Delia had been out with Robert a few times since new year, and it had gone well.
Well enough.
She did like Robert, and they generally found things to talk about. She had even held his hand the last couple of times, and it had been fine. She hadn't been repulsed or embarrassed or anything unpleasant that would really indicate that she wasn't interested in him, even if his larger hand had made her feel a little like a child being escorted across the road. There hadn't been fireworks, but then who could expect so much of a hand? She tried not to remember that when she held Patsy's hand it felt like coming home, and like there were suddenly more nerve endings in her palm and fingers than she'd ever realised before, and like she never wanted to let go...No. No one could expect a hand to be magical.
Anyway, Robert was nice. Very nice. And objectively very handsome in a bookish sort of way. Joan thought so too, she'd said so... She really ought to be utterly besotted with him. Or at least to have some sort of an interest in kissing him goodnight, instead of turning it into a chaste hug as she always had at the end of the evening so far. If she was really honest with herself, it was getting hard to believe that her feelings for Robert were or ever could be more than friendship.
And then there were the memories.
She had been remembering more recent things over the last few days. Including what had gone wrong with her parents. Now more than ever she wished she could confide her memories to Patsy, to work through them together until they didn't have such power over her anymore. They had done it before, every time something difficult or upsetting came up. This time was different though – she didn't dare tell Patsy, because if she did the implication would be all too clear.
Mam had known.
All the arguments Delia had presented herself with on Christmas night to explain away her feelings for Patsy as an illusion just blew away when faced with the irrefutable evidence that mam had known for years that she was interested in women rather than men.
When she had been young enough not to understand her own feelings, Delia had spoken rather too freely of her admiration for another girl in her class, listing her virtues in a happy burble to mam. After that she supposed it hadn't taken as much to put the idea in her head – Delia had never been interested in her male classmates, and although she had never actually had a relationship with another girl (not so far as she could remember now anyway), she had had one or two unusually close and intense friendships over the years.
By the time she was fifteen, mam had been talking about her future husband in very certain terms and trying to get Delia to behave in a way she considered more appropriate, starting with giving up her dream of nursing. Her parents had very particular views about the role of women, and while doing a little work in a shop or office while young was acceptable, an actual career was seen as rather shameful and indecent. That had been the reason mam had only worked a few months in the munitions factory during the war - when the news reached her father's regiment he had written home forbidding her mother from continuing her work. Since she hadn't been conscripted to it and was not legally obliged to stay, Mam had come home, and Delia had had to leave nain's house.
Then one day mam had discovered Rhys trying on one of Delia's school skirts and blazers, and things had gone from bad to worse. Her cousins had been sent home, never to return, and Delia had been soundly punished for her part in letting it happen. Naively she had told her mam that Rhys had been wearing her uniform when they played for years, there wasn't anything bad about it, he just liked skirts. Looking back it seemed obvious that that would only serve to make things much worse, but at the time Delia hadn't understood why it should make her so upset. It was just a game.
But after that mam had been more suspicious of everything she did, convinced she had been influenced into 'perverse and unnatural inclinations'. She had insisted Delia give up all thoughts of working at her own career and settle down in earnest to become a wife and mother. When Delia refused, her father had been brought in as back up.
Even now it was difficult to tell how much he had known about her mother's suspicions, but it seemed enough for him that Delia wanted a career, and had no plans to get married, and showed far less devotion to God than he felt she should. He had told her that children must obey their parents, and she had been told she was not to become a nurse. The argument had flared up frequently, and Delia's teenage years had been fraught with tension, especially as mam no longer allowed her to have friends in her bedroom. Eventually, when it came time for her application to study nursing, the final argument had torn them irrevocably apart.
Mam had come into her bedroom while she was studying for her final A level examinations and sat down beside her, for once not complaining at Delia's reading on the bed rather than sitting up properly at her desk. She had started out so friendly, asking about Delia's revision and class work and offering to take her out for coconut cake that Saturday – something they hadn't done since... well, since before Rhys. And then she had dropped the bombshell.
'Your father and I have been talking – we've considered it for years, but it's never been the right time. You're almost finished at school now though, and we think we'd all benefit from a fresh start. Somewhere with less lax, modern values'.
'Pembrokeshire's hardly modern mam'.
'Don't interrupt'.
She had sounded stern for a moment, but then she caught herself and smiled again.
