Patsy sat in silence in her Belgravia bedroom listening to the wearisome sounds of Delia busying herself in the bathroom. They'd had a long and emotionally exhausting night following Samuels's dramatic arrival at the party. The evening had lost all sounds of laughter and joy, the remaining guests excusing themselves before the tragic news was revealed. Nurse Crane had reassured Patsy that her shifts would be covered and that she was to take what time she needed with her family. Delia had said she would return to Nonnatus in Nurse Crane's motorcar but Liz and Samuel had both insisted she stay. Patsy was never so grateful to have Delia at her side. It's funny she thought that she Patsy mount; independent, wilful, anchorite, was so dependent on the small Welsh woman from Pembrokeshire. Was it acceptable to be so reliant on another person? She had spent so much of her life alone. In the camp after her mother and sister died, at boarding school and in a way in the nurse's home. She had her father, Liz, Charles and her cousins when she returned to England. But she had still felt so desperately lonely. Delia was her rock and she knew the sentiment was reciprocated.
Samuel had struggled to maintain any composure as he explained that Bertie and Mai had been involved in a motorcar accident. They had both been taken to St Thomas Hospital. He had no other news at that time. He had been contacted at the office after a police officer had found Bertie's business cards in a brief case. After phoning the hospital he had given the family's home telephone number and said they would await news.
The vigil was been long. Mr Godfrey had stayed up and personally saw the family were supplied with tea. Charles stood every half an hour or so and placed another log on the fire, needed or not. The crackle of the fire sounded louder to Delia than usual. The family were in shock and with no words in which to comfort each other they just sat.
It was past four o'clock in the morning when the shrill bell of the telephone echoed through to the sitting room. Momentarily they had all looked to each other but Patsy rose from the sofa she was sharing with Delia and lifted the heavy black receiver.
From then the night saw more tears shed and private prays muttered. Bertie was sedated but had no major injuries; a broken arm and a slight concussion. The nurse had asked about if they could shed any light on the pregnant Asian woman who was his passenger. Patsy had, without missing a beat, confirmed her identity as Mrs Mai Whitaker, wife of Bertram (Bertie) Whitaker. In doing so she had identified herself and the Whitakers as Mai's close family ensuring they could receive updates on her condition and that of the baby. It was arranged that unless they heard from the hospital in the mean time they would arrive there for three o'clock the following afternoon when the doctors would update them as to the couple's prognosis. Sleep had eluded them all for what remained of the night. The clocks in Belgravia Square had never moved so slowly. Time was too slow for those who waited, filing with fear, already grieving for the unknown. But the sun rose in the sky and the household carried on. They were served breakfast and lunch, both meals pushed about the plate by all, appetite as absent as conversation.
"Come on Pats" Delia said as she placed her coat over her arm. "We need to be ready to leave for the hospital in five minutes."
Patsy nodded and stood. She kissed Delia softly "thank you for being here Deels"
The Family walked out to the awaiting car, each wrapped warmly in their coats as they huddled against the biting wind. Charles had decided to stay at the house. He had several telephone calls to make and although he didn't share the nature of the urgent calls nobody questioned his wisdom.
Samuel sat in the front seat, staring at the passing streets as they weaved their way through London, the electric atmosphere of Christmas shoppers and the elaborate decorations and lights hanging over the streets were just a vague milieu. Liz sat with Patsy and Delia either side of her and she gripped their hands like the dying cling to life. Every movement was silent. They all provided comfort for each other but nothing non-essential passed verbally between them. Silence.
Delia had worked for two months at St Thomas's two years beforehand when she had been seconded from The London due to a staffing shortage. She led the family from the car to the bleak hospital reception and from reception to a small room on the second floor. The family room was small and smelt a little of stale smoke and disinfectant. The sofa and arm chair had seen better days, the fabric threadbare and herniating stained orange foam. The framed print on the beige woodchip wall conjured more feeling of despair than the idyllic Mediterranean image should.
"Would you like a cup of tea? There is a nurse's station just down the hall. I'm sure they will oblige?"
Samuel shook his head and then leant forward holding his head in his hands, his long fingers massaging into his scalp. Liz also refused leaving Delia feeling lost and of little use. Time continued to pass slowly. Being back in the hospital environment made Delia and Patsy more guarded in themselves. Just when they desperately wanted to draw comfort from each other's touch they kept their distance. It may be paranoia but they both knew that the society of hospital staff in London was smaller than one would think and rumours could travel rapidly from one hospital to another.
