Checking her head gear in the mirror one more time, Delia picked up the bowl and yanked open the front door.
"RAAAAAAWWWRRRRRRR!"
The squeals of delighted children brought a huge grin to her face, despite this being the 14th group.
"What are you supposed to be?"
She pushed the broken wok up higher on her head so she could see past the curls of fabric over her eyes. "I'm the Flying Spaghetti Monster!" She surged forward, throwing lengths of fabric in the air. "Bow down before my noodly goodness!"
One little voice piped up above the giggles.
"You just made that up!"
"Err I'll have you know," Delia shoved a fist on her hip indignantly. "The Flying Spaghetti Monster is the figure head of a legally recognised religion, Pastafarianism!"
"I don't believe you!"
"And that is your right. Now," she shook the bowl. "Who wants sweets?"
Patsy felt heavy. She hated the lethargy that seemed to come hand-in-hand with her stronger and more painful memories. And sometimes the happy ones too.
She'd managed to fashion herself a nest out of blankets and pillows as she lay on her bed. She was overheating, but simply could not be arsed to do anything about it. Instead the redhead gazed vacantly forward, only half paying attention to The Repair Shop streaming through the iPlayer on her laptop, listening to the chatter coming from the kitchen.
A gentle tap on the door forced her to move just a little. "Yeah?" she called out, wincing at the creak in her voice. She'd been hiding away for most of the day.
The door opened just a crack and familiar and expected blue eyes peered in. There was only one person who usually visited when she was hiding.
"Hey Pats, may I come in?"
Patsy nodded and returned to her original position.
A quiet clatter over by her desk took her by surprise. She glanced at the foil-covered plate, and then up at Delia.
"I kept you back some Chinese in case you got hungry."
The redhead felt her brow creasing as she took in her friends appearance. She had a wok on her head, probably the one Chummy had broken the handle off last week, but it was painted blue and full of holes. It had ping-pong ball eyes on springs wobbling around on top of it. The welshwoman also had a brown bundle on each shoulder, and the rest of her outfit seemed to consist of curled strips of cream and yellow fabric. "What are you supposed to be?"
Delia shrugged. "Flying Spaghetti Monster." She removed the head piece, and shook out her hair. "I wanted to go as Cthulu but I couldn't afford to make the tentacles."
Well that answer clarified nothing. And it must have shown on Patsy's face.
The young woman sauntered over and tapped the space bar on her laptop, pausing the programme, and knelt down beside the bed. "Wanna talk?"
"Thought you were going to the union?" Patsy asked evenly.
"Trixie's still doing her make-up, think we've got a while." Delia folded her arms on the mattress and rested her chin on them. "What's going on sweetheart?"
Patsy closed her eyes and sighed. For years it has been so easy to avoid these conversations, to deflect or just keep to herself. And then Delia arrived in her life. And it was suddenly a lot harder to bottle it all up.
"I don't want to bore you with it."
Delia rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't have bothered coming up here if I wasn't willing to listen Pats." She placed a hand over the bemused redhead's arm, her thumb stroking goosebumps onto her skin. "I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you if I have to, but I am here for you. You've been alone long enough Patsy Mount."
Patsy buried her face in the pillow, knowing a red flush was spreading across her brow as her eyes stung with tears. "You're a right royal pain in the arse Delia Busby."
The welsh girl giggled. "You love me really."
The older woman's chest squeezed. Surely Delia couldn't know how she...
"So what is it about Halloween that's got you hiding?"
"It just reminds me of Grace," Patsy huffed.
The hand on her arm squeezed. "Tell me."
She glared at her young friend, then rolled her eyes. "Fine." Pushing herself into something closer to a sitting position allowed her to stall for a moment. "Shanghai doesn't really do Halloween, but we lived in an area populated by international business types. So thanks to the Americans, we had trick-or-treating. Grace loved to dress up, usually as some kind of animal, and we'd go around knocking on doors with father while mother manned our front door. The families took it in turn to host a big party every year, so after we'd filled our sweet bags we'd all go to another big house somewhere down the road with ridiculous decorations and posh food. Pompous show-offs, the lot of them. Everyone went all out. Us kids would all be sent home to Nanny by 9 o'clock, but we thought we were so grown up celebrating with the adults for a couple of hours. Getting Grace to settle afterwards was impossible, she'd be bouncing around our room like a ping-pong ball. Nanny would be lucky to get her face paint off her, but there was no way you could get Grace out of her costume, no matter how cumbersome. She'd eventually tire herself out and be deposited into bed fully dressed." Patsy allowed herself a chuckle. Delia's hand slid down to grasp her fingers, a small smile on her face. "I just always wondered if she'd still love it as much. What sort of things she'd dress up as now? What she'd have done at boarding school, we weren't allowed to celebrate it there, you know, Catholics and all that."
