Chapter 3: And when I'm away from you I love how you miss me
Summary – Patsy has just gotten off the slow-boat from China... but why didn't she write...?
Note – This chapter is rated M as it includes an intimate love scene.
Brighton, Saturday the 4th of May 2014, 11:00am
Still with her hand resting on Delia's shoulder, Patsy leaned down again and placed a soft kiss on the top of her love's head. "You look lovely Deels," she whispered, but I may have smudged your make-up slightly" she lifted her other hand and used her thumb to gently wipe away a small smear of lipstick, "sorry…"
Bringing her hand up to rest over Patsy's, Delia smiled softly "Never apologise for smudging my lipstick Cariad," she ran her fingers over Patsy's knuckles and added, "there's still plenty of time for me to re-apply."
Patsy gently squeezed Delia's hand, "did you remember to bring the record for our 'First Dance'?"
"Pats - no one does vinyl nowadays. Well, apart from the hipsters that is. And us." Delia chuckled, "It's all MP3s and streaming now. I downloaded the songs and emailed them to the DJ
chap last week."
Patsy rolled her eyes exaggeratedly "that whole sentence made absolutely no sense to me at all - and I remain unapologetically analogue!"
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't have you any other way!" Delia grinned, and recalled one of Patsy's finer 'analogue' moments…
—
Nonnatus House, Poplar, November 1962, 5:30am
Delia shifted, stretching slightly under the covers and blankets of her bed, and revelled in the deliciously cozy, cocoon-like space she found herself in.
Britain was in the grips of what felt like a new ice-age, and the streets of Poplar were buried under thick drifts of snow several feet deep. All the residents of Nonnatus had been issued with extra woollen blankets to stave-off the cold and Delia snuggled down deeper into hers - and moved closer against the warm body that shared them with her.
As she moved under the covers, she took a moment to savour the extra weight of the blankets and the roughness of the material against her bare skin - an unfamiliar and surprisingly pleasant sensation - and then cracked open her eyes.
Her heart fluttered as she found herself a mere breath away from a smooth, alabaster-skinned back, the tip of her nose just touching the soft skin between two defined shoulder blades, her darkchocolate locks interwoven with bright copper strewn on the pillows. She breathed in deeply and sighed, smiling contentedly at the comforting scent filling her nostrils: warm, sweet vanilla and coffee.
With an undertone of tobacco and cleaning products.
Patsy.
She'd dreamt of this moment almost constantly throughout the long, lonely months they'd been apart.
Breathing in again, she detected a faint hint of something else lingering on her love's skin and under the covers. A hint of something warm and salty. Something alluding to hot tears and hotter bodies moving urgently against one another. Of skin on skin.
The memory of their lovemaking sent a renewed flush of hot desire coiling suddenly and tightly, deep inside her core. She felt the involuntary heat reach her cheeks, and she slid her arm up over Patsy's hips and around her waist, hugging her closer still, until their bodies were almost as one again. Connected.
Patsy hardly stirred.
She must be utterly exhausted, Delia thought then. The tortuous three-week boat trip, followed by yesterday's emotional reunion - and then spending the night together…
Delia flushed again.
It had not been her intention to fall immediately into bed with Patsy…
—
The maelstrom of emotions that had whirled inside her over these last few lonely weeks had magnified ten-fold upon their unexpected on-street meeting, and the sudden fire that flared inside her had taken Delia entirely by surprise.
The emotions that shocked and worried her the most were the sudden flashes of anger she'd felt.
Why hadn't Patsy telephoned, or at the very least responded to Delia's letters?
Why hadn't she fought to keep the threads from breaking...?
….And then last night Patsy had turned it all upside down again - had grabbed her firmly by the collar - pulling her in, and they'd kissed, fast and firm, right there in the street. The urgency of that kiss and the deep, desperate need behind it had almost overwhelmed Delia. She'd never felt that kind of intensity from Patsy before.
Then, as they'd walked through the square, past the merry-go-round towards the doors of Nonnatus, there was the onslaught of welcoming hugs and greetings.
The excitement of the wanderer returned. But for Delia, all she'd wanted right then was to get Patsy inside, away from all the others.
She'd wanted to be the first to welcome her home.
Eventually, they did finally make it through those heavy wooden doors, shutting out and muting the hubbub from the street.
Just the two of them.
