Her left hand stung as she scrubbed the barely healed cut with antiseptic. There was nothing worse than an infected wound, that's what she was always telling patients. So what good a nurse would she be if she didn't follow her own strict protocols?
Now both hands were clean, and an equal shade of freshly scrubbed red, she pulled on the marigolds and got to work. The kitchen was barely filthy - her constant attention to it these past weeks had seen to that. But there was always dirt to be cleaned. Always dust to be cleared. Always grime embedded in the surfaces, just out of her reach, no matter how hard she scrubbed. It was always there, it never, ever went away.
So caught up in her own thoughts, Patsy jumped a mile when the clock struck 3. She'd been at this an hour but it felt like no time had passed. The bowl of murky water sloshed in the washing up tub as she shifted her weight from her heels and stretched her aching muscles. Closing her eyes she inhaled the bleach, trying to allow it to fill every fibre of her being, to clean her from the inside out.
She knew she should go back to bed. What with a 7am shift in a few hours, and already running on little to no sleep, it really wasn't an option to stay up. But it would just be the same as it had been the past few nights. Tossing and turning, unable to stop the scrambled thoughts inside her head. For a while she'd considered asking Dr Turner for a sedative. But that would have raised questions. Questions she was not ready to answer. Questions she barely knew the answer to herself come to that.
Emptying the muck water down the sink, Patsy cleaned out the washing up bowl and set it aside to air dry. She peeled off her marigolds and laid them to rest until the next sleepless night came calling, and made her way silently towards the door. Trixie was on telephone duty that night and she knew the right squeaky floorboards to avoid that would catch the blonde's attention.
Padding quietly down the corridor she glimpsed the silhouette of the blonde, hunched over the on call desk, lit only by a small desk lamp. She paused a second - Trixie was never hunched. She was always too afraid of the side effects of bad posture for that. Curiosity peaked, Patsy moved forwards slightly. What she saw next made her blood run cold.
Trixie took a shaking, pale hand from under the desk. Clasped in her bony fingers was a small bottle. She brought it to her lips, took a swig before depositing it under the table again.
"Oh Trixie." breathed Patsy to herself.
Before she could react however, the telephone sprang into life, causing both Trixie and her silent watcher to jolt in surprise.
"Nonnatus House, Midwife speaking." she answered crisply and clearly.
Patsy was torn. If Trixie had been drinking, she was in no fit state to be on call. She stood in the darkness of the hallway weighing up the dilemma that stood in front of her. She simply couldn't allow Trixie to attend a mother giving birth when she'd consumed alcohol. She felt a pain tighten in her chest. Trixie was drinking and her best friend hadn't noticed. What had she been doing these past few weeks? Every time they'd talked the blonde seemed perfectly content - either gushing about the latest mascara fashion secrets or her most recent date with Christopher the dashing dentist. Trixie was clearly adept at putting on a façade to rival that of the redheads.
Trixie had replaced the telephone to its holder and had made no attempt to move from the desk. False alarm. Patsy breathed out a shaky sigh. She had to say something.
"Trix?" she called out softly.
Trixie spun around. "Oh it's you!"
Patsy smiled awkwardly. "I'm sorry old thing, was just getting a glass of water and heard the telephone go."
"Oh." Trixie visibly relaxed a little but was still rigid, her body language guarded. "Yes, that was Mrs Forsyth on Wick street, Braxton Hicks by the sounds of it, she's ever so jumpy, must be first timer's nerves."
Patsy smiled and sidled over towards the desk. She reached into her pyjama pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes before offering one to Trixie.
"You're full of surprises aren't you!" she giggled before taking one.
"I suppose it comes from being an Akela. Always be prepared." Patsy smiled warmly.
Trixie took a long drag before releasing the smoke out with a shaky sigh. "Thank you. Gosh, I didn't realise how much I needed that."
Patsy bit her lower lip.
"You know Trix, if you need to talk to anyone..."
Trixie let out a rather hysterical laugh.
Patsy tried to not look too alarmed at the outburst. "I just mean..."
"- I know." Trixie said glumly. Her eyes glazing over as she took another drag.
The two sat in silence for a while, smoking their cigarettes down to the butts. Eventually trixie extinguished hers and took a deep breath as if deciding something.
"It's Christopher."
Patsy quirked an eyebrow.
"We've... I mean, I've decided... We're taking a break. Possibly for a long time. Forever maybe."
"Oh Trixie, I'm sorry." Patsy put a hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"No, no, it's fine, it's for the best. His daughter needs her mother, not me, it's clear she's been distressed and... and I had to do the right thing." her voice caught and she turned to face the redhead. "It was the right thing." she repeated, as if trying to convince herself.
Patsy nodded.
Trixie smiled. A plastered on smile that would have fooled nobody. She turned back to the desk. "It's for the best. And besides, I can cope just fine without him." her voice was unusually high.
