The nice warm weather has turned bitter today and the rain is lashing against my bedroom window. I find it relaxing really. It sounds a little musical. Drip, drop, drip, drop. I guess it has sent me into a refelective mood, which is kind of ironic considering I have no past memories.
I have given up trying to force myself to remember my life. I'm fed up with staring at my bedroom wall, willing myself to recall the slightest details. I feel as if I'm balancing on a tightrope; one false move and I would surely fall with no one to catch me. If I'm being honest that isn't entirely true. I have imagined that maybe Patsy would catch me. Stop me from falling somehow. These kind of thoughts have left me somewhat perplexed. They make me feel even more distant from others and I haven't a clue why.
Patsy has been on my mind quite a lot and she has even been in my dreams. It was all very bizarre really. We were wearing uniforms. Both different in colour. Mine being grey and hers being green. But we were eating chips in the house of God, surrounded by unlit candles. My parents, of course attend church every Sunday, but they don't seem overly religious. The mind is a very funny thing indeed.
Mam hasn't been far from my side and I must say that I'm rather enjoying her company. Especially when she sings to me. I find it soothing and curl up beside her on the settee. I like it when she runs her fingers through my hair until I begin to doze. I have been trying with all my might to teach myself how to write again. I desperately want to be able to send a letter to Patsy. There are a lot of things I would like to ask
her. Being by yourself all day gives you plently of time to think. Everytime I try to hold the bloody pencil it seems to roll around in my hand and ends up clattering to the table. I have lost my temper a few times and may even have said a few curse words but I get terribly frustrated with it. The tiredness doesn't help matters either and seems to creep up on me until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.
Well, there is no use complaining when mam is cooking a steak and kidney pie with extra gravy.
"That just hit the spot love." Pa praised mam, as she was clearing away the empty plates from another delicious dinner.
"Mmm... It was really tasty mam." I attempted to assist her with the tidying, but she placed a hand on my shoulder.
I really wish mam would let me wash up for a change, considering she did all the cooking but she won't hear of it. With a shake of my head, Pa's movements captured my attention and I became transfixed upon the whisky tumbler in his hand. As he rolled the glass back and forth between his fingers, I felt my surroundings becoming hazy. Was I having another Spell?
My head wasn't pounding the way it usually does. That was when I realised I was remembering something. I was recalling an actual memory. My breath hitched when I could clearly see Patsy. Her hair was blonde and she looked breath-takingly beautiful as she was sat perched at the end of a bed. Her head was bowed as she held a small drinking glass, lined with the smallest amount of whisky inside of it. Sweet nurse Patsy seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, as she too was rolling the glass between her long slender fingers. It was as if she had a heavy burden she just wanted to unleash but did not have the words or the courage to.
At the sound of mam's voice, I was snapped out of my memories. The vision of Patsy faded all too quickly as I adjusted my focus back on mam. Her face was etched with concern and I forced myself to smile.
"You feeling all right cariad? Because you gasped, just now." She held my hand and I suppose I should have told her that I remembered something, but I didn't. I guess I needed a moment of contemplation.
"I'm just feeling a little bit tired mam."
"Your cheeks do look pale, melys pys," Pa stated. "Love? Why don't you make her a cup of something warm and she can have an early night."
With a nod, I had to agree.
I rested my head against the pillow, and tried to force myself to stay awake. I wanted to see Patsy again. I wanted to see what else I could remember. The colours in my mind's eye were so vivid. I could picture every detail with perfect clarity, right down to the silk scarf elegantly placed around her shoulders and the pattern of the white polka dots against the deep rich brown of the silk.
My mind seemed flooded with all things Patsy, like a dam had burst. But finally having a memory to call my own had left me with a feeling of loss rather than any happiness. Shouldn't I be overjoyed? This one tiny moment in time was mine and I had it back. A little piece of my past had been returned to me. Maybe this sudden anxiety was simply impatience?