They stood for a moment in the calm silence of the empty hallway, backs resting against the solid wood, listening to the clamour of their own heartbeats.
Delia glanced sideways, "I could run you a bath… If you'd like?" she'd whispered hesitantly.
Patsy's eyes met hers, "I'd like that. Very much." came the soft reply.
A short while later, with a soft nock on Delia's door, Patsy had hesitantly entered, robe-clad and scrubbed clean of travel grime, her head wrapped in a towel.
Delia, propped up on her bed, book in hand, looked up and smiled softly, "I can't quite believe you're really here…" She leaned over and placed the book on her bedside table, her smile fading. She really wanted to say how worried she'd been at the lack of contact - how she thought she was losing the love of her life - how she'd started to slowly unravel…
But that would have sounded so churlish and selfish in the face of all that Patsy had just been through. Instead she chewed her lower lip, dropped her eyes to her lap and asked quietly, "Will you be sharing with Phyllis tonight? Barbara's is the only bed available now."
Silence.
Then a soft sniff.
She looked up then to see tears brimming over Patsy's eyelashes and tumbling down her cheeks. Suddenly remorseful at her unspoken thoughts, Delia sprang up off the bed and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's waist, gripping her in a tight hug "Oh Pats, I'm sorry!"
Patsy put her arms around Delia's shoulders and held on tight , "Please Deels," she whispered, "it is I who should apologise… I know that this has hurt you - it has hurt both of us." Pulling out of the hug slightly, she caught Delia's ocean-blue gaze and held it, "I can't bear the thought of spending another night away from you - not when you're right here, under the very same roof…." then leaning closer again she added, "I want, I …need to sleep here tonight."
Delia's heart was pounding in her chest. The nearness of Patsy was intoxicating. "But won't everyone wonder where you've gotten to - where we've both gotten to?" she heard herself whisper, taking the unfamiliar stance of caution.
"They're all out having so much fun, I doubt anyone will even notice. And anyway - I don't care what they might think!" Patsy's voice was hoarse with emotion, "God, I've missed you so much Delia! I really need to be with you tonight..."
At that, the last of Delia's rapidly eroding resolve finally crumbled, all her pent-up longing burst free and she stood up on her toes, closing the tiny gap separating their faces, and took Patsy's lips in a long, lingering kiss.
Those lips were so soft. Lord, how she'd missed them!
She felt Patsy's body push against her, warm and solid and very real, felt hands on the back of her head, felt the kiss deepening. She pushed her whole body into Patsy's, bumping the taller woman firmly back into the door which rattled softly. Somehow, she managed to regain a split-second of clarity and had the presence of mind to turn the key in the lock with a secure 'click'. Then the powerful need to make their physical connection took over.
Clothes were quickly discarded and thrown to the floor. Patsy made quick work of freeing Delia's hair from its elaborate bun, before lifting a thick, glossy handful to her face and inhaling deeply. Then Delia found herself wrapped tightly in Patsy's arms and they toppled onto the bed.
What followed was intense and urgent and an almost complete sensory overload for Delia.
Pushed back into the covers she closed her eyes and felt Patsy's weight bearing down on her. She almost couldn't get enough air into her lungs, but she craved every inch of skin-to-skin contact, so she wrapped her arms around her and pulled Patsy closer still. She felt warm lips and hot breath feathering down over her neck… over her shoulder… soft, warm breasts pressing against her own. Exploring lips and long, dextrous fingers deftly teasing her skin, sending shivers of intense pleasure flurrying through her chest and abdomen, and a hot deliciously tingling heat spreading rapidly in her pelvis.
The sweet, earthy scent of her lover's skin was filling her nostrils when she felt Patsy's knee pushing gently between hers, separating her legs. She parted her them further and allowed Patsy's thigh to contact firmly on her groin - right on the spot where she needed it most.
The tingling, hot coil of pleasure inside her tightened instantly. God, it felt so good!
As Patsy began to slowly move against her, she very nearly came undone right then. But that wouldn't do - she needed to wait for Patsy to get there too - so she shifted her own thigh slightly and wedged it tightly between her lover's legs.
Both women inhaled sharply, opening their eyes and holding the other's gaze.
Patsy was slick with desire. They both were. Then they began moving against one another… pelvises rocking together… slowly at first.