The door opened without a knock, two doctors and a nurse outfitted in the dark blue dress of a ward sister entered. The doctors introduced themselves as Mr Clark and Mr Schiazza, the nurse Sister Buxton. Mr Schiazza spoke first. He was the consultant in charge of Bertie's care and was positive about his condition. He reported that Mr Whitaker was awake and had passed the neurological examination. They would monitor him for another twenty four hours and then he could return home for bed rest. The broken arm had been set but by all accounts it should heal with little to no complications.
Mr Clark was an arrogant man. He sat with disinterest while Dr Schiazza spoke, lifting his head periodically only to inappropriately ogle Patsy or Delia. When Mr Schiazza excused himself to return to his rounds Mr Clark finally opened his notes. He recited as though like he was reading a script, devoid of emotion or conviction. "Mrs Whitaker was admitted as an emergency case, originally as a non-identified female. She had suffered a head injury and sustained massive internal bleeding. We carried out an emergency caesarean section and removed the child however the internal damage was too severe. She died on the table."
"Awwoh" came the wail of grief from Liz, Samuel embracing his mother as tears ran from his own eyes. Patsy couldn't supress her need for Delia and they held on to each other dearly, both shaking as soundless grief rolled from them in waves.
Patsy closed her tear filled eyes focusing as her own breath came and left slowly, it provided none of the relief that she had come to value from the exercise in the past. When she opened her eyes she watched Mr Clark walk to the door. "And the baby?"
"A girl" he said simply as he left.
"Sister Buxton?" Patsy said with a quivering voice.
Sister Buxton had to calm herself to ensure she remained professional following Mr Clarke's appalling behaviour. He was by all accounts an excellent emergency surgeon but his manner was the cause of grief for patients, families and staff alike. "A healthy baby girl weighing six pounds and two ounces. She is in the baby unit and doing very well. She's a fighter."
Their sobs were filled for the pain of Bertie's grief and the loss the baby was yet to know. Pain at the loss of the woman they had only known for three weeks and the relief that her child had survived.
Samuel, was more visibly relieved than the rest. He had to be strong for his brother and niece. "Mother, let's go and see Bertie. I don't think I will quite believe he is fine until I see him with my own two eyes. Will you two go to the baby? The poor little thing all alone. Make sure she's alright?"
Patsy led Delia onto the post-natal ward, following the blue signs through the maze of corridors. The maternity and post-natal unit should have been so familiar to her, an almost exact replica of The London however she felt foreign and unsure. Delia took Patsy's arm as they waited for a nurse by the neat nurse's station desk. They had not arrived more than a minute before a rotund blond midwife approached. "Can I help you ladies? You're too early for visiting I'm afraid."
Delia greeted the nurse and introduced themselves. "We're here to see Baby Whitaker"
"And can I ask what relation you are to the baby?"
Patsy in her most authorities tone replied "We're her aunts"
They were led to a room which contained eight plastic bassinets. Only three had babies in them, two of which were sleeping and one crying almost quietly. Patsy walked in first, closely followed by Delia who had explained to the nurse that Patsy was a community midwife. Patsy knew the crying child was her niece, the bawling sound was filled with an unknown grief. She checked the board on the bassinet 'Baby Whitaker. Mother Diseased.' She bent over the bassinet and scooped the baby into her well-practiced arms, the blanket that swaddled her little body a little looser than she would like. She cradled the baby, her hands feeling larger than usual with the tiny being contained so secure. She lifted the baby's head to her lips and kissed her crown tenderly. She couldn't speak. She wanted so desperately to whisper calming words to the unsettled baby but she couldn't make any words bypass the lump that felt to be growing in her throat.
Delia placed her own kiss on the baby's head "hello beautiful girl. Your safely in your Aunt Patsy's arms and you tad is just a little ways away but he's here. And so is your nain and your uncle Sam. You are a much loved little baby." Patsy softly swayed the bundle as Delia discretely held her hand against Patsy's supporting the baby's head. Delia hummed and Patsy fought back the tiers that threatened to fall on the precious and beautiful face of the baby.
