"You can stay here as long as you need sweetie." Earnest blue eyes peered at her through a veil of cigarette smoke, the expression on Trixie's face so genuinely welcoming that it was hard to refuse.
"I know Trix. You've opened up your home to me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." Patsy gestured about the room, indicated the boxes piled practically to the ceiling. "But it's just not feasible for me to take up so much of your space."
She'd returned to her home on Sunday to find boxes shoved haphazardly on the front stoop. To Lucy ruthlessly rummaging through shared belongings and carelessly throwing things into yet more boxes. She must have been working on it through the night, her eyes glazed and red, her movements jerky. Patsy winced as she cast a book viciously into the nearest open box. Her actions so uncharacteristic, so disrespectful, that Patsy was actually stunned.
Lucy had ignored her presence, her determination to pack (or discard) every last item of Patsy's bordering on mania.
Lucy's sister Helena had shaken her head when Patsy tried to intervene. Had gestured wordlessly for Patsy to follow her into the kitchen. Where the TARDIS teapot lay in shards in the corner.
Patsy only barely choked back a sob.
She'd had a painful, stilted conversation with Helena. Lucy's older sister had been a big part of their lives, and she was clearly torn by the situation. But her natural loyalty lay with her sister, and so she'd been stern with Patsy. Arranged to have all of Patsy's belongings laid out on the front porch so she could get a truck to pick them up later that day.
Patsy could do nothing more than thank her.
Took her keys out of her pocket and detached the house key from the ring by feel alone. Her eyes blurring with tears that she stubbornly refuse to let fall.
Helena had squeezed her hand, just once, as she handed over the key. A sympathetic expression softening her features briefly, before a crash from the living room caught her attention.
Patsy had walked out of the house as Helena rushed off to check on Lucy. The click of the door as it latched behind her echoed, unnaturally loud. Punctuating the finality.
She'd managed to hire a van at the last moment, had single handedly stacked the surprisingly large assortment of boxes into the back and transported them the short distance to Trixie's flat. She hadn't realised how many possessions she'd managed to acquire in the last three years. A small, neatly taped box sat in the passenger seat beside her. It was marked FRAGILE in Helena's neat, teacher handwriting, and Patsy fervently hoped that it contained the few precious treasures that remained of her mother's.
Several of the larger boxes had tinkled ominously as she lifted them.
It had taken her longer than expected to move all the boxes, had been almost late for her shift that afternoon by the time she returned the van. Had worked back to back shifts when another doctor called in sick, and barely caught six hours sleep before she was due back at the hospital again.
So it was many days later before she stood in Trixie's living room. Surveying the cluttered remains of her life and wondering what precisely she was meant to do now.
Despite Trixie's protestations she knew she couldn't stay at the flat for any length of time. Her best friend's offer was heartfelt, but Patsy knew it wasn't sustainable. Trixie needed her space as much as Patsy did. She knew that she'd already cramped Trixie's style (and love life) by her presence. The nurse was never short of company, and although Patsy didn't understand, she respected Trixie's fierce independence and unwillingness to commit to anything that was not on her terms.
"I just don't want you to feel like you have to rush off and accept the first dingy little hole that becomes available Patsy. You really are welcome here until you find your feet."
A wry grin. "Don't worry Trix. I've absolutely no intention of sharing some filthy student digs. I'll find a nice place, but I'll do it sooner rather than later."
They both stared glumly at the mountain of mismatched containers housing Patsy's possessions. She hadn't had time to open more than a couple, mostly to confirm that the clinking sounds had indeed been indicative of broken items. Predominantly photo frames, but also a crystal decanter that her father had shipped to her to mark Patsy's graduation from medical school.
She'd never liked the thing. It was just one more reminder that her father didn't know her, or care to know her, at all. It still stung though.
Luckily the small parcel did contain her mother's things. Carefully sandwiched between socks and scarves and winter mittens. Helena had obviously rescued them before Lucy had gotten to the bedroom. Or Lucy had decided to spare them. It was impossible to know.
Patsy was still shocked at Lucy's behaviour. Not so much angry as bewildered. Honestly, she'd treated Lucy so abominably Patsy really felt she deserved just about anything that Lucy happened to dish out. But it was startlingly foreign seeing Lucy so brutal. So uncaring.
"You could hire a storage locker."
"I could." She turned to face Trixie. "And I certainly will if you can't tolerate this mess at all. But if you could spare me a week or two it will save me having to shift it all twice."
"Oh for goodness sake." Exasperated blue eyes rolled. "I don't care about that Patsy. I simply hate the idea of you rushing into something." A pause. "It's been a tumultuous couple of months for you sweetie. I'm concerned you're not in the right frame of mind to be making big decisions."
"I'm talking about a six month lease here Trixie. It's not like I'm going to buy a penthouse on Canary Wharf."
Trixie had reluctantly agreed to allow Patsy a chance to peruse the To Let listings on condition that she had veto on anything inappropriate. And in the end her hovering had driven Patsy to distraction and so Trixie took over, proudly presenting a bemused Patsy with a shortlist of potential dwellings that she deemed worthy of inspection.
"Now why don't you call Delia and find out if she can come along and inspect them with you? I imagine she'll be spending quite a bit of time at yours, she might as well get a say in it."
Patsy had scoffed. Protested half-heartedly.
Then disappeared to her room to do precisely that.
Delia had been surprisingly subdued when they met up, traipsing good naturedly about inner London from estate agent's offices to apartments to flats but offering little in the way of her customary commentary. Patsy noted it, saw the lingering shadows in blue eyes, the tightening of her mouth. But they were on a tight deadline, and when Delia grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the next rental property Patsy decided to bring it up later.