'Well anyway, what I wanted to tell you is – it's the most lovely surprise for you. As soon as you've finished your exams, we're all leaving for Canada. We've done quite a bit of research and we've found the perfect little town with a good, strong Christian community'.
She beamed at Delia, as though she expected her to be delighted... although the tension in her shoulders suggested she knew it wouldn't be that simple. Delia stared back, uncomprehending. Was it some sort of odd joke? It didn't make any sense.
'What are you talking about mam? I can't go away on holiday now, I'm working all through the summer, to save for the things I'll need to take for training. And Canada's so far – how can we afford a holiday there anyway?'
'Now don't be silly cariad. It's not a holiday, we're moving there for good. It's all arranged, I applied for a passport for you and it arrived last week, and your father's seeing to the tickets. It'll be good for you to get away from corrupting influences-'
'I suppose you mean nain?'
'My mother has been undermining our authority with you for too long. If it wasn't for her you'd have given up this silly nursing nonsense years ago, but as it is you've been drifting further and further from us, and from the church. You used to be such a good girl. At least most of the time'.
'I used to be afraid. Nain was the one who supported me and made me see I wasn't bad or wrong for wanting my own life. But I'm not afraid now. I'm almost eighteen, I've sent off my applications, all I need to do is get the grades and I'm going to London. It's too late. You can't make me go anymore mam!'
Delia had leapt up off her bed, trying uselessly to get away from her mother's words. They couldn't just kidnap her could they? Surely her mam couldn't mean it. Canada? And if she refused to go (she was refusing), would they really go without her? Would they leave their daughter alone and put the entire Atlantic ocean between them? They had had their differences, but she had never imagined for a moment that it would come to this. She stood very still in the middle of her bedroom, her heart lurching painfully as she gazed back at her mother, who had risen to her feet as well now and was giving her a look of mingled sternness and sorrow.
'Mam? You don't really mean it do you? What about all your friends? And nain? She's getting old, she'll need help... I know you don't get along, but she's still your mam. You're not really just going to go are you?'
Delia's eyes were filling with tears, although she was trying hard to blink them away. If it had just been the two of them there was a chance that things might have gotten better after that. Mam loved Wales, it was hard to believe she really wanted to leave either. They might have been able to discuss it. At least they might have parted on better terms. But before she could draw breath to reply her door slammed open and they both jumped.
'Delia Busby, what is all this shouting and thumping?'
Dad.
She wasn't scared though (at least she told her thumping heart sternly that she wasn't), she turned on him, arms folded, glaring.
'Mam says you're going to Canada'.
'We are going, yes. I have decided to take my family somewhere safe, away from corrupting influences and modern vice. I should have taken you years ago, but it isn't too late. You will have a chance to do penance for your sins over the last few years, and then you shall be able to make a good marriage to a man from a strong, religious background. Your mother insists you should be allowed to finish your exams first, but if you can't be sensible about it we don't have to wait for the end of the year. I can send you and your mother away in a week, and join you there when business is wrapped up here'.
Her father was showing all the warning signs of imminent rage that would normally have made her back down and submit – anything for a quiet life, but he had gone too far this time. She couldn't meekly obey anymore. She wouldn't.
'I'm not going anywhere. You can't force me'.
For a long, tense moment dad stared hard at her, the rage burning in his eyes as he waited for her to back down. When she didn't he had said in his softest, most dangerous voice:
'Honour thy father and thy mother Delia. If you cannot do that then you don't deserve to have parents. You will respect our wishes, or you will get out of our house until you can'.
Delia looked from him to mam, waiting for her to argue, to tell her father he had gone too far this time, and that she wouldn't just let their daughter walk out of their lives that way... but she didn't. She looked to her husband, and she submitted.
Delia had felt sick, her heart thumping so hard now she might have been sprinting for miles as the silence stretched between the three of them. Then, without a word she'd picked up her school bag and left the room. She had managed to stay outwardly calm all the time she was collecting her coat and shoes, and left the house without so much as slamming the door. She had enough money in her purse to catch the bus to nain's house, and had done so, expecting all the time she was waiting for it to see mam coming running down the street towards her to fetch her home. But she hadn't.
Delia had arrived on her grandmother's doorstep, trembling so hard she had barely been able to knock. As soon as the door opened and she saw nain's kind (rather surprised) face she had broken down into tears and stood there weeping in the doorway.
