A/N: Big thanks to Steff for the grammar and sense check. She's really great and everyone should read her work. Reviews and feedback are always welcome, so drop a line if you have a moment.
Even though he knew it wasn't physically possible, Tim felt his stomach fall to the floor. There was no scenario for which he had planned to ever see Miss Busby in his home. And certainly not one where she wanted to speak to him.
"Tim, Miss Busby is addressing you. Show some manners," his father barked as he crossed over to kiss his wife on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry Miss Busby, I wasn't aware that you were visiting. Would you like a cup of tea?" Shelagh asked graciously.
"Thank you Mrs. Turner, but it's not necessary. I won't be long," Miss Busby turned with a hospitable smile.
Tim watched the exchange keenly. He decided that the gentle nature of the exchange was a good omen. Perhaps Miss Busby wanted to talk about the dance at school or had a science question. She always looked to him to explain complicated theoretical concepts. Longingly, he often thought about the afternoon that they had spent discussing relativity. He had stressed that it meant that time was a flexible fluid object. To him it meant that the years between the two of them weren't as constricting as they seemed. Miss Busby had simply shaken her head.
They didn't always talk of science. Sometimes Miss Busby would talk of a film that she had seen. Or an exhibit that she and Miss Mount had visited. Tim wasn't much interested in the humanities, but he loved to hear her talk about anything. And he wanted to be able to show that he was interested in her subjects as well. For example, he had gone out to the record store and listened to every Stevie Wonder album available. Listening in the booth, he could still picture her ebullient face as little Stevie Wonder sang and played.
Despite his initial nervousness, he broke out into a welcoming grin. He liked the idea that she come all the way to his house to talk to him.
He liked that she needed him.
"Tim, how about we find a place to talk in private?" she asked, looking at his mum and dad.
"There's always my office," his father offered.
"Sounds good," Miss Busby replied. She nodded Tim's way and indicated that he could lead the way.
He led her down the corridor to his dad's office. It was considered a forbidden place if his father was hard at work or with a patient. Otherwise, Tim held fond memories of sitting at the foot of his father's desk building cities of wooden blocks. Now he sat in one of the two chairs, while Miss Busby sat on the other.
She had given her coat to mum upon entering the house. However she still held onto her handbag which rested on her lap.
"So, what is it that we need to talk about Miss Busby?" he asked eagerly.
She looked down wearily to her lap, and then raised her eyes to meet his own. He noticed that the smile on her face didn't meet her eyes. She shook her head, sighing slightly.
"How many times have I said that you can call me Delia?' she said grimly.
"I'm sorry," he quickly apologised. "What is this all about?" he continued, slightly more nervous now.
"Tim. We're friends, correct? So I need you to be honest with me," she said carefully.
Tim nodded in agreement.
"I talked to your father a few days ago." She opened her handbag. Pulling out a few photographs that were held within, she placed them on the desk that they sat in front of. Tim leaned over to look at them. His smile quickly turned to a grimace. He shrunk back into his seat.
"Tim, you're not in trouble. But I do need to know: Did you take these pictures?" she asked.
His throat was suddenly filled with a hot ball that he couldn't swallow down. It meant that he couldn't say anything even if he knew what to say.
"I'll take your silence as confirmation." She gathered the photos back up in her hands and offered them to him. "Why were you taking pictures of me? Why were you spying on me?" she asked insistently.
He looked into her face. He saw a strange combination of hurt and confusion. Tim suddenly felt an urgent need to take all that negative emotion away.
"It's not what you think," he said desperately.
"What is it then? Please make me understand," Delia asked in equal measure.
"I was conducting a scientific study," he stuttered. "I needed to conduct observation in different environments and make notes. The photographs are part of the study," Tim continued persistently.
"And why were you studying me Tim?" she asked critically.
"I just want to understand everything about you!" he blurted out exasperated.
She leaned back in her chair, putting space between them as they each caught their breath. Tim shook uncontrollably in his chair. The room that had held such nostalgia before had become suffocating. He desperately wanted to leave as soon as he could.
Miss Busby finally broke the silence as she shoved the photos in his direction. When he wouldn't take them, she placed them on the desk.
"Tim. You do know that we are just friends," she leveled her piercing eyes straight through him. "And that is all we can ever be," she said with grave finality.
He nodded as if in agreement, but really he just wanted to find a way out of this room immediately.
"This spying needs to stop immediately. Do you understand?" she said sternly. Tim could only nod mutely. He had never seen Miss Busby so angry. She vibrated with such angry energy that he felt it hit him like a wave.
"Women are not objects for study, Tim. They are people who can choose what they wish to reveal to whom. Everyone has their right to privacy. Including myself," she said as she rose to leave.
"But…" he said pleadingly.
"Tim, you have lost my trust. It will be difficult to win it back,"she told him determinedly.
"Miss Busby, I'm sorry," he said dejectedly. He suddenly refused to view anything other than the floor.
He heard a sad sigh from above him. Feeling a finger underneath his chin, he couldn't stop from lifting his eyes up to meet hers. The face he saw was full of kindness and compassion. He saw the corners of her lips lift.
"Tim, please understand that I'm really not angry with you. I'm flattered, but my heart is spoken for, so you need to find a girl your own age," she said with a graciousness that reached her eyes. She headed toward the door, but stopped and turned before opening it. "I fear that our afternoon study sessions will need to end. Your father and I agree that now it would be inappropriate. Good luck with your A levels. I'm sure that you will make your parents proud," she ended and exited the office.
