I can only apologize for the long hiatus with this story...

Sleep Warm

The next morning I found myself waking with the dawn. My mind still in the haze of yet another dream. Every dream I have lately leaves me with even more confusion. Various images all seem to blend together with no rhyme nor reason. One moment I am bustling down a hospital corridor with the echoing sounds of my hurried foot steps. Then I find myself standing on a beautiful pier; hands sticky from melted ice cream cones wearing a grin so wide my cheeks hurt.

The next minute I am transported to a room that has only become vaguely familiar to me because I have dreamed about it so often. The room in question is rather on the small side and as far as I can tell it only contained the most important essentials. What I find most significant about this room, maybe my room? Is that it's a place where I always seem to find sweet nurse Patsy. She is always so close to me there in that room. Her elbow brushing against mine while we sit side by side flipping through text books. Her fingertips tentatively reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear. Those ocean blue eyes over flowing with tenderness as they lock with mine.

I guess I am just fooling myself because no matter how hard I try I can't distinguish what is real. Are these dreams actual memories or are they just a hopeful fantasy? A way for my mind to let some light into the harsh darkness? Because what if they are not just dreams? Then... does that mean Patsy is like me? No! I shouldn't entertain those silly notions. How on earth would someone like Patsy be like me. My feelings for her would never be reciprocated. I am only going to break my own heart further with this line of thinking.

She is my friend.

She is only a friend.

My best friend. My... everything.

What I dreamt last night was not so pleasant. Patsy was crying and I was trying to offer what little comfort I could as she knelt beside my bed. I held her close while her body racked with sobs. I felt helpless. I just wanted to take her pain away. I just wanted to be there for her.

The dream has left me with an even stronger desire to contact her and I have decided that a letter written by myself is the best way to go. I might not be able to ask her all the questions that I truly want to know, but I can still reach out to her. Repay her kindness for not forgetting about me.

However, all my attempts at actually trying to write have all been futile and with reluctance I abandoned my fourth draft in favour of a piece of buttery toast, kindly made for me by mam.

"You've been staring down at that note pad all morning, cariad," mam sighed, trying hard to keep the note of disproval out of her voice. I think she is just relieved to see me out of bed.

"You'll get a headache if you're not careful."

I could feel mam hovering over my shoulder all morning, but she was right. I did need to take a break. I really didn't want to have another headache. I think I have had enough of those to last me a life time and the words on the page had all started to blur together. It had been rather a frustrating morning.

"I've already explained that I want to send Patsy a letter mam."

"But you don't have to tire yourself out while you're doing it. What is the sudden hurry?"

I reached for her hand as she placed down a cup of tea and gave it a squeeze. "If I ever want to get better, then I have to try. I can't keep lying in bed all day sleeping."

"Just have a sip of your tea. It'll be cold."

One hour later and yet another piece of writing paper was scrunched up and in the bin. This was becoming disheartening. What I really wanted to say just wasn't coming out right. I just couldn't seem to convey my thoughts into words. I wanted to thank Patsy for all of the kindness and thought she had shown me in all of her many letters. I want to ask her so many questions. I would like to tell her so many things.

Why must this be so stressful?

Patsy deserved a sonet, instead all I have written; messily I might add, is a few jumbled thoughts.

I soon found myself snatched out of my daydreams by a brown paper parcel being held up in front of my face.

"Look, melys pys. A parcel has arrived for you," Pa waved it with a wide grin. "Hopefully this will return the smile to your pretty face." He sat down next to me, looking at me expectantly.

I knew before I even opened it, who had sent it. The handwriting gave her away every time. Rubbing my thumb lovingly over her words, I carefully opened up the paper. Moving away a piece of cardboard, I smiled down at the 45" vinyl record in my hand.

"A song?" Pa smiled as I handed it to him, along with a note that was attached to it. I didn't want to waste time reading it over myself. I needed to know what she had said. "Frank Sinatra. Your friend has good taste. Don't think I haven't noticed all those teen-booper records you own sung by that Fury boy." He laughed as he began to read out the letter.