"Trixie, it's okay to be upset. You two were very close." Patsy began carefully.
Trixie was flicking through her notes now, no longer paying the redhead any attention.
"I'm just saying, if you wanted to take some time off, I'm sure nobody would mi-"
Trixie let out another hysterical laugh at that. "Oh Patsy, how can I take your advice when you barely head it yourself."
"What do you mean?"
Trixie closed her file and turned again to face Patsy.
"I know why you're down here. I know you come here every night to clean when you can't sleep. I'm not a fool so please don't act like I am one."
Patsy's eyes widened, a deer caught in the headlamps of an oncoming car.
"I saw the bottle." She instantly regretted it.
Trixie held her gaze, her eyes unwavering. "I don't know what you mean."
"Please, Trix, don't do this."
"Everything is fine Patsy, I don't know what you're talking about." she shot back.
"Let me help..." she tried to put her hand on the blonde's arm but she snatched it away as if it had been burned.
"No!" she spat."And unless you want Delia to know about your little outings every night I suggest you go back to bed."
Patsy reeled. She was well and truly cornered. Her eyes narrowed as the cogs in her brain processed what she'd just heard. Deciding to cut her losses and run she turned and headed upstairs, her heart hammering loudly in her ears.
Did Trixie know? Did she suspect? Why had she singled out Delia? Had it been a thinly veiled thread regarding the real secret between the two of them? No, Trixie would never... Patsy gulped and locked herself in the bathroom.
She sat, her head spinning, feeling dizzy, a pain pounding in her head. Trixie had never said anything before about knowing the true meaning of their relationship. Delia had suspicions that Trixie knew but didn't want to say anything to upset the status quo. The heels of Patsy's hands kneaded her closed eyes, making her see colours behind her eyelids. She should have just kept walking, ignored her and gone back to bed. But she had just been worried - she'd just been a concerned friend wanting to help and had gotten her head bitten off for it. And now possibly put her relationship and job at risk. Bile rose in her throat at the thought and she collapsed forwards onto her knees, barely making the bowl in time as she vomited.
Wiping away her mouth she flushed and attempted to calm her breathing. It was proving very difficult, her breaths were short and sharp, flooding her system with more oxygen than it needed, causing her to become light headed. Her heart was thudding faster and faster and the tips of her fingers and toes began to tingle with pins and needles. A black void was sucking her in, a black void with Trixie shouting, Delia shouting, Sister Julienne proclaiming everything was a sin, an abomination, she was destitute, living on the streets, in a back alley, coughing, fever, dying...
A sharp rap on the door lifted the haze for a moment, enough for her to fumble the lock open with dead fingers. Two shapes collided into the room, one going straight to her side the other squatting in front of her.
"It's all right Patsy, we're here." came an east end accent, but it seemed miles away.
Warm arms wrapped around her waist and held her gently.
"You've got to slow down your breathing, you're having a panic attack."
"Breath with me Pats." came a smaller, Welsh lilt.
The arms around her tightened and then released as their owner took deep breaths. Patsy tried desperately to focus on their rhythm and match it with her own lungs.
"That's it cariad."
"You're doing great. Keep breathing slowly."
"In for five, out for five Pats."
She began to regain feeling in her fingers and toes.
"One, two, three, four, five... Out, two, three, four, five."
The room came swimming back into focus, along with the concerned face of Valerie Dyer. "Count with us." she said softly.
Patsy tried to speak but she couldn't.
She became aware of a warmth pressed against her back, strong arms still wrapped around her shaking body. Breath fluttered in her ear.
"One, two, three, four, five..."
She felt her feet on the ground. She was in the bathroom, what was she doing here? She'd came here after - oh. Her breath began to speed up again but the strong arms holding her resisted.
"No, no Patsy, you're doing really well, keep going. In, two, three, four, five..."
Eventually everyone in the small room was breathing in sync. Patsy's eyes had closed, the bathroom light burned and made her head throb unpleasantly. When she finally opened them, Valerie had disappeared, yet the warm arms around her remained.
"Delia..."
"Shh... I'm here. Let's get you back to bed. It's getting cold in here."
Patsy nodded numbly, allowing herself to ease forward, freeing the Welshwoman.
"Stand up slowly, I don't want you fainting."
She followed the instructions and allowed herself to bed led back to their shared room. Delia closing the door gently behind them and easing Patsy onto her bed.
"I'm going to get you an extra blanket, would you like a glass of water?"
Patsy nodded, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. Delia seemed reluctant to leave the room but darted to the bathroom quickly to fill a glass.
She settled next to the redhead, her hand making small comforting circles on her back as Patsy sipped the water.
Patsy waited. Waited for the questions that were going to follow. She was tired, ironically all she wanted to do was sleep. She was not in the mood for an interrogation. But the question when it came, was not what she expected.
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
Patsy looked up at the brunette sat patiently next to her. Her lip wobbled as she nodded her head slowly.