With a loud sigh, I rolled onto my side letting the pull of sleep overtake me. I could only hope this feeling of restlessness would soon pass.
Through my deep slumber, I felt myself begin to smile. Am I dreaming I wonder? There was a sensation and I felt it again, which caused me to turn my head. A feather light touch against my ribs that made me squirm. It felt nice and my giggles became louder. The surroundings were unfamiliar and the room was only lit by the glow of a bedside lamp. The hands moved faster and my back arched when fingers drifted under my white blouse. Who had tickled me? Someone moved closer against me. Hot breath against my ear and that was when I heard it. Patsy's voice. Her tone unmistakeable, as her pitch sounded husky; 'oh Delia.' She moaned as her lips pressed against my neck. My whole body tingled as my fingers ran through her soft blonde hair. The feeling that coursed through me as her body pressed against mine, as we rocked our hips together was indescribable. I grasped a hand full of the blankets as I moaned to her; 'P-please touch me Patsy.'
With a loud gasp, my eyes shot open as I sat bolt upright. It was already morning, and my heart was pounding in my chest. My cheeks were flushed and I could feel heat... down in my groin.
No, no, no. This can't be right. What is happening to me?
I ran my hands through my messy hair, and shook my head. I can't think like this. Tears filled the corners of my eyes as this strange flustered feeling took hold of my body. I opened my mouth to shout for mam, but I stopped myself. I covered my mouth with my hand. I can't tell her what I had dreamed. No! What would mam say? What would she think? Oh. What is wrong with me? I stared at my hands that have slumped in my lap. I am broken. I am wrong. How could I think of my dear friend in this way. My dear nurse Patsy. She would hate me. Be disgusted with me. Disown me. That is when I burst into tears. They just wouldn't stop. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I needed some fresh air. Stumbling out of my bed I could feel my legs begin to tremble, as I turned the door handle.
That is when I noticed mam as she was exiting the bathroom wearing her red dressing gown. "Cariad?"
"Mam?" I whimpered, arms out stretched like a crying child as she held me. I felt a little safer once she had engulfed me into her arms.
"Have you had one of your spells?" Bless her. She tried to sound strong but her fear could be heard within her voice.
"N-no. I had... a drea..." I faltered. I couldn't tell her.
"You had a bad dream?" She asked relieved.
Tears continually rolled down my cheeks, as I stared at her. I couldn't lie, not to mam. Tell her it was a bad dream when it wasn't. That very notion made my cheeks burn red with shame. As I tried to splutter out some sort of reply.
"Now, now," She hugged me tighter. Kissing the top of my head. "It's all over with now cariad. Just a dream." The way her words were soft and caring, I felt as if I had heard them before. "How about we have a nice cup of milky tea and a biscuit? That will soon have you feeling better."
Once I had washed my face, I joined her downstairs. For the first time the delightful smell of her cooking breakfast did not bring me comfort. I really did not feel hungry. That was when I noticed a letter placed inside of the fruit bowl. I recognized the handwriting. It was a letter from Patsy. My feet became rooted to the spot as I stared at the envelope.
"There you are," Mam turned from the stove. "Well, sit down and get your tea. It'll be cold." She ushered me to sit down with a wave of the spatula.
She placed a plate of biscuits in front of me. Taking one I sighed. The dream wouldn't seem to leave my mind and at the splash of the soggy biccy falling into my cup, my lip quivered.
"Once you've eaten your breakfast. I'll read out your letter to you." Mam told me, as I could feel the sting of threatening tears. "I've seen you staring at it. I'm surprised you haven't asked me about it."
"No," I blurted out. "I don't feel like it just now," I lied. Of course I wanted to know what Patsy had to say. I lived for her letters. Those words written on that piece of paper brought me one step closer to my former life in London. Closer to the girl I was, but how could I sit there and listen to them now? I can't. Not after my dream. The girl Patsy knew as Delia. Her dear friend is apparently lost forever because she would never have had sinful thoughts. Would she?