As it turned out, Patsy had heard this record playing upon the wireless radio and thought I may enjoy it. She went on to explain that she had to look in two different record shops before she could track it down. Patsy insisted it was quite the little adventure. That brought a smile to my face imagining Patsy riding through the streets on her bike hunting down this song.

The first song title, Pa read out for me was: Mr. Success. This did not resonate with me, but when he said: Sleep warm my heart began to beat faster. Warm. Patsy is always telling me to keep warm in her letters. Was this some kind of secret message? Or was Patsy just being thoughtful yet again? She is a nurse after all and caring for people is ingrained in her. Well, for now all I can do is give the record a listen and more importantly, I really need to finish that letter.

"Shall we play your song now, melys pys?" Pa smiled, when I gave him a nod. "I'll go fetch that turntable from your room then."

This would be the first time I had asked to use it since I had returned home. My many 45s had been left to gather dust. I must have really loved listening to music, because there are too many records to count. Maybe I should start listening to them again?

Taking a second look at my record, I noticed Patsy had written something on the label.

Love P x

Maybe I had other vinyl records from Patsy in my collection. I would have to have a look later, but for now all I can think about is hearing Sleep Warm.

He placed the needle onto the edged groove and I smiled watching the rich colour of the purple label spinning round and round. The gentle tones of the music captured my ears and my arms began to tingle, as I listened to the words. One lyric in particular really caught my attention.

'What a lucky pillow.'

Was Patsy really trying to send me some coded message?

Taking the last letter I had written out of the bin. I gave the crumpled paper another once over, while my Pa raised a curious brow as to what I was doing. My words might not be as articulate as I would like, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't at least try and for sweet Patsy it's the least I can do.

Dear Patsy,

Hope you are keeping well?

Now, where do I begin?

If I'm being completely honest this is the fifth letter that I have tried to write. Please forgive my rather appalling handwriting, won't you? This is the first time that I've tried to use something so simple as a pen, since I had my accident and I'm still getting reacquainted with the art of letter writing. Who would have thought using a fountain pen could cause a person so much difficulty? I am however going to consider the fact that I haven't got any blue ink all over mam's lovely white tablecloth; a small success.

I do hope this is making sense? I tend to lose focus these days, although the doctor has assured me that it is quite normal for someone who has sustained head injuries like I have. It's rather fortunate really that I have my very own talking dictionary with me. No, it isn't some wondrous new invention. It's only my Pa helping me out. My eyes get very tired if I try to read and looking up words myself can be rather frustrating when half way through your search, you've forgotten the word you were trying to find in the first place.

At least I haven't lost my sense of humour, it seems. Then again I wouldn't really know if I had one before. I guess you could tell me that? Oh, Patsy there is so much I would like to ask you... So many questions, but I fear I would run out of paper. I see the hurt inside my parents eyes whenever they mention something that I can't remember. I know that they pray I will, but I don't. Maybe I never will, but I have to hope.

Hope is all I have...

I'll be eagerly awaiting your reply, because receiving a letter from you Patsy, has been the equivalent of seeing a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds after a violent storm. I know you must be terribly busy with your duties around Poplar, but your letters really mean the world to me. That I am not forgotten. That you haven't forgotten me.

Hopefully this letter will be the first of many.

All my love,
Delia x x x

P.S I absolutely love the song you sent me. I have it playing in the background as I'm writing this to you.

Thank you, Patsy.

I miss you.

... It broke my heart a little, when Pats and Deels left our screens. *Sigh* And I lost touch with this story, but even after all this time I still had some lovely comments telling me not to "give up" on this story, and that they still enjoyed reading it. I can only say a BIG thank you for all of your words of encouragement. I've been sitting on this chapter for probably a year and after listening to some 60s music I got the rest of it finished. I hope you still enjoy it? I haven't written Pupcake in so long that I'm a little rusty at it.

I still love Pats and Deels... That will never change.. :)