The couple embraced the baby for over an hour, taking it in turns to hold the little girl close, both desperate she feel the love they already had for her. After the first quarter of an hour the baby settled and had remained soundly asleep since. Nurses came and went, checking the other two babies who barely murmured and checking they had what they needed.
"Rwy'n mewn cariad â eich modryb. Ac mae'r ddau ohonom yn caru chi."
Patsy had always found comfort in Delia's Welsh mutterings, the lyrical tone melodic through her voice, as velvety as the babies own soft cheek. "And what is your aunt telling you little one?" Her own whisper sang through the quiet room.
Delia looked at the small viewing window on the far side of the room before she quickly and cautiously kissed her love's lips. "I told her I'm in love with her aunt" She ran her thumb over Patsy's lips removing the small smudge of lipstick. "And that we both love her so very much."
Liz stepped into the room, the door shutting silently behind her. "Is this my granddaughter?"
"It is indeed. Meet Baby Whitaker" Patsy held the baby up to her aunt who took her unsteadily into her arms.
"Hello, aren't you just the most beautiful little girl." Liz looked lovingly at the baby but appeared uneasy. Delia guided her to a rocking chair in the corner of the room. She sat and looked at Delia in thanks.
Patsy adjusted where the blanket had loosened further exposing the baby's wrinkled foot. "How is Bertie?"
"Heartbroken but physically he seems fine. He's eager to get home. He's also eager for the baby to be out of the hospital too. He's talking of a Mara and evil spirits. Could it be the pain relief making him ramble so?"
"They may well, although with a closed fracture it isn't standard to give strong pain medication. His concussion may be causing delusions."
The conversation about Bertie's recovery pattered out to the now familiar silence. The three woman focused on the sleeping baby. "I'm going to need your help girls. I feel awful but it never occurred to me I would need to buy things for the baby. I presumed that Bertie and Mai…" Liz hugged the baby closer. "I spoke with Sister Buxton on my way in. They say the baby is healthy and we can take her home when we are ready. I think word has spread that you are a midwife Patience." Then the silence came again. Delia stood and walked out of the room, Patsy watching her go and closing he eyes to the pain.
Delia hadn't been out of the room for many minutes before she returned with a small note pad and pencil.
"Right, First things first. What does a baby need? Pats?"
Patsy stammered, she knew this advice like she knew the back of her hand but looking at the hapless infant she was lost. "Napkins, we usually recommend a mother buys at least six but put two dozen on the list; bottles, put down half a dozen; Miltons Sterilising tablets and bottle bucket; formula; vests and clothing; blankets; a cot…" Patsy looked at her aunt and then Delia. "She needs so much and its Christmas Eve today. God, I hadn't even remembered."
"I think you know some people that may be able to help cariad! What would she need tonight?"
"Napkins, a bottle and formula, a blanket and a cot"
"Patience, there is a Moses Basket at the house. It was Samuels so it's rather old but would it be ok? It's been in my bedroom. I could never bring myself to get rid."
"It would but…"
"I'm sure the staff here can provide formula and some napkins Cariad?"
Liz and Delia both looked to Patsy. She was never sure why she was often the one to make the final decision. The baby did appear healthy and the meagre supplies they could muster would be more than many families in Poplar had. They would take the baby back to a warm clean house, full of love. She looked at the slumbering baby. She had always believed that home was the best place for a new born baby. Their world had turned into a whirlwind. She felt as though she was caught in a strong current dragging her, throwing her out to sea. But there was Delia, looking at her with those eyes. Eyes that look at her as though she can do anything. If she was caught in a current she knew she had her rock to cling on to. "I will go and speak with Sister Buxton. If they can supply us some napkins and formula we will take her home with us tonight. It's past seven already and I think we are all in need of rest."
Patsy curled around Delia in their bed. "Did you phone the London?"
Delia snuggled into Patsy's chest. It felt so long since they were in this position at she felt as though the intimate embrace rejuvenated her like the sun did the flowers. "I told them I had suffered a family bereavement. I have four days compassionate leave."
"Thank you for everything Deels" Patsy said as she brushed a stray hair away from her Delia's eye. "I love you so very much."
"And I love you but hush now cariad. Sleep. The morning will arrive before we are ready and I think we face a busy day."
Patsy kissed Delia tenderly, rejoicing in the comfort of her lovers arms. "Merry Christmas Deels."
"Merry Christmas Pats."