Patsy knew that she needed to write back to her aunt; moreover, she knew that time was running out. With just three days remaining until the sentencing, she was feeling decidedly uneasy; she had to have some sort of plan in place or she and Delia were running the risk of finding themselves residing at the local Travelodge for the foreseeable future. The excitement that had exuded from the small brunette from the moment she had realised exactly what Patsy had been struggling to tell her, had caused a surge of relief to course through the redhead's being. For days, Delia had been unable to wipe the wide smile from her face; she had chattered endlessly about colour schemes and decor, relishing the opportunity to plan every little detail of her, as yet unseen, new home, either oblivious to, or, at the very least, unperturbed by Patsy's guarded responses to her barrage of eager requests for details. Delia's enthusiasm and excitement were positively palpable, but the smile that graced Patsy's face as she listened to the brunette's incessant babble, stretched no further than her lips.
"You'll see soon enough," was her somewhat withering response.
The redhead had not felt able to elaborate further on the content of her aunt's letter. She couldn't bear to admit to Delia that her father had effectively rejected her yet again. And, not just her, this time...also the woman that she loved, which made it so much harder to swallow. Patsy sat at the kitchen table and silently agonised about what to write; should she come clean and put her aunt in the picture, in a way that her father clearly hadn't bothered to?...or should she take the easy route and simply introduce Delia as her good friend and, in so doing, avoid the issue entirely? As far as she was aware, her aunt suspected nothing of her romantic inclination, and so her story would appear perfectly plausible.
Patsy chewed the end of her pen and sighed.
"Dear Aunt Elizabeth,
Thank you so much for your letter; it was most wonderful to hear from you.
As far as we know, the sentencing will go ahead next Tuesday and, all being well, I will leave the house the following day. We have been advised that cars will be made available to transfer us back to our chosen location and so I have asked that arrangements be made for a room to be booked for Wednesday night at the Chamberlain Hotel; I thought that this would be a good starting point, and perhaps you will be able to pick us up from there, as we will not have access to a car straight away. Delia and I can easily book an additional night or two, should that be necessary. May I suggest that you leave word at reception?
I do so look forward to seeing you.
Much love,
Patience
Patsy re-read the letter, unable to banish the scowl which crept across her face. She was so annoyed with herself, utterly ashamed of her inability to simply tell the truth, and she felt intensely guilty for what she perceived as her betrayal of Delia. Patsy knew that this letter was, in reality, a complete and total cop-out; she was well aware that, from what she had written, her aunt would merely assume that Delia was a friend and nothing more. This was clearly not going to make life easier in the long term but, for now, it was all that she could bring herself to do. Staring angrily at the paper before her, the redhead silently berated her father for his part in creating this wholly uncomfortable scenario.
The days that followed saw a shift in the atmosphere within the house. All four girls were somewhat preoccupied and, in the case of Trixie in particular, distinctly short-tempered. Packing had commenced and the abundance of clothing, piled around the bedroom, was causing more than a little disquiet.
"Barbara!" snapped Trixie, as the hapless brunette, yet again, tripped, scattering a pile of neatly folded clothes onto the floor.
"I'm sorry," blustered Barbara desperately "...I was trying to avoid treading on your shoes, there really isn't much space to walk. I mean, how many pairs do you have exactly?"
Trixie glared at her room mate, before continuing to order her vast collection of pots of nail varnish.
Across the hall, Patsy was taking great care to fold her shirts into perfect squares whilst Delia, who had adopted a far less orthodox and time consuming technique of simply stuffing her clothes in a haphazard fashion into a hold-all, looked on in disbelief.
"It's like watching Monica Geller in action! Are you sure that you have never worked for M&S?" she teased. Patsy flushed.
"We travelled a lot when I was young; we had to learn how to pack our clothes properly, or one would end up with an awful lot of ironing on arrival," she replied defensively, but a glance at Delia's twinkling eyes brought the realisation that her girlfriend was jesting, and she smiled good naturedly.
Mealtimes were when the shift in mood became most prevalent. The customary easy conversation had become more and more reflective and, at times, the four would slip into silence, each contemplating what the coming weeks would mean for them. Patsy had become increasingly aware that even Delia's flawlessly sunny demeanor had started to crack. The younger woman was clearly doing her best to try and disguise it but, for the one closest to her, her newly muted enthusiasm was impossible to ignore.
Patsy had tried to gently probe her about it, the anxiety gnawing away within as she fretted over the possibility that her girl might be having second thoughts about moving in with her. Delia had instantly attempted to reassure her, making light of her subdued mood, claiming that she was simply feeling a little under the weather. Patsy knew that there was more to it, but was powerless to dredge the truth from the stubborn Welsh woman.
When Monday evening finally arrived, the melancholy atmosphere was all consuming. Barbara arrived late to the dinner table her eyes red and swollen, whilst Patsy watched helplessly as a pale faced Delia mindlessly pushed the food around her plate, not one forkful making it to her mouth. Trixie, meanwhile, sought solace in the one remaining bottle of wine; the quality of which was so poor that she screwed up her face in disgust as she forcibly swallowed each mouthful. Earlier that afternoon, Louise had gathered them all together and tried her best to bolster their flagging spirits; even she, however, knew that only the course of time and the inevitable resolution of legal proceedings would restore their peace of mind.