Delia gripped Patsy around the shoulders with one hand, the other found her hair, fingers tangling in still-damp copper tresses. With her lips feathering her lover's ear she whispered urgently, "Mmmm… oh... Pats - harder please!"
Patsy obliged increasing pressure and tempo and Delia felt herself tingle and tighten to the point where she could bear it no longer. She drew in a deep breath and held it, eyes tightly shut, and then allowed the exquisite release to surge through her, all the way from her toes and up through her whole body, ending finally in an intense explosion of pleasure in her brain. Eyes flicking open, fingers gripping Patsy tightly, her climax left her body in a soft hiss through clenched teeth against Patsy's shoulder.
Even as her own climax subsided, Patsy reached hers.
Feeling her lover's rapid breaths becoming erratic against her skin, Delia quickly shifted her hands down into the small of Patsy's back. She applied pressure there and at the same time lifted her thigh and hips a little more to maximise the contact for Patsy. Almost immediately Patsy came with a shuddering low moan muffled into the pillows.
Delia held her tightly as the ripples of pleasures slowly subsided.
She felt warm, soft lips and hot breath against her neck as Patsy regained her senses and whispered, "I love you Delia."
At those simple heart-felt words, Delia felt such a wave of emotion surge through her that she couldn't stop the hot salty tears from springing up suddenly and trickling down her face.
Continuing her soft whisperings and kissing her face, Patsy must have tasted them because she paused and pulled back a fraction whispering, "Oh Deels… what's wrong? Gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…"
She was cut off however, as Delia smiled and began laughing softly through her tears. "Nothing is wrong cariad," she sighed, pulling Patsy down and holding her again, "everything is right," she murmured and placed a soft kiss into Patsy's hair.
They lay contentedly in a tangle of limbs for a while until the cold November air began to chill their skin, forcing them to seek the refuge of the bed covers. Snuggling down together, they held each other as they drifted off into a warm, blissful sleep.
—
Delia finally and very reluctantly managed to drag herself out of bed by 6:15am and make her way down to breakfast.
Patsy had not stirred, her soft steady breathing uninterrupted as Delia had slipped out from under the covers to get ready for her day shift. She fretted slightly about leaving Patsy here in her room, but there was nothing else for it. The risk of her being seen leaving now was far too high, what with all the morning hustle and bustle in Nonnatus. Best to just leave her be.
The breakfast table was surprisingly vibrant given that the wedding celebrations had lasted long into the previous evening. All her colleagues looked relatively bright and ready for the busy day ahead as Delia pulled up a chair. She hoped her bleary-eyed and slightly ruffled demeanour wouldn't give her away as she reached across the table for the coffee pot.
As if reading her mind, Valerie piped up cheerily, "Morning Delia - where's Patsy? I only spoke to her very briefly last night and it'll be nice to meet her properly today."
Delia swallowed thickly around a suddenly very dry mouthful of toast, "Oh um… she's err… ah, she's…" She stammered and faltered. Her brain refused to get out of neutral and the heat of a deep blush rushed to her cheeks.
Oh God…
Just then she felt a foot gently bumping hers under the table.
Looking up, she saw Phyllis gazing at her steadily, before clearing her throat and briskly informing the table:
"Nurse Mount is getting some well earned shut-eye. She took Barbara's bed last night and I've left her there to rest until she meets with Sister Julienne later today to discuss the resumption of her duties. There will be ample time for us all to catch up with her over dinner this evening."
Phyllis glanced briefly back to Delia - a soft glint of sympathy in her eyes - before carrying on with her breakfast.
—
Breakfast over and the day began in earnest - the midwives all grabbing their equipment bags and heading out on their rounds. Delia herself was about head off to the maternity hospital, cape fastened and straightening her hat, when Phyllis stopped her in the hallway. "Ah, Nurse Busby - a word please."
Delia's heart clenched in apprehension as she turned to face the formidable senior midwife.
Phyllis smiled gently then pursed her lips as she considered how best to put what she needed to say. "Delia… kid…" she began hesitantly. "I know the last few months have been hard on you. On both of you." Then she raised her eyebrows, gazing pointedly at Delia and added, "but you two really must be careful…"
Delia, blushing yet again this morning with what must have been the deepest shade of crimson so far could only stammer, "Phyllis – I mean Nurse Crane – I know… I'm so sorry…"
Phyllis held up a sliencing finger and continued, "…which is going to be difficult given the current accommodation situation. That is why I'm going to suggest to Sister Julienne today that you and I swap rooms."
