A/N: A big thank you to Steff, who makes everything that much better. Always feel free to leave a review below. We writers do so cherish any response that is given.
Delia found her girlfriend sitting on her own bed in her room upstairs. A quick glance at the roster on her search of the lower rooms had revealed that Trixie was out on call. Having been on duty all day, Patsy had been assigned recovery time. Barbara was out as well, and Nurse Crane was downstairs on telephone duty. The brunette was assured that they would be alone. From the look of Patsy, it seemed that some privacy was just what they had needed.
Patsy had an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. A lighter shook in her hands. She looked up as Delia entered the room and sat next to her.
"I cannot stop my hands from shaking," she said frustrated.
Delia took each of Patsy hands in her own.
"It is the adrenaline. Just give yourself a minute to calm down," Delia said soothingly. She took the lighter from her hand.
"Delia, can you please?" Patsy pleaded gesturing toward her cigarette which had fallen into her lap.
Delia picked it up.
"All right. Just this once but only so that it will calm you down and frankly I could use one myself," she said as she placed the cigarette to her own lips. She lit it and took a drag slowly.
It had been a long while since she had smoked at all. Honestly, she had only ever started to meet up on smoking breaks with pretty girls like Patience Mount. Once she had begun to see the long term effects of smoking in her patients, she had quit for good. There was nothing more sobering than the sight of a black lung. It had been harder to stem the addiction in her girlfriend who had smoked since she was a teenager.
Delia grimaced at the unfamiliar burn at the back her throat. Exhaling, she placed the cigarette to Patsy's lips and watched her inhale. Taking the lit cigarette she held it and watched an ease come over the woman beside her.
"Thank you dear." Patsy took the cigarette from Delia's hand and tapped the end into the ashtray on the bedroom stand. Still shaking slightly she leaned her head onto Delia's shoulder.
"I thought that was it Deels," she said in a frightened vulnerable tone that only Delia ever heard.
"But it wasn't. We are safe for the moment I presume," Delia said as she rubbed her hand soothingly on Patsy's back.
"Although apparently I have to duel with Timothy Turner at dawn for your hand," she said shakingly.
"Oh darling. No chance. You are the champion fencer." She grinned relieved, as she felt Patsy relax into her.
It was a difficult situation. Breaking the heart of a 15 year-old boy was not ideal in any way. She had become to enjoy their friendship over the past year. They shared a love of learning that had grown past required school work for both of them. He even listened to her talk about Wales, which she missed dearly. Sighing, she took a second drag on Patsy's cigarette.
However, Delia was more disturbed by the intrusion on their secret private lives. While she was positive that the young man meant no harm, she knew that he had to be stopped. The consequences were too dire.
They embraced like that for awhile as they each eased their own fears. Eventually, Patsy released her and fell back onto the bed. Laying on her back she kept her eyes on the ceiling. Delia fell back beside her, but instead turned on her side next to her. They laid like that for awhile. Delia could see Patsy battling within herself as her feelings risked surfacing. She had long become accustomed to these silences as her girlfriend carefully sorted through her own thoughts. Unlike herself, Pats tended to pick things apart tediously. Delia knew not to push her in these moments.
"What are we going to do?" Patsy finally asked.
"It's simple. I will just explain to him that 15 year old boys are not my cup of tea. He will cry on his pillow brokenhearted and then find a girl his own age." She grinned, trying to be light-hearted about the situation.
"But Deels, what if he saw something? What then?" Patsy said still shaken.
"But he didn't. There is no way that he could unless he's got a bloody X-ray telescope on our windows," Delia smirked.
It was true. They had not been to Chelsea in 6 weeks. And mainly down to conflicting shifts they had only had the opportunity for coffee dates during this time. Anything possibly deemed indiscreet had occurred in either Patsy or Delia's bedrooms under lock and key. Unless Timothy had been hiding in their closets there was no way he could have any inkling.
Patsy was quiet for a moment. Delia could see her jaw clench as she fought her emotions. After a few quiet minutes she spoke.
"You know that the guards in the camp, they used to watch us all the time. You couldn't go anywhere without being under watch." She closed her eyes, as if she had travelled back there. Patsy was always this way, whenever she spoke about the camps. It broke Delia's heart to see her reliving such horrible experiences. However she knew that once spoken of, then they ceased to have such power over her girlfriend.
She reached for Patsy's hand and squeezed it gently.
"It feels like that. Not knowing if someone is lying in the shadows, waiting to expose us," Patsy whispered.
"Darling, it is going to be all right. We will deal with this as we have dealt with whatever is thrown in front of us," Delia said soothingly.
They each took a moment in which to collect themselves. Once satisfied that their heart rates had settled, Delia rose.
"Pats, sweetheart you look done in," Delia said empathetically.
"It has been quite the day," Patsy sighed as she started to unbutton the top of her uniform.
"Get some rest sweetheart. All of this will work itself out, I promise," Delia reassured her. Leaning over she placed a kiss on her cheek. "I love you," she whispered.
"I love you," she heard in return.
It was just after 11 pm when her blonde roommate finally slipped in the door.
Patsy turned toward her bed as Nurse Franklin slipped off her shoes and lay down. Having lit a cigarette, her friend sat up leaning against the headboard.