"I can't imagine how hard it must be always having those sorts of questions," Delia murmured. "Thank you for telling me Pats."
"You didn't really give me much choice," Patsy laughed mirthlessly, sweeping back her hair.
"You always have a choice," the brunette raised her eyebrows at her. "I might push you a little, but you can always say no."
Patsy felt one corner of her mouth lift in acknowledgement.
"May I make an observation?"
She drew a deep breath to steel herself for whatever wisdom Delia was about to impart. "Go on."
"Please don't think I'm being disrespectful to your memories. How you're feeling now is entirely understandable and it is valid." Delia paused, and Patsy saw the a nervous look flicker across her face. "But those were traditions you had as a child. It was a different time and a different place. Traditions are important, but sometimes you need to let them evolve. So maybe, when you're ready, you can start building your own traditions around Halloween? Maybe they can honour Grace's memory somehow, but I think you need to reclaim Halloween in your own way."
"I'm not coming out tonight!" Patsy snapped, feeling the start of a rolling boil in her chest.
"I'm not asking you to," Delia raised her hands in defence. "I'm not stupid enough to push you that hard, I know you a little better than that. I just want you to think about it. Maybe for next year? Or whenever you're ready."
The redhead set her teeth and stared at her lap. People were always trying to change her and she was sick of it.
Fortunately she didn't have the opportunity to let loose on Delia.
"Oi Spaghetti Hoops!" Val shouted up the stairs. "You coming or not?"
"Just a minute!" Delia called back.
Patsy watched out of the corner of her eye as the girl stood up.
"You don't have to think about it tonight Pats," she squeezed Patsy's shoulder, and it took a lot for her not to shrug it off. "Get some rest, the trick-or-treaters are all done and we probably won't be back 'til late."
And she left. She walked away and left Patsy alone with her racing thoughts and apparently bruised feelings. How dare she? So Patsy did what she did best, stomped it all down inside, threw herself back into her nest of blankets and pretended to watch her programme.
Two hours later, Delia was sat at the table, watching the mayhem that had taken over The Rat And Emu, nursing her 3rd glass of...well something neon orange and sickly sweet. She'd tried to pluck her spirits up and join in, she really had. But her heart just wasn't in it. Maybe she really had pushed Patsy too far. Maybe she should learn to keep her mouth shut. She'd seen the anger building in her friend's eyes, but she'd kept going, so certain she knew what was best for the redhead.
The screech of a stool being dragged drew her surroundings back into focus.
"I say old thing," Chummy mumbled from behind a Charlie Chaplin moustache. "You're looking rather down in the mouth."
"Sorry Chummy," Delia tried to smile. "Just something on my mind."
"Something?" Trixie questioned, leaning over Delia's shoulder to retrieve her drink, stabbing her in the back with her Madonna cones in the process. "Or someone?"
The brunette sighed. Of course everyone knew it was Patsy occupying her thoughts. "I think I've really upset her this time."
Across the table Valerie, clad in an orange prison uniform, snorted into her glass. "The woman is permanently upset about something, I don't know how you can tell the difference." She yelped as Lucille punched her shoulder. "Seriously! Will you stop doing that!"
"I'm practicing aversion therapy on you." Lucille settled into a seat, her Khaleesi dress floating up around her, while a papier mache dragon wobbled precariously on her shoulder. "I'll stop hitting you when you stop being a prick."
"You're not even gay!" Val protested. "If this was a come-on it might be cute but it's not!"
Lucille frowned as she sipped her drink. "I'm very concerned about the type of women you date!"
Chummy placed her bowler hat on the table. "What's happened Delia?"