There had been a few decent apartments, but none of them really felt right until the second last stop on the agenda.
It was a flat in an older building. The outside looked careworn, but the security on the doors was recently updated. The elevator was slow, but smooth, disgorging them on the fifth floor into a corridor that looked like the set of a hotel in an old movie. The carpet soft, the walls clean, the brass sconces gleamed in the muted light.
Swinging noiselessly on well oiled hinges, the door opened to reveal a renovated apartment with a traditional feel. The fittings were modern, offset by timber floorboards, honest to goodness old fashioned picture rails on the walls, shutters on the windows and a sense of timelessness that permeated the space.
It was love at first sight.
Patsy wandered from the kitchen (stainless steel appliances) to the bathroom (a real claw footed tub!) to the bedroom (walk in robes, how did they even fit in this space?) to the large panel windows in the living room. And there she stopped, entranced by the late afternoon sunlight gilding the bare branches of trees in the park across the street.
After several moments she became of aware of Delia's indulgent smile. Flushed self-consciously before dragging herself away from the window.
"Stop making fun of me."
"I'm not!" Indignant.
"I can tell that you're laughing at me."
"I'm really not Pats." A pause. "You already seem so at home here. I was just… Enjoying your enthusiasm."
"Hmph."
They stared at each other for a long moment as the light outside dimmed perceptibly. The sparkle fading from Delia's eyes prompted Patsy to bridge the gap between them. Clasped small hands in her own.
"What's wrong Deels?"
"What do you mean?" Delia pulled her hands away, voice brittle.
"Come on now. I can see that something is bothering you." A pause. "It has been all afternoon."
Delia's expression hardened for a moment. Her mouth tightening in displeasure. Before the tension wilted suddenly from her shoulders and she stepped forward. Startling Patsy by wrapping her arms tightly around the taller woman's waist. Patsy's arms moved quite without her conscious permission. Threaded around Delia's body and squeezed.
She could feel Delia's heart beating against her chest. Feel the Welsh woman's lips brush delicately against the skin of Patsy's neck for a single, breathtaking second. Before she burrowed into the hollow of Patsy's shoulder.
Patsy held her for an endless, beautiful moment. Allowed the scent of Delia's hair, the feel of the petite body in her arms, to simply overwhelm her senses. Interrupted only when her phone chirruped incessantly. The estate agent checking when she was going to return the keys.
She didn't let Delia escape though, held her hand as she finished up her conversation with the agent.
"Let's go and return these keys. Put in an application. Then I'm taking you out for a drink and you can tell me what's going on."
Delia's meek acquiescence was worrying.
An hour later she placed a pint of cider in front of Delia. Along with a packet of crisps and a menu. Opted to slide into the booth seat next to the smaller woman rather than across the table. Delia sipped her pint meditatively until Patsy could stand it not a moment longer. Cupped the Welsh woman's jaw before gently tilting her head to face Patsy.
"Tell me. Please."
"It's my Mam. I spoke to her a few days ago for the first time in ages." A breath. "My uncle Dafydd passed away. Mam is demanding that I go back to Wales for the funeral." A pause. "I don't think I can stand to." Ragged.
"Oh Delia…"
"I want to pay my respects to Dafydd. I really do. He was my favourite relative when I was a child. He took me fishing and climbing trees and he never cared that Mam said girls shouldn't do such things." Delia shook her head, almost as if she were trying to clear out memories. "But I just can't go back there. With her."
"No one is going to force you to go Deels."
"I know that. But it doesn't stop me feeling guilty about it. My Aunty Megan must be devastated."
Patsy's heart clenched, responding to the forlorn longing in Delia's voice. Moisture had started to gather in Delia's eyes, building on her lower lashes until she blinked. Scattering crystal fragments across her cheeks.
"And I feel ridiculous complaining about things when I know you're going through so much as well." Voice taut and unsteady. "You had to deal with… The break up. And it clearly didn't go well if you're already looking for a new place."
"Don't even think about me now."
"How can I not?"
"What?"
"You're all I can think about most of the time." A breath. "You didn't call." Barely audible. "Or text or message or anything. It's been almost a whole week Patsy."
"Deels…"
"I didn't know what was going on. I thought…" Choked. "I thought maybe you'd gone back to her."
"Never." Vehement. "Oh Deels, I'm so sorry." Heart breaking, Patsy took in Delia's haunted, hollowed features. Slumped posture. Kicked herself for causing this grief. "Honestly Deels, that was never… NEVER… an option. I should have made that clearer."
Delia gazed at her, caught somewhere between pain and grief and hope and Patsy hated herself in that moment. Despised the fact that she seemed to keep causing pain to the people she cared about. That she loved. It had to stop.
"Delia Busby, I love you. Don't ever doubt that, do you hear me?"
The Welsh woman nodded slowly. Eyes still locked with Patsy's.
"I'm not very good at feelings. At relationship things. But you need to know that I love you. I don't think I've ever not loved you. I'm so sorry that you doubted that. That I made you feel that way."
"I'm being silly because of my Mam…"
"You're not." Emphatic. "You're not… You're going through a horrible time and I wasn't there to support you or make you feel secure. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
Patsy reached up, used her thumbs to gently wipe away the tears that had accumulated on Delia's pale cheeks. Responded to the yearning in bright blue eyes by cupping Delia's jaw. Drawing their faces together.
When their lips met it wasn't the fireworks or the passion of their youth. It wasn't about attraction or seduction.
It was a promise.
It tasted of salt and grief and experience and love. Of second chances.
As she drew back Patsy heard Delia sigh. Felt a delicate breath against her lips, the tension release from the compact body in her grasp.
Opened her eyes to see clear blue looking back. Bright and content and forgiving.
"I love you too, Patsy."