Patsy had been trying to read to calm her mind, but found that all she did was mindlessly stare at the same page. Surrendering to defeat, she closed the book and placed it on the nightstand.
"Success?" Patsy asked drowsily.
"Twins. Boy and a girl. I thought it would never end," she sighed.
"It never does get easier, does it?" Patsy asked empathetically.
"Or my joints just get more stiff. What are you doing here? Is Delia out?" she grinned in return as she tapped her cigarette in a nearby ashtray.
It had long become an unspoken understanding between the nurses about their personal lives. Even though she was blonde and flirty and fun, nonetheless Trixie didn't miss a trick. The nurses each had their own dark secrets that they kept for each other.
"No. She just has a lot on her mind and needed some solitude," Patsy said solemnly.
Delia had left a few hours ago weary but still steadfast about what needed to be done. Patsy had felt slightly guilty. It should have been her comforting Deels, not the other way around. Still, it was the roles they played. Delia had always been stronger.
"What happened with Doctor Turner? You were getting pulled in with Delia as I was on my way out. Is it a patient?" Trixie asked as she pulled out her kirby grips and started her skin regime.
"No, it was not a patient. It was a personal matter," Patsy shrugged trying to sound nonchalant.
Trixie turned back toward her with a face full of something that smelled vaguely lemony. She smirked. "Patience Mount. I'll wheedle it out of you eventually. Spare me the effort sweetie," she said coyly.
Patsy rolled her eyes. And then gave in and told her the whole story.
"It is really not that funny Trixie," the redhead said indignantly but with a slight smile.
"Oh sweetie, but it is" she managed between guffaws. "Really, I should feel insulted. It is usually me they all have a crush on. I guess word has made it around that I have a chap," she grinned.
Indeed Trixie had been stepping out with Eugene, a salesman, for at least six months. He was not David Niven, but he was clearly besotted with Trixie and that was all that mattered. It took a few weeks but Trixie finally admitted that she had met him at Alcoholics Anonymous. They knew each other's faults and that meant a great deal. Patsy felt he was of the utmost character and that meant all the world.
"In any case, I am sure Delia will deal with it sweetie. She is remarkably level headed. You really are quite lucky," Trixie said assuredly.
Patsy nodded in agreement. It was both exhausting and nice to be able to speak with her friend about her relationship so openly. Still, such coded language was necessary since both knew the dire consequences of dark secrets. Perhaps someday the world would be different, but until then they settled for willful deniability.
Trixie settled on her bed with a face full of skin creme and an issue of Vogue.
"Friday, we should have a girl's night," she said as she turned a page. "It has been ages since we last went out together. And that Steve McQueen movie is playing at the Cineplex," Trixie offered.
"The one where he escapes from a POW camp?" Patsy asked dubiously.
"All right, we'll go with something lighter. I just miss us all together. Please say you will?" Trixie asked with intense sincerity.
"How can I say no to such a face?" Patsy yawned.
"It is a date then," she smiled as she turned out the light.
All Shelagh knew was that her stepson seemed to be in a panic. Having gone into his room upon arriving home, she heard the various crashing sounds loudly through a closed door.
"Timothy what is it?" she asked concerned.
Having found the photographs in his room a few days ago she had given them to her husband. She knew that he had discussed them with Nurse Busby and Nurse Mount. Since then she had been anticipating the possibility that her stepson would react in his own way. She did not like the idea of going behind his back and ambushing him emotionally. Still she had wanted to protect two women whom she thought well of professionally.
Admittedly Shelagh struggled with understanding the women's preference for each other, rather than men. It did not coincide with anything that she understood about God's plan for a woman's role. All she saw was a life of unfulfillment and fear for two women who were so full of promise. Despite all that, her life as a nun had taught her kindness and compassion for all. It was not for her to judge how God had created these women.
"Mum!" she heard a strangled cry from her son's room. She marched over and pushed open his bedroom door.
"Timothy Turner, what have I said about yelling in the house? Now, what is the matter?" she asked sternly.
Tim looked up as he was searching through a drawer in his desk. He looked a touch feverish.
"I had a notebook and some library books here. Have you moved them?" he asked in a shrill voice.
"I did take your library books back to the library. They were overdue," she pointed out.
"Mum! I needed those books for a study that I'm conducting," he protested. He reached for his jacket. "I need to get them back as soon as possible," he insisted.
"Timothy, we can not go tonight. Your father will be home soon and then you have proper homework to do. It will just have to wait," Shelagh rationalised as she turned to walk out of the young man's room. He followed her pleadingly with his jacket still on.
"Mum, it can't wait. I need those notes now. I bet they got mixed in with the books and will get thrown away," Tim argued.
"What kind of study is this anyway? Is it for school? Because I did not know that you were studying Welsh for your lessons," Shelagh countered.
"I just need those notes. I don't have to tell you why. Not everything is your business!" he insisted.
Shelagh put a kettle on the hob and started pulling out the makings for dinner.
"Nonetheless, we are not going to the library tonight and that is final. Now your father will be home any minute, so take off that jacket," Shelagh persisted.
She heard Timothy's audible huff as he pulled off his jacket and hung it back up. They each heard the door open as Doctor Turner walked in. Looking up to her husband she saw that they had another visitor.
"We need to talk," Delia Busby said as she entered the room.
To be continued...