake up."
Someone was trying to spoil her fun it seemed. Reluctantly she tried to open her eyes.
As the light streamed in her other senses seemed to catch up. The muffled sounds became a bit clearer and she was aware of a soft pillow under her head.
She winced as a light shone in her eye.
The bright light was soon replaced by the grim face of Doctor Turner.
Delia blinked, her eyes watering slightly.
"Welcome back." came a new voice.
Delia looked to her right and came eye to eye with Valerie's stomach. Valerie herself followed and knelt down to the brunette's eye level.
The world was becoming much sharper now and Delia turned her head, testing its integrity. She still felt rather woozy and a little queasy.
"I'm sorry..." she said horsely "I think I'm going to be sick."
Pairs of hands instantly helped her to a sitting position while others provided her with a bowl. Once she'd finished she felt a lot better.
Valerie wiped her mouth with a damp cloth and adjusted the bed to a sitting position. Delia sank backwards into the pillow again. Then everything came flooding back. The accident, the man covered in motor oil, Mr Thomas, Andrew...
"Where's the boy?" she asked gasping "is he alive?"
"The ambulance took him a short time ago. He should be okay but they need to run some tests in case there's any internal damage." Doctor Turner smiled grimly.
Delia nodded and then wished she hadn't. Her eyes clamped shut again.
"Try not to move your head." Doctor Turner instructed. "Nurse Dyer could you get some water please?"
Valerie left, leaving Delia and the Doctor alone.
"I fainted?" Delia questioned a fact she already knew the answer to.
"Yes. And thankfully Nurse Dyer found you."
"Did I..." Delia gulped because she didn't really want to know the answer to this question.
"Have a seizure?" Doctor Turner finished her sentence. "I'm not sure. But we need to find out why this happened. Especially given your history."
"I'm okay. It was years ago, I haven't had a seizure in years." Delia said defensively.
"Maybe so, but fainting at work is never a good thing."
She couldn't argue with that. Thank goodness she hadn't been in the middle of the emergency when it had happened. She should have gone home - but things had happened, things had got in the way.
"Have you fainted before... recently I mean." Dr Turner asked gently.
"No." Delia scrambled with her mind, what was Patsy going to say? The poor woman didn't need more stress - maybe she didn't need to know about this. She could fix this, she just needed more sleep and some rest.
"Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"
Delia tried not to snort. "No. None whatsoever."
"I'm sorry, you know I have to ask these things." he replied sadly.
Delia gritted her teeth. His questioning wasn't going to end until he had a satisfactory answer so she might as well give him one.
"I've been feeling under the weather recently. Been getting a few headaches and not sleeping well. My monthlies just started and I've been on my feet all day, I skipped breakfast and lunch and then there was the incident earlier..."
Doctor Turner held up his hand. "It's alright Nurse Busby."
She blinked, expecting a rebuttal.
"If you're having trouble sleeping I can write you a prescription. Don't worry - " he added, noticing her alarmed look "nothing that will impede your work, just something that will help you get to sleep."
Delia relaxed visibly. Maybe it was a good idea. She wanted to be alert in case of any upset Patsy had during the night. But it wouldn't hurt to have it in case of a time when it was just her.
"I can also write you up something for the headaches. Have you been taking anything for them so far?"
Delia shook her head. "Only aspirin."
Doctor Turner frowned. "Well in that case, I'll send over a prescription as soon as I can. For now I recommend bed rest, fluids and some food. I'll drop the medication by Nonnatus this evening."
Delia smiled. "Thank you."
"Right. I'm off to the hospital to check on Andrew, the young lad."
"Could you let me know how he is?" Delia asked quickly.
"Of course."
Doctor Turner exited the room to be replaced by Valerie and a cup of water.
"Here you go." she offered the glass to the small nurse. "Drink up, then let's get you home."
Delia drank, not realising how thirsty she was until she was staring at the bottom of an empty glass.
Val reached for the water jug and refilled it.
"Look. I know it's not my place to pry..." she began.
Delia took a breath.
"... and I know that sentence is almost always followed by some sort of prying." she finished.
Delia began drinking her third glass of water.
"I'm worried about you." Valerie spoke softly.
Was it too bad to let someone in? Thought Delia. She'd said the exact same thing to Patsy more times than she could count, but nobody had ever said it to her. For once she had a rush of understanding as to how it felt to be on the receiving end of this comment. What do you even say to that? I'm fine. That's what you say. If you're Patsy.
"You've not been yourself recently and... well, I think I know why." Valerie interrupted her thoughts, looking around to make sure they were alone. "You're worried about Patsy."
Delia's eyes shot up in alarm.
"It's okay." Val sighed. "I know how much she means to you."
"I don't know what you mean." Delia lip quivered, the last line of defence cracking.
"Don't worry." Val held her hands up. "I'm not here to judge. I'm here to help."
Delia held her gaze steadily. Compassionate brown eyes stared back, open and without hidden agenda. She could trust those eyes. Couldn't she?
"I'm scared." whispered Delia, the words barely making it out in one comprehensive piece.
Val placed a warm hand on Delia's. "What are you scared of?"
What was she scared of? She'd never even admitted to herself she was scared until now. She was scared that Patsy would become lost in her own demons, that they would be discovered, that their relationship would end... That was the scariest part of all. She always thought they would stay together forever. But whatever this was, this wasn't a healthy thing for either of them.
"I'm scared for her." her voice now barely a whisper.
"That she won't get help?"
A small nod.
"Some people need time to realise they need help. Sometimes it takes someone else to suggest it, but often times they need to come to the decision on their own."
Delia's eyes welled with tears. "She's so stubborn."
"I know. But her stubbornness will be essential if she does decide to get help."
"If." Delia sniffed.
Val wrapped Delia into a tight hug. "Whatever happens, you need to make sure you're not destroying yourself. And this..." she indicated to Delia's position "is not good. For either of you."
Tears were falling thick and fast from Delia's eyes now as she cried silently into Val's shoulder. There was a certain feeling of helplessness she felt and it was tearing her apart from the inside out. How she wanted to help Patsy, to shoulder her pain, to bear it for her - that's what lovers did, didn't they? They shared each other's pain. Was she failing in her capacity as a lover because she was unable to help? No, Valerie was right, Patsy needed to come to terms with it in her own time, in her own way. The whole world could know Patsy needed help and she still wouldn't get it. Until she was ready.
Delia would have to live up to her girlfriend's namesake and be patient.
"How do I survive until she does decide?" she choked, the tears finally running dry.
Val sighed and held the smaller woman at arms length.
"You hold tight. You hold tight to that love you have and don't let it fade. Becuase she's going to need it, you're both going to need it later. Deciding you need help is a huge step, an important one, but it's not the end, it's the beginning. She's going to need you to be strong when it happens."
Val was right. And in her current state Delia was about as useful as a chocolate fireguard. She needed to figure out a way to make this work, to stop herself burning out but also be there for Patsy.
A task that seemed almost impossible, but was also essential.
"Are you going to tell her? About today." Val enquired softly.
"I don't know." Delia replied honestly. "I don't want to worry her more."
Val nodded. "But would you want to know? If she had fainted."
"Yes."
Val squeezed Delia's shoulder.
"Come on, lets get you back to Nonnatus, wrapped in a blanket and with a nice hot water bottle."
Delia grabbed Val's wrist as she made to leave.
"Thank you." she said sincerely.
"Any time. Really."