Delia, barely able to believe what she'd just heard, simply stared at the kindly senior midwife.
Phyllis cleared her throat, "Yes. Well. I think that will be a much better solution for all concerned," then added with another pointed look, "but you must still be careful." And with that she turned on her heel and bustled off back down the hallway.
Delia let out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and gathered herself in an attempt to process what had just happened. She checked her watch. Realised she'd be late if she didn't get a move-on and barrelled out through the heavy front doors almost knocking over the postman in the process.
"Oi - careful!" he shouted, side-stepping just in time.
"Oops - sorry!" Delia cried over her shoulder before hurrying off to begin her shift.
—
Her day on the wards had mercifully flown by and she was pleased changeover time came round so quickly.
She couldn't wait to get back and tell Patsy about their new sleeping arrangements and finally have the privacy for the two of them to really talk about what happened in Hong Kong. She skipped up the front steps of Nonnatus and pushed through the front doors, pulling off her hat and loosening her cape as she went. She only made it as far as the second stair heading up to the landing however, when she heard Trixie's voice calling her name from the kitchen.
"Delia? Is that you sweetie - do you have a moment?"
Delia turned to see the normally bubbly blonde midwife looking rather serious in the kitchen doorway. "Of course - what's up?" she replied, making her way quickly to the kitchen. She could sense immediately that something wasn't quite right. Trixie's stance was tense and she gripped a battered package in her hands - which had clearly been opened.
"Trixie… what's that…?" Delia's eyes were riveted to the parcel and a sudden sense of dread appeared out of nowhere worming its way into the pit of her stomach.
The blonde midwife lowered her eyes to the torn brown-paper parcel in her hands. It was thin and flat and about seven inches square, and Delia could see part of a worn and torn airmail stamp in one corner…
Trixie looked up sheepishly, "I wanted to speak to you alone before the others arrived. I'm terribly sorry Delia, this arrived in the morning post… and I opened it thinking it was for me… but it's actually for you… and it's from Patsy… it must have gotten lost in the post because the name and most of the address is missing…."
Delia was frozen to the spot, a cold sweat forming under the collar of her uniform. Oh God, she knew. Trixie knew.
Barely stopping for breath Trixie babbled on, "….I only assumed it was for me because I'm in the Elvis fan club and they occasionally send special editions of his records… and it is the right shape for a record after all… actually it is a record - just not Elvis – and so then I read the note that came with it… and I'd read most of it before I realised what it really was… and then…" she faltered and added softly, "…well, then I read all of it."
Trixie gazed steadily at Delia then, "I'm so very sorry." She said it quietly and sincerely.
Heart pounding thunderously, and unable to speak, Delia simply held out a shaking hand and Trixie stepped meekly forwards, placing the tattered parcel into her open palm.
Then the blonde midwife rubbed Delia's arm gently and smiled softly. "For what it's worth… she loves you very, very much, and that's worth more than anything else in the world actually. I envy you."
Then she added quietly, "I can only imagine how very hard it must be for you both to have to hide such a love, but I want you to know that you don't have to hide it from me."
Delia still hadn't regained the power of speech and stood dumb-struck, heart still hammering crazily in her chest and clinging to the package as though it were the only life-raft in a stormlashed ocean.
"Delia? Sweetie - can you forgive me …?" Trixie's worried voice bringing her back to the moment.
Delia simply nodded.
Trixie let out a sigh of relief, "…would you like to borrow my dancette? To listen to the record?"
Delia blinked and nodded again, this time with the ghost of a smile tugging ever so slightly at one corner of her mouth.
Trixie smiled hesitantly then, "OK - I'll go and get it for you…"
As Trixie was disappearing out into the hall, Delia finally found her voice, "Trixie?" she whispered hoarsely, "Where's Patsy?"
Trixie stopped and turned in the doorway, "She's still in Sister Julienne's office."
"Does she know?" Delia asked quietly.
Trixie sighed, "No, I haven't seen her yet to tell her," then added ruefully, "to apologise…"
Finally, Delia smiled too, "It's OK, I'll tell her if you like?"
"Would you?" Trixie breathed another sigh of relief.
Delia grinned then - Trixie's heart was always in the right place, "Yes, and I'm pretty sure she'll still want to be your friend." Then she added, "Look, why don't you pop up to my room after dinner and you can catch up with her properly? You're her best friend after all and she'll be dying to see you."
