All Comes Tumbling Down

Part 2 - Delia

The joy of assisting in the delivery of the Thornton baby was something Delia was determined to hang onto that day. Even if the feeling had been dampened by Patsy's reaction, or rather lack thereof. Delia left abruptly after her attempt at breakfast, keen to get out of Nonnatus and into the fresh air. Besides, she told herself, it would take her longer than usual to reach her first patient without asking Phyllis for a lift. And the fresh air would wake her up.

Taking in some deep breaths she tried to rid her brain of the grey fog that had settled there. The nurse in her was telling her she needed more sleep and her throbbing head seemed to agree. After all, to allow another fainting incident would not be sensible. Making an executive decision to keep going until lunch and re-assess how she was after that, Delia continued walking.

Her journey to Mrs Robinson's house was taking longer than expected. She had to double her pace after checking her watch. Almost 10 minutes later than she should have been. It would have to be a flying visit today which was unfortunate.

She really enjoyed the company of Mrs Robinson. The two had quite the rapport going on. It seemed that they had grown up in similar circumstances to each other. Gwen on a dairy farm and Delia in a little seaside town. It was nice to have a connection to back home that wasn't family. Delia rarely got homesick, but some days, talking with Gwen, she'd get the odd pang of missing the valleys, the quiet, fresh air of Wales. She felt guilty these days to think of home. Her mam had been writing but she had been ignoring most of the letters. Correspondence with her parents had been little more than a phone call at Christmas informing them she'd be spending the holidays in London this year.

Whilst Delia did miss the land, the countryside, the peace and quiet and the idea of Wales, she didn't really miss the people she'd left behind. Gwen on the other-hand talked of nothing else. She would natter on at length about her friends back in Llangynidr, regaling Delia with stories of her childhood when they'd camp out on the Brecon Beacons for days on end.

"Why did you move to London, Gwen?" Delia had asked her one day.

The Welshwoman stiffened. "It was for the best." she said sadly. "Wasn't my first choice to tell you the truth, but Larry was offered a job so we took it."

Delia suspected a lot was going unsaid but never pried. If Gwen wanted to keep herself to herself that was her business. Nevertheless there was something odd about the Robinson family.

Delia knocked on the green door of the terraced house that belonged to the Robinson's.

"Midwife calling!" she called brightly.

There was no reply. Delia's eyebrows knitted together in worry. This was most unusual. More often than not Mrs Robinson would be at the door in a flash, inviting Delia in and brewing up a milky cuppa all before you (or at least the Welsh) could say 'now in a minute'.

She knocked again, a little louder this time, trying to shake the feeling of anxiety that was already pooling in her gut. Straining to hear what was happening inside, she could make out murmured voices, one man and one woman. She pressed an ear to the door.

Welsh. They were speaking Welsh.

"Rydych chi'n haeddu gwell!" came an angry shout, muffled by the several walls seperating them.

"Rydym wedi sôn am hyn. Nid wyf yn gofalu am eich barn chi!" was the reply.

Delia tried the door and surprisingly it swung open. The hallway was dark, the only source of light coming from the kitchen up ahead. The voices continued, talking fast and in hushed tones.

"Beth fydd y bobl eraill yn ei ddweud? rydych chi wedi priodi rhywun gwrywgydiol! Wedi'r hyn a wnaeth i fy mab. Rydw i'n mynd i ladd y dyn hwnnw!"

Delia stood rooted to the spot, unsure if she'd heard correctly. She cleared her throat. "Hello?" she called, announcing her arrival.

The murmuring voices halted.

Gwen's face peered round the edge of the kitchen door. She looked drawn and pale, but plastered on a wide smile when she saw Delia.

"Nurse Busby!" she exclaimed. "Do excuse me for a moment."

Delia returned the smile cautiously. Gwen and her were on first name terms by now so it was odd to hear her address her in such a formal way.

"Come on through to the living room, I'll get you a cuppa." she called, disappearing from view again.

Delia frowned but followed the instructions. The living room was dark, curtains were drawn and the room had a stale air smell. Something was definitely off, Delia thought as she laid down her bag and tapped her foot nervously. Gwen always insisted on having the curtains wide, letting in as much light as she could.

Finally Gwen reappeared with the tea tray.

"I'm sorry," began Delia, "I didn't realise you had company, I can come back later."

"No, no, don't be silly cariad." sighed Gwen. "It's just my brother. Besides, he was just about to leave." she called pointedly in the direction of the kitchen.

A figure appeared in the alcove between the kitchen and the living room.

"Alright annwyl, I can take a hint."

Delia's eyebrows shot up. "Mr Thomas?"

Recognition flickered briefly across his face before he dipped his cap. "Nurse."

Gwen looked between them both, confused. "You know each other?"

Delia shook her head. "No, we met at the clinic a few weeks ago - when Andrew had his accident..." she tailed off.

Gwen nodded slowly.

"How's he doing?" Delia asked Mr Thomas. "Andrew, I mean."

Mr Thomas's mouth was tight as he replied. "He's doing fine. One of your lot has been round to see him every day this week."

Delia nodded. "He's a brave lad. You must be very proud."

"That he is." he spoke flatly, without emotion.

The three stood in silence for a little while, the awkwardness very apparent. Delia decided to break the spell.