After dinner, one by one, they each made their excuses and disappeared off in search of solitude. Trixie locked herself away in the bathroom, testing out the soothing properties of a long soak in a warm bubble bath. Delia slipped unnoticed into the grounds and paced the gardens, inhaling deeply, relishing the sting of the salty sea air, whilst Barbara busied herself with the entirely unnecessary task of emptying and re-folding the contents of her case. The calmest of the four, Patsy made a valiant attempt at reading a book...although if truth be told, she never got further than the first page, such was her distraction.
When 11pm eventually rolled around, they all fell gratefully into bed, thankful that the day was done and the waiting was almost over; each willing the shroud of sleep to consume them. For Barbara, the effect of having shed so many tears during the course of the day meant that she slipped quickly into an exhausted slumber. Both Trixie and Patsy lay in the darkness for some time, lost in their thoughts, before finally drifting off to sleep. Delia, however, stared miserably at the far wall, well aware that rest would not come easily to her that night.
.
.
.
The bedroom was in darkness and, for a few minutes, Patsy couldn't figure out why she had stirred. She shifted slightly in her bed and quickly realised that the warm, comforting presence to which she had become so accustomed over the recent months, was absent. Her initial thought was that Delia had popped to the bathroom and she promptly relaxed back into her pillow, waiting expectantly for the reassuring sound that would indicate that her sweet girl would soon be back beside her.
She was slipping into the contented haze of sleep once again, when her subconscious began to nag at her. There was no sound from the bathroom; Delia wasn't in there. Patsy rubbed her eyes and forced herself into a sitting position. She strained to listen, in a last ditch attempt to ensure that she wasn't going to drag herself out of bed for no reason. Silence. She reached across to touch the sheet beside her and, the realisation that it was stone cold, prompted her to swing her legs over the side of the bed and pull herself to her feet.
Patsy ventured out onto the landing, doing her best to avoid disturbing the others. She was well aware that the day ahead was going to be long and stressful and she knew that they all needed to get as much sleep as possible.
This was, without doubt, a very positive milestone to have reached, after so many months of uncertainty, but the four women were dealing with far more complex emotions. They would not and could not return to the lives that they had been leading prior to entering the house. Circumstances had changed irrevocably, in some cases on several levels. As individuals, each of them had developed too. They had discovered so much about themselves and gleaned huge insight from living in such close quarters with the others. Patsy permitted herself a small smile; six months previously, she would have laughed if anyone had suggested that she might find herself in the position that she now did. For her, at least, her time at the house had been a revelation.
Reaching the first floor landing, she could see a trace of light escaping from beneath the door to the kitchen.
"Bingo!" she thought to herself, with a nod of satisfaction.
She quietly opened the door and took in the sight before her. Delia was sat at the kitchen table, her head down on her arms, sound asleep; beside her was a cold cup of tea. Patsy smiled sadly as she crept across to her. She was reluctant to wake her yet could not help but assume that, in her current position, Delia would be desperately uncomfortable.
Fearful of startling her girl, Patsy reached out and very gently touched her hand. It was as cold as ice. Delia stirred at the contact, her face registering confusion as to her location and she promptly groaned in discomfort, her hand instinctively reaching up to try and relieve her aching neck.
"It's ok, sweetheart, it's only me," whispered Patsy softly.
Delia blinked hard, finally managing to focus on the redhead.
"I woke up and you were gone...what are you doing down here?"
Delia shrugged. "I couldn't sleep," she murmured, her teeth starting to chatter as her body registered just how chilly it was in the kitchen.
Patsy quickly knelt beside her and began rubbing her arms in an attempt to generate some warmth. Delia smiled weakly, and wearily lay her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. It was something of an unprecedented role reversal but the normally calm, self assured Welsh girl, had to concede that she was ready to allow the redhead to take care of her. For her part, Patsy revelled in the opportunity to provide much needed support.
"I'm scared, Pats," whispered Delia.
Patsy frowned into the brunette's shoulder holding her snugly and stroking her hair.
"What are you frightened of?" she coaxed
"I don't really know..." admitted Delia quietly, "I have tried not to think about the sentencing and what that could mean. I am looking forward to getting my life back, embarking on my future with you but I'm nervous of what's out there. I have never felt so uncertain before; maybe those 'bastardiaid' have affected me more than I realised.
Patsy eased her back, stroked her hair out of her face and looked her in the eyes.
"Whatever is out there, darling, we will face it together. One thing at a time, OK?"
Delia nodded slowly.
"Come on, you need to come back to bed."
She caught the look of reluctance sweep across Delia's face.
"Look, even if you don't want to sleep, you are going to cuddle up to me and get warm."
Unable to deny her thermally challenged state, Delia allowed Patsy to pull her to her feet and, with the redhead's arm firmly around her, she obediently shuffled back up the stairs.
Patsy had never seen Delia appear so small; this was nothing to do with her physical stature. At just shy of 5ft 3, she was admittedly not the tallest woman in the world, particularly when pitched against the statuesque redhead, but her self assured presence and vivacious personality always made her seem like a much greater presence than her height suggested. Tonight, however, the brunette seemed to have lost her sparkle; in its place, exhaustion and uncharacteristic fear. Patsy battled with the desire to simply scoop her up into her arms, carry her up the remaining stairs and tuck her into bed like a small child.
Once she had coaxed her as far as the bed, Patsy lifted the bedclothes and eased the shivering girl under the blankets. She quickly climbed in alongside her and, enveloping her in a warm embrace, Patsy encouraged Delia to rest her head on her chest. Despite her earlier protestations, within minutes the shivering petered out and Patsy felt her girlfriend's breathing become deeper and more regular. She smoothed her hair, feeling fiercely protective as she watched over her.
"I will never let anybody hurt you," she whispered softly.