Trixie nodded enthusiastically and beamed her brightest smile, "Yes, I'd love that! Thank you Delia," before turning and making her way out into the hallway.
Delia shook her head briefly and watched her retreating figure, then without thinking called after her, "Trixie? The Elvis fan club? Really?"
"We all have our secrets, sweetie!" came the retort from the hall.
—
A short while later, Delia stood alone in her room.
She crossed to her dressing table where Trixie's dancette now sat, alongside the package from Patsy. Lifting the small brown-paper-wrapped item, she turned it over in her hands, noting the scuffs and rips in the wrapping. Pretty much all of the address was indeed obliterated. It looked as though it had been shunted from pillar to post for weeks on end. Clearly it had, since Patsy had managed to arrive home before it. How it had found its way here at all was nothing short of miraculous. She resolved to thank the poor postman next time she saw him…
She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, half expecting it to have retained some essence of Patsy.
It didn't – there was only the slightly musty smell of brown paper.
Then, with shaking hands, she slid two fingers inside the fragile wrapping and carefully removed the contents.
There were two pieces of stiff cardboard forming a sandwich around a seven-inch record and a hand-written note. There was no doubt in Delia's mind that Patsy's foresight and care in protecting the fragile items had been the only reason they had reach their intended recipient in one piece.
She examined the record, turning it in her hands, being careful not to touch the playing surface. It was in surprisingly good condition considering its globe-trotting journey, only missing it's sleeve… and its centre-hole had been punched out…
That meant only one thing: it had once belonged in a juke box… and it would be unplayable… unless… She quickly glanced over to the dancette and was relieved to see the little circular adapter, which was meant exactly for ex-juke box records, nestling snuggly in its little holder beside the turntable.
Turning her attention back to the record, she squinted slightly and read small print on the A-side label: 'It might as well rain until September' Carole King.
She was intrigued. Patsy wasn't one for buying records and she wondered what had prompted her to send it.
So, she turned her attention to the letter accompanying it.
It was on a pale blue, superior quality, laid paper. She lifted it to her nose, and her heart leapt at the familiar scent - it was the perfume she'd given Patsy the day she'd left…
She looked at the letter again, her eyes following Patsy's elegant, looping cursive, not really reading the words just yet. Until she reached the date. August the 20th…
Tears welled in her eyes then. Patsy had written to her… if only it hadn't gotten lost…
Oh, Patsy…
She sniffed, wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand and began to read…
—
20th of August, 1962.
My darling Delia,
I hope you are well and that you are thriving on the maternity wards. You really are a natural and you're going to be the most wonderful midwife.
I can't tell you how many times I have sat down with the intention of writing to you. I have truly lost count!
Please forgive me, but each time I tried, the very act of having to write to you made the realisation that you are so far away almost too much to bear.
Each time I tried, the paper would remain resolutely blank – or worse – damp with tear stains.
The atmosphere at the house has not helped either. My father continues to deteriorate as each day passes and watching that happen – knowing there is nothing I can do to stop it – is so very difficult.
Oh Deels, I miss you so much and long to have you with me – you make even the very darkest moments so much brighter!
I'm so sorry, I don't mean to sound so grim. This won't make happy reading for you at all - and the last thing I want is to make you sad.
So, on a slightly happier note:
A few weeks ago, I found a lovely little cafe only a few streets away. I needed to get out of the house one day and I just sort of stumbled across it really. It reminds me so much of the Silver Buckle - and it has a juke box - which reminds me of you!
I hope you'll be glad to hear that it has become something of a sanctuary for me, and I go there twice, sometimes three times a week, or just whenever I need a break. It really is like a little slice of home. So much so, that I find myself frequently looking towards the door, half expecting you to walk in to meet me…
I'm sitting there now as I write this letter, drinking coffee and listening to the juke box…
There is, or rather, I should say was (and I'll explain further in a moment) a particular record in the juke box. The first time someone played it, the opening line made me stop in my tracks. I was trying again (unsuccessfully) to write to you, and those first few words of the song… well, it was as though my thoughts were being sung out loud! You'll understand when you listen to the record yourself…
So, every time since then, I have been sure to have enough coins with me so that I can play that particular record, and I have played it every single time I've visited.