"Anyway, I'd quite like a chat with Mrs Robinson if that's alright - check how baby's getting along."

Mr Thomas nodded curtly. "You go right ahead nurse, don't let me stop you." he made to leave the room. As he brushed passed, Delia caught a strong smell of alcohol.

"Gareth, wait..." Gwen called suddenly. Her eyes flitted between Delia and her brother, unsure and nervous.

"Best not to keep the nurse waiting, Gwen." he smiled, all teeth and no sincerity.

"Please... please don't - " she began.

Gareth tipped his cap and was gone, the front door slamming behind him.

Gwen wobbled on her feet and Delia had to rush to her side to assist as she sank onto the sofa.

"Idiot. He's been drinking all night." her voice was shaking.

"What's going on, Gwen?" Delia asked softly, placing her hand gently on Gwen's arm.

"This is why I told Larry we shouldn't have moved here. I knew he'd cause us trouble." she spoke almost to herself.

"Are you in any danger Gwen?" Delia asked.

Gwen shook her head. "I'm not, no."

Not quite convinced she was telling the truth, but not wanting to spook her further, Delia reached in her bag and pulled out the blood pressure cuff.

"What was he doing round here at this hour anyway?" Delia asked nonchalantly as she wrapped the cuff around Gwen's arm. If she was correct in translating what she'd overheard... But then again it was better to hear it from Gwen herself.

She shrugged, refusing to meet Delia's eye.

The small midwife's eyebrows knitted together with worry again for the second time that morning.

"Your blood pressure is awfully high again." she released the air from the cuff and removed it from her patient's arm.

Gwen didn't seem to think this was cause for alarm, she was staring off into space, worrying on her lower lip thoughtfully.

"Have you been feeling dizzy recently? Any headaches?"

Still no response.

"Gwen." Delia moved her body physically in front of Gwen's gaze. "This is important. Please let me help."

Gwen sniffed. "I'm not sure there's much you can do, Delia."

"Try me." Delia set her jaw. This Busby never backed down from a challenge and she wasn't about to start now.

"You are kind." Gwen smiled sadly.

"Listen. If something or someone is making you stressed then it's my job to help - I promise I've heard it all before." Delia coaxed.

Gwen looked at her incredulously.

"Okay, maybe not all." Delia admitted honestly. "But seriously, I want to help-"

"It's Larry." Gwen took a deep breath. "Gareth thinks it was him who ran Andrew over. He's convinced himself of it."

"Did he?"

"Of course he didn't!" Gwen exclaimed defensively. "He's just been looking for an opportunity to pin dirt on him, ever since we moved here - he wants Larry gone and he knows I ain't leaving him."

"I'm so sorry." Delia said softly.

Gwen sniffed again and gathered herself. "It's fine. After the baby's born me and Larry, we're moving away from here, far away. Where Gareth won't be able to stick his nose in."

Delia nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Gwen gave a hint of a smile. "I only wish we could do it sooner. But Larry needs this job, he needs to save - we only just bought this place." she waved her hand around the room.

Delia looked around. "Perhaps I should open the curtains, it's awfully dark in here. And some fresh air should do you and baby good."

She moved to stand but Gwen's hand pulled at her arm. "It's fine, honestly. I can do it later."

"I have all the time in the world, Gwen. Least I can do is help you clean up in here a little." Delia made her way towards the curtains and yanked them open.

Bright light came streaming into the room, illuminating dust particles in the air. However, one pane of glass on the window was covered haphazardly with tape and cardboard.

"What happened to your window?" asked Delia.

"Nothing, kids and their football." Gwen smiled weakly.

Delia's shoe crunched over broken glass that lay on the carpet.

"I patched it up no bother, Larry says he'll fix it soon."

Delia frowned. It seemed like an awful lot of mess for just a football. There were large chunks of glass all over the carpet in a generous radius from the window.

"I'm going to sweep up some of this glass. Don't want anybody getting hurt do we?" Delia said bracingly.

Something was definitely wrong she mused as she borrowed the dustpan and brush from under Gwen's sink. As she collected the bits of broken glass and debris she noticed several small stones and, under one of the side tables a larger stone with a piece of paper tied to it. She turned it over and gulped audibly at the red capital letters " R"

Delia's vision blurred, a strange taste appeared in her mouth and the sounds around her echoed in her ears. Brain fog descended and she stared numbly at the object in her hand. For a moment nobody moved.

"It's not true." Gwen's small voice filtered through.

Delia turned, shaking the fog from her mind, her blood beginning to boil. "Mrs Robinson, I don't care if it's true or if it is not - nobody should be throwing rocks through one of my patient's windows."

Gwen shrank backwards. Delia realised she'd raised her voice and took a moment to compose herself before talking a seat beside Mrs Robinson.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout."

Gwen shook her head. "I can't seem to stop them. The rumours. We thought they'd go away if we moved here - a place with lots of people, he could blend in." she slapped a hand to her mouth as she realised what she'd said. "I mean- it's just-" she stuttered.

"It's alright." Delia lay a hand gently on Mrs Robinson's before meeting her eyes with as much compassion as she could.

Her bright blue eyes locked with Gwen's deep brown. A frisson of understanding flowed between the two women and Gwen began to relax.

"Is that where your brother has gone? To find your husband?" Delia asked softly.