Even when she was inside with a cup of strong, well sugared tea and a piece of nain's sticky ginger cake for the shock it had been a long time before she'd been able to get the words out. When at last the story was told, nain had hugged her fiercely.
Delia hugged her back, and in her arms was at last able to voice the feeling she had been most afraid of.
'I can't be a nurse anymore can I? Maybe if I promise not to... If I stay here in Pembrokeshire and work with dad in the draper's... maybe then they'll agree not to go to Canada after all. At least I wouldn't lose them completely. And you wouldn't be left here alone either...'
Just saying it made the tears start flowing again – she couldn't bear the thought of it.
At that nain sat back, her eyes sparking furiously, although when she replied it was clear the anger wasn't for Delia.
'Don't even think it Delia. Not for a moment. You live your own life cariad. Go to London, be a nurse. Find happiness wherever you can. Since your grandfather died I've realised life is too short to worry about other people's idea of propriety. I stayed with a man who made me miserable for 40 years because my family told me I had to. Now he's dead and I've never been happier, God forgive me for saying so. Your mother always was more her father's daughter than mine - stubborn as mules the pair of them. She'll come round eventually. Or else she won't. That's her business. But you are special and I won't have you throwing your life away the way I did. Not for your mam and not for me either. You'll stay here with me until your exams are finished and it's time for you to go off to London, and then you'll spread your wings the way you were always meant to. And if your mother or that husband of hers try to make trouble over it they shall answer to me. No more tears now'.
Right up until the day they left Delia had existed in a state of mingled hope and fear – simultaneously expecting her parents to announce that they were staying after all... and to come over to nain's house and drag Delia bodily from the house into a taxi. If anyone could find a way to force her to Canada against her will, it was them. Neither eventuality had happened however, and Delia's parents had left on the appointed day with hardly a word for their daughter.
So now she knew. THIS was the falling out that mam had blamed on her when Delia couldn't remember her own past. She had made her feel so guilty about it, and yet all Delia had done was try to have her own future. She hadn't betrayed them, or tried to hurt them. If anything it had been the other way round.
The memories burned in Delia as she lay in the dark beside Patsy every night. During the day she was able to distract herself from the emotions the new crowd of recollections brought with them, but at night tears flowed silently down her cheeks to soak into her pillow as wave after wave of feelings – anger, grief, loneliness, regret, confusion – swept over her. She knew that all she'd have to do would be to reach across and shake Patsy's shoulder to be instantly wrapped in strong, comforting arms, but she didn't do it. Then she would have to explain. And then Patsy would hate her too.
Because this wasn't normal, was it? What she felt now for Patsy wasn't what she was supposed to feel. It was wrong... But it didn't feel wrong. Actually if felt more completely right than anything had since she woke up in the hospital with no idea who she was. Mam had acted as though it was something so horrifying that even mentioning it out loud would be enough to stain a person's soul indelibly, but then mam hadn't approved of nursing either. Or nain for that matter. And besides Patsy, those were the two most wonderful things she had had in her life. She wouldn't believe that they were wicked just because mam said so. The only difference with Delia's interest in women rather than men was that the rest of the world agreed with her mother.
Delia's thoughts drifted back to a ten year old Rhys, kicking up his knees and whirling round and round so that the skirt he was wearing flew in a circle around him, then collapsing dizzily in a heap on her bed, breathless with laughter. She remembered Nancy Gordon, her best friend when she was fourteen, who Delia had shared everything with. They had spent every spare minute together, and Delia had loved her as earnestly and innocently as any other school girl with their first real crush, though she hadn't realised it at the time. They had held hands, and made each other friendship bracelets to seal their pact that they would never bother with dating any boys, but would only stay friends with each other instead. If they ever wanted to go to dances or things that normally involved a partner, they simply wouldn't have dates, because what boy could be better than your best friend?
None of it, not Rhys or Nancy or Delia herself, none of it had been hurting anyone. So why was it anyone else's business? A stubborn, brave part of Delia dared to point out that perhaps it was society that was wrong after all. Because could finding joy and loving something or someone ever really be so bad?
But then Delia's eyes found Patsy again and she winced internally. Of course it could be bad. If the other person didn't love you the same way; if the very idea of your feelings for them would be appalling and embarrassing to that person should they ever find out, then you should put those feelings aside and find someone who did like you that way.
Robert liked Delia. Maybe it really was for the best.