You'll probably think I'm such a sap when you read this Deels, but that song really has helped me to finally be able to write to you.
The owner of the cafe certainly thinks I'm a sap. Today when he brought me my usual coffee, he presented me with the record - straight out of the juke box - can you believe it?!
He said I must have paid for it twenty times over with the amount of money I've fed into the machine (he's right - and then some!), and that the least he could do was give me what I'd paid for.
Either that, or he's just sick to the back teeth of hearing it… he must dread seeing me walk in…
Anyway - then he suggested that I should send it to my sweetheart, which nearly made me choke on my coffee.
Am I so obvious?
It seems so… the sad, love-sick lady, sitting in the corner, listening to the same song over and over, pining for her love… I must cut such a pathetic figure!
Oh Deels, I love you and miss you so much!
Only know this: I will be coming home to you just as soon as I can. Until then, please accept the enclosed gift as a reminder that I think of you very single day.
To echo the words of the song: 'I'm only living for the day I'm home to stay'.
Yours. Always.
Patsy x
—
As she finished the letter, fresh tears tracked down Delia's cheeks. The thought of Patsy, on the other side of the world, perhaps waiting for a response and not getting one!
She suddenly felt a deep pang of remorse. Her hurt and anger at Patsy's apparent lack of communication had been quite unfair.
She went to the dressing table and lifted the well-travelled piece of vinyl. Turning it in her hands, she blew some specs of dust from the playing surface before setting it on the turntable. Using the little juke box adapter she fixed the record securely in place, switched the turntable on and gently placed the stylus into the groove.
The dancette hissed and crackled as the needle moved along the lead-in groove towards the beginning of the track.
Delia picked up Patsy's letter again and clutched it to her chest as she moved back to the centre of the room to listen to the song
As the stylus finally hit the track, an almost hesitant and slightly fragile female vocal floated from the tinny speakers of Trixie's dancette:
"What shall I write?"
"What can I say?"
"How can I tell you how much I miss you?"
Delia sniffed and clutched the letter tighter still as the song picked up it's rhythm.
"The weather here has been as nice as it can be
Although it doesn't really matter much to me
For all the fun I'll have while you're so far away
It might as well rain until September"
Delia closed her eyes then and swayed gently along with the tune, imagining Patsy halfway across the world in that little cafe, drinking coffee and smoking, and listening to this very same record.
"I don't need sunny skies for things I like to do
'Cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you
As far as I'm concerned each day's a rainy day
So It might as well rain until September"
Delia sniffed again and then smiled softly. This was so typically Patsy… constantly turning her emotions on their head…
"It doesn't matter whether skies are grey or blue
It's raining in my heart 'cause I can't be with you
I'm only living for the day you're home to stay
So It might as well rain until September…"
As the song was reaching it's conclusion there was a quick rap at the door, and suddenly Patsy appeared, face alight with excitement.
"Deels! I've just been given the best news - we're to have Phyllis'…. room…," she faltered at the tableau before her.
Delia, eyes half-closed, swaying to the music, clutching a now quite crumpled letter tightly to her chest.
Patsy frowned, "Is that the letter I sent? …you're reading it again... now? ….have you been crying?… what's wrong?!"
Delia flew across the room and threw herself against the now thoroughly baffled Patsy. "No, everything is just right Pats – you did write!" Delia exclaimed, hugging the taller woman tightly around the waist.
Patsy hesitantly wrapped her arms around Delia and replied carefully, "well, yes of course I did – quite some time go…"
Delia pulled out of the hug slightly and held Patsy's concerned gaze. "Pats, this is the first time I've read it… and the other thing is - I'm not the first person to have read it."
Patsy looked even more bewildered, "Deels, you're really not making any sense…"
Delia grabbed the torn airmail wrapper with the illegible address and waved it in front of Patsy's face. "Look - it's been lost in the post! It only arrived this morning just after I left for my shift…"
Patsy took the worn wrapping paper and examined it. She glanced back to Delia, noting the now drying tear-tracks on her cheeks and then pulled her back into a hug. "Oh gosh – so… you thought I hand't written at all… oh, I'm so sorry Deels!"
"When I hadn't heard from you for so long, I thought maybe I'd lost you. I thought you might not come back…" Delia murmured softly into Patsy's chest, "but that was wrong of me and I'm sorry for thinking it."