Breakfast seem to pass by in no time at all, and the little bit of bacon I did manage to force down didn't make me feel any better. To make matters worse, we will be having company this afternoon. Mrs Thompson and her daughter. They are in need of mam's seamstress skills. Apparently it is rather an elaborate evening dress, but if I'm honest I wasn't really listening. My head is pounding with the million questions I am asking myself over and over again.
With a shaky hand, I returned my tea cup to the saucer and continued to stare out of the kitchen window. The rain had gathered into various puddles, making the water ripple with each new droplet that hit it. Part of me longed to step outside into the downpour and let it wash over me. Maybe it would take away these odd feelings. The knock I took to my head must have damaged me more than simply losing my memories.
I must have been so deep in thought that I didn't hear mam talking to me.
"You're quiet today?" She asked, as she set out a wooden box full of different size needles, cotton reels, bugle beads and coloured ribbons.
"Mam?" I sighed. "Can I be excused up to my room?"
"Don't you want to stay and say hello to Helen? You haven't spoken to her in years and they'll be here soon." I could tell she was disappointed with me, but I wanted to be alone.
"Please mam."
"All right then. Only because I don't want you wearing yourself out."
Alone in my room, I could hear the sound of happy voices echoing up the stairs. They all seemed so contented. I wondered if I would ever feel that way again, but deep down inside I knew that it would be impossible for me. I would forever feel alone. I guess the empty feeling inside is something I'll have to learn to live with.
Throwing the blankets over my head, I just wanted this sorrow to leave me. This swirling sense of agony inside the pit of my stomach, gnawing away at me. It felt like an emotional anchor serving only to weigh me down. And the worst of it is, that there is no one I can turn to. No one who would understand. I guess this desolate journey I am on has to be done alone.
I stayed in bed for the rest of the day and I pretended to be asleep when Pa informed me that dinner was ready. I couldn't face mam. Truth be told I was scared. Afraid that if she looked at me closely enough she would guess. She would be able to tell that things just aren't right and I can't lose mam from my life, not when I have lost so much already.
Feigning sleep did not work so well the second time, and mam came bustling in through the door carrying a tray of food.
"Have a nice sleep, cariad?" She smiled lovingly, as she placed down the wonderfully smelling soup.
"Have your friends gone?" I asked, taking a welcome sip of barley water.
"Avoiding them were you?" She challenged.
My eyes instantly locked with hers, but I had to look away. I wasn't strong enough to face her level of scrutiny.
"Well, eat up," Mam sighed. I was glad she let the subject go, as I brought the spoon up to my mouth for a taste of my tomato soup. "Maybe you'd rather hear what your friend Patsy has to say."
All words seemed to have exited my brain at once as I watched mam opening up the crisp white envelope. The spoon I was holding began to rattle against the bowl as the same nervous tremor in my hands I had earlier seemed to return with vengeance. I should have told her to stop; that I did not deserve the kindness of the sweet-natured Patsy, but this was my only link to her. So I selfishly sat there absorbing each word. Her letters always convey so much to me. I close my eyes and like to picture her cycling along the dock at 5 o' clock in the morning. Her kind eyes greeting her patients and putting them at ease. She does work so very hard. Throughout her many letters to me I have noticed certain expressions seem to resonate with me. Stirring something forgotten inside, that wants to spring to the surface. A little phrasing here and there. I don't know. Maybe I am reading in things that are simply not there, but for example, the many different ways she tells me to 'keep warm'. I can't help but wonder if they hold a secret undercurrent to them. A hidden message perhaps? Oh everything is so very confusing and if only I could write to her myself.
If only I could see her.
A/N - Thank you for all the lovely reviews.
A very BIG Thank you to Steff, for reading this over for me and helping me correct all the little mistakes. Thank you! More soon. x