"I think I just went too far, made suggestions she wasn't ready for." She swirled her drink, only just realising it had rather a lot of glitter in it. She put down the glass and pushed it away. "I knew she was getting pissed off but like a coward I just ran away. I should've stayed and let her shout at me, helped her work through it." The brunette dropped her head into her hands, the wok slipping forward and thudding onto the table. She undid the strap holding the stupid thing on her head and dropped the whole thing on the floor.
Trixie rubbed a hand across her back. "You're not a coward sweetie. No-one wants to be shouted at by the person the love."
Delia turned to Trixie so fast she felt her neck click. All she could do was stare at the blonde, wide-eyed.
"Yes sweetie, we all know you're in love with Patsy. Well, except maybe Barbara." Trixie nodded to their friend who was dressed as a grape, covered in balloons. She was playing Twister.
The welshwoman dropped her head to the table and groaned.
"Oh Delia, don't be like that!" Lucille squeezed her shoulder. "We all think it's sweet."
Another snort and a punch from the other side of the table confirmed Delia's suspicions that not everyone thought it was sweet.
"No, it's pathetic." Delia sat up and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "She is way out of my league."
"I hardly think so old bean," giggled Chummy. "I think you make quite a sweet couple actually."
Delia glared at the taller woman. "Don't call us a couple, I can't afford to get my hopes," she huffed. Oh god, this was all she needed. All if their mutual friends knowing her big secret. Now she'd always be aware of them, watching her, analysing every move she made around Patsy.
A squeak from Trixie pulled her back to the Union bar.
"Val, Lucille, would you be darlings and go to the bar please?"
"Err, we've only just got a round in?" Val held up her almost full glass.
"Yes but I want to make sure we Don't Run Out!"
Why was Trixie talking through her teeth? She seemed to have developed a nervous twitch as well, her head jerking to the side spasmodically. Delia's brow furrowed in confusion. "Trix are you all right?"
"Absolutely fine sweetie, now go on you two, spit spot!" The blonde flicked her hand at the bemused pair until they gave in and wandered off. "Come on Chummy, you wanted me to touch up your make up didn't you."
The taller woman found herself dragged to her feet. "But I'm not wearing any..."
"Exactly, so move it."
Delia watched on, thoroughly confused. "I'll just guard the table then shall I?"
"You do that sweetie!" Trixie called over her shoulder, hauling poor Chummy into the crowd.
The welsh girl flopped back in her seat, a little miffed truth be told. She didn't mind guarding the table but for Trixie to just expect it of her. She shook her head, taking in the mass of inebriated students around.
The disco lights flashed off something metallic in the crowd. Something that looked...like a colander. It was upside down. And it was on someone's head. She let her eyes drift down, past strands of what looked like pasta, to the sheepish face of one Patsy Mount. She knew she was staring incredulously, but she just couldn't help it! Patience Mount was standing in the middle of the Rat and Emu bar wearing a pasta colander on her head.
The small fish hook smile the redhead flashed her snapped her out of her daze in time for Patsy to reach the table.
Delia looked her up and down. Besides the daft headgear Patsy was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and black trousers, a sign around her neck reading "Do you have a moment to talk about His Noodly Goodness, The Flying Spaghetti Monster?"
The brunette couldn't hold back the laugh any longer. "Patsy, have you come as a Pastafarian?"
Patsy inclined her head in confirmation.
"Oh my god," Delia giggled. Then a thought hit her. "Oh my god no! You're not a Pastafarian! You're a Patsyfarian!"
A grin split across the redhead's face as her giggles joined Delia's. "Crossed with a Mormon I think. There wasn't much information about what they wear apart from the colander."
"I absolutely love it." Delia reached out to feel the strands hanging from the colander and gasped. "No way! That's actual tagliatelle! I never thought I'd see the day you waste food!"
Pstsy shrugged. "Its justifiable when it's all yellow label at Tesco."
The welsh girl continued to stare at her friend in wonder. She knew she shouldn't, who knew what could be read from her facial expression right now but she was genuinely stunned by this turn of events. "I just can't believe you're actually here. Pats I'm so proud of you."
Patsy shook her head, looking nervous. "I'm probably not going to stay long, it's all a bit much in here. But you were right, it's time to start evolving traditions. And I'm sorry I got so angry at you."