Patsy smiled lopsidedly and placed a soft kiss on the top of Delia's head. "Oh Delia darling, I was always coming home to you… and you know, this is no one's fault – it was just circumstances really – so we should probably stop apologising," she whispered into Delia's hair adding, "Deal?"
Delia lifted her head and smiled softly up at Patsy. "Deal!" she agreed.
Patsy frowned, suddenly remembering something, "Wait, Deels - what did you mean when you said you weren't the first person to have read it?"
Delia pursed her lips, "Ah… well… Trixie read it."
Patsy's eyes widened and a deep blush flushed into her cheeks, "What!?… oh God - how?"
"She genuinely thought it was for her" Delia explained, "it's OK Pats, she apologised profusely and I'm certain she won't breathe a word of it unless we want her to."
Patsy relaxed slightly, "so… is she… OK… about us…?"
Delia chuckled "I'd say she's perfectly OK about us - you know Trix - she's a sucker for a romance!" then she added, "I asked her to pop in to my room after dinner so that you two could catch up properly in private - she wants to apologise to you too."
Patsy grimaced almost comically "Delia! What are you doing to me? She'll want all the juicy details and I'll die of embarrassment!"
Delia laughed, "No you won't! She's your best friend" then added cheekily, "If you can't talk to your best friend about your sweetheart, who can you talk to?"
Then she rubbed her chin exaggeratedly, "Hmmm, I do see what you mean though… I may have to disappear and join Sister Monica Joan in her after-dinner-cake-hunt. Can't have us both dying of embarrassment, can we?"
Patsy narrowed her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. Before she had time to respond however, Delia decided to get it over with and drop the other bombshell:
"Oh and by the way Pats, the main reason we're moving to Phyllis and Barbara's room is that Phyllis also knows about us – and yes, that's all OK too."
Patsy's eyebrow's shot up almost into her hairline. "Good Lord Delia! Is there anything else you need to get off your chest - shall I sit down…?" Then she rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, "I don't know - I go off for a bit and all of a sudden you've outed us to half of Nonnatus - I can't leave you alone, can I?"
Delia grinned and slapped Patsy lightly on the arm "I don't want you to leave me alone - ever again!"
"Oh trust me, I don't plan to!" Patsy retorted and then added with a note of seriousness, "I feel like I can get through anything with you Deels - you know? Like we can cope with anything life throws at us, you and I. I want us to be together. Always."
With that Patsy crossed over to Trixie's dancette and set the record playing again. Then she turned and took Delia's hand and spun her round in a little pirouette. "You know, this song is far more jaunty than the words suggest - shall we have a little dance before dinner…?"
Delia laughed delightedly "Well, since you put it like that, it would be rude not to!"
She moved in close, sighing contentedly and revelling in the warmth of Patsy's nearness.
This was real: Patsy was home to stay.
—
TBC
Chapter Three Notes:
So, I was never happy about the fact that in CtM, Patsy had apparently not written to Delia at all - well that's how it appeared to me... so I decided to put that right with this chapter.
Bizarrely, I got this idea from a show at the Edinburgh Festival called 'The Carole King Story'. I was by far the youngest member of the audience - by at least 30 years!
But as soon as I heard the opening lines of 'It might as well rain until September', this whole idea of Patsy writing home to Delia and sending her that record, just formed in my head almost instantly!
Also, my mum has an original 1962 copy of that single. I played it recently (yes, I do vinyl!) and it sounded shocking. Not because of the song itself – which is lovely – but because my then teenage mother had clearly pretty much played it to death!
So... I though it MUST be good - here's the details:
"It Might as Well Rain Until September" is a 1962 song originally written for Bobby Vee by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. King recorded the demo version of the song and it became a hit for her.
It might as well rain until September - lyrics:
What shall I write?
What can I say?
How can I tell you how much I miss you?
The weather here has been as nice as it can be
Although it doesn't really matter much to me
For all the fun I'll have while you're so far away
It might as well rain until September
I don't need sunny skies for things I like to do
'Cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you
As far as I'm concerned each day's a rainy day
So It might as well rain until September
My friends look forward to their picnics on the beach
Yes everybody loves the summertime
But you know darling while your arms are out of reach
The summer isn't any friend of mine
It doesn't matter whether skies are grey or blue
It's raining in my heart 'cause I can't be with you
I'm only living for the day you're home to stay
So It might as well rain until September
September, September, oh
It might as well rain until September