Upon returning to Nonnatus, Delia headed straight to her room. A quick stop at Nurse Crane's room, confirmed her suspicion that Patsy was out on a call. As she flopped onto her bed, she regretted her choice to handle this alone. She had purposely chosen to go to the Turners on a night when Patsy would be on duty. Sparing her girlfriend the drama had been her intention, but now she desperately needed some consolation.
Delia had always been a friendly person. Even when it became clear that some catty nurses judged her for being Welsh, she still greeted them with a smile. Kill them with kindness she had always believed and she had won over her co-workers at the London. It had also drawn in the notoriously prickly Patsy Mount, whom it turned out was a secret sweetheart. Unfortunately she knew that her overt cheerfulness gave some men the wrong impression. Wandering hands were met with a wagging finger and a disapproving eye. She sometimes threw in a Welsh curse for good measure.
Exhausted, she just wanted to curl up in a ball alone and push the sight of Tim Turner's dejected eyes out of her mind. It had been unbearably difficult, and yet she felt that she had done what she needed to do.
She rolled over in the direction of the door to see her lover creeping in. Patsy moved slowly but deliberately toward the bed. She was dressed in flannel pyjamas, having changed after being out all day to assist a difficult labour. Delia lifted her covers inviting Patsy into bed. Patsy scrambled in and wrapped herself around her girlfriend. The brunette sighed and cozied in closer to her lover's warm body.
"I tried to get here as soon as I could," Patsy settled in laying her head on Delia's chest. "What can I do to help?" the redhead asked.
Delia looked toward her with eyes steadfast. "Tell me you love me," she asked intently
"I do," Patsy said half-smiling.
"Tell me that this is worth it," Delia continued.
"I believe that it is," Patsy kissed the top of her head.
She sighed. It felt good to have Patsy surrounding her. In the times that they had been able to share a bed in Paris and Brighton, or even just here in Nonnatus, the proximity had kept their relationship alive.
"Please stay," Delia asked.
"Anything that my girlfriend wants, she gets," Patsy said.
Delia turned to face her as she turned on her side. Patsy was the same.
"Pats. I don't want to be selfish. I know that you have a family here and I don't want to make you choose. But if I have learned anything from this experience it is that we need a safe space. And I don't feel safe here anymore."
"Darling, if I could throttle that young man I would," Patsy replied and reached over to clasp Delia's hand.
"Don't blame him. He doesn't know the danger that he's stumbled into," Delia replied.
"How can I blame him for falling in love with you?" Patsy smiled wistfully.
"It's to be expected, I suppose," she said cheekily.
Patsy laughed smirkingly. "No argument from me, Deels," she riposted.
A creak from the hallway broke their revelry. Frozen they both looked toward the door. After a few moments they breathed a sigh of relief.
"I understand your hesitation Pats. Living here has brought us back together. But it's tainted for me now. I need to leave. Soon." Delia insisted as she nuzzled back into Patsy's side.
She clung to her until her eyes drooped heavily and exhaustion took over.
After Miss Busby left the teenager tore a path straight to his room and closed the door. Flopping on his bed he looked around his room in disgust.
Suddenly, everything that he saw mocked him. The robot models that he had posed so proudly now were embarrassingly childish. His science posters that he had saved all his pocket money to order were now unbearably nerdy.
No wonder that he didn't have a chance with her.
Tim found himself paralysed. He analysed the scene that had just happened in his mind a million times. Waiting, he dared not move until Miss Busby had left the house. A knock on the door stirred him from his daze.
"Tim, your dinner is waiting. Come out and eat," his mum asked good-naturedly.
He knew that it wasn't her fault. Still, every cell in his body vibrated with acrimony. He rose suddenly and pushed past her.
"I'm not hungry mum. Leave me alone," he said over his shoulder.
"Tim, you should eat something dear. Can I at least bring it in on a tray?" his mum asked.
"Do whatever you want" Tim shrugged sullenly.
He sat up as his mum brought in tonight's meal and left it on his desk. She approached him fretfully.
"Tim, I understand that you're upset. Maybe with myself and your father but please know that we only want the best for you." His mum moved toward the door.
"Mum? Can I ask you a question?" Tim asked as he looked toward her.
She stopped and nodded toward him. "Go on" she prodded.
"Did you ever have feelings for anyone before my dad?" he questioned.
She sat down on the bed next to him. "As you know I was married to God before your father, so I suppose I felt love for Him."
"That's not what I mean. Was there no one before you joined the order?" He sighed and shook his head.
"My village in Scotland was very small. Women were only meant to marry a farmer and then have his children who would then become farmers. Farming held no interest to me, so I only focused on getting out of there as fast as I could with my independence available to me" his mum recalled.
"Miss Busby said the same thing about her village" he agreed.
"It seems that her and I, are not all that dissimilar after all" his mum smiled. She ruffled his hair and pointed toward the food tray.
"Eat up. Your food is getting cold" she said as she rose toward the door.
Later on staring at the ceiling, there was one moment that stuck in his mind. Tim was used to being lied to by adults. He understood that sometimes lies were told to be kind, rather than to hurt others. Miss Busby had said that she was spoken for. Yet, Tim could not determine any other suitor. The only other individual that she kept consistent company with was Miss Mount that he had observed. He had not witnessed any other male pursuing Miss Busby in London. Clearly Miss Busby was lying to him to put him off.
Or she had a secret herself.
He became determined to find out who this secret lover was and why he didn't do the gentlemanly thing. Where was this mystery man? Clearly he wasn't worthy of Miss Busby if they weren't already together and married.
Tim decided that he would expose this rogue who was unworthy of Miss Busby's affections. He would save her and she would see that he was worthy of her good books.
Tim Turner would win her back.
To be cont.