"No, I'm sorry." Delia grabbed the redhead's hand. "I shouldn't have gone that far, or I should have at least stayed and let be angry at me."
"No Delia, honestly it's..."
A series of loud pops and a squeal drew the two girls attention to the Twister matt, where Barbara lay sprawled on her front between 3 people, several balloons the apparent casualty of the game collapsing.
Spirits starting to lift, Delia stood and grabbed Patsy's hand. "Come on, lets have some fun."
Patsy found herself ensconced in one of the deep sofas towards the back of the bar, watching her friends do the Cha Cha Slide. She was surprised that she'd actually enjoyed herself. They'd all played daft party games for a while, though she'd gotten a little flustered when she found in herself in a precarious position with Delia beneath her on the Twister matt. She was astounded by how flexible and how strong the girl was. Trixie had kept her occupied on the dance floor for a while after that, until the costume competition began. Someone, she wasn't sure who but she had her suspicions, had entered her and Delia into the couple's category. They'd won third place. She wasn't allowing herself to analyse that.
But now she found herself sitting with a not particularly pleasant green drink in hand, and that weight was edging back in. It might have been the alcohol, she'd necked a couple of shots of whiskey for Dutch courage before leaving the house, and she seemed to have had a lurid coloured cocktail of some description or another pressed into her hand since arriving. Or it could just be that she was tired. It was nearly 1am, later than she'd intended to stay out. It was also about the time Grace used to finally run out of steam and collapse into bed.
Suddenly the glass was being removed from her hand. She glanced up to see Delia set it aside, a lightly drunken grin on her face.
"Delia?"
"Get your coat Pats, you've pulled."
The blood drained from Patsy's face as she tried to find a coherent response. "Err Delia...I really don't think...
Delia rolled her eyes, and grabbed her hand. "I'm joking, come on I want my bed!"
The redhead allowed herself to be pulled to standing, she didn't think she had the strength left in her legs to do it herself anyway, her heart was thundering away like a freight train!
Together they stumbled through the crowd, eventually making it out the door. Delia swayed a little as the fresh air hit her.
"Steady on there young'un," Patsy giggled.
The welsh girl glared playfully up at her as she plopped the wok back on her head. "I am not drunk. Just tipsy."
"Of course you are," the redhead smirked.
Delia simply grabbed Patsy's hand and wrapped the taller woman's arm around her shoulder, before striding away, pull in her friend with her.
Patsy knew she shouldn't read too much into any of this, or notice how well Delia fit against her side, the brunette's arm slipping around her waist once they were a couple of streets away from the Union bar. But right now she didn't have the energy to fight it, so she allowed herself to indulge, just for a little while.
They didn't talk on the way back, except for Patsy instructing Delia to hold her breath when she started hiccuping. But the quiet between them was comfortable. And for that she was exceptionally grateful.
It didn't take them long to walk home, and when they reached the landing Patsy finally plucked up the courage to break the silence.
"Delia? Were you actually that desperate for your bed?"
The smaller woman turned to her. She did look tired, Patsy noted, her eyelids were heavy and she was pressing her teeth together as she often did when she was fighting exhaustion.
"Yes Patsy, I'm knackered." She surprised the redhead by stepping forward and wrapping her up in a hug. "But you didn't look like you were having fun anymore either, so two birds one stone," she mumbled against Patsy's chest.
The taller woman gently hugged the girl back, pressing her cheek to the top of her head. "In that case thank you. For everything."
Delia squeezed her tight for just a few seconds, but Patsy wanted them to last for a lot longer. Instead, she stepped out of the embrace and turned her friend around, steering her towards the door adorned with a huge Welsh flag.
"Go on. To bed with you."
The girl giggled as she stood in her doorway, smiling lazily. "Sweet dreams Patsy."
"Good night Delia," Patsy smiled back as she turned towards her own room.
"Patsy?"
The redhead looked back as she reached her door.
"I'm so proud of you for coming out tonight."
Patsy didn't know what else to do except nod an acknowledgement, opened her door and slipped inside.
Flopping down onto her blanket nest Patsy couldn't help thinking the future was going to be full of a whole heap of other challenges she hadn't imagined facing when she applied to study nursing. But just maybe Delia Busby was worth a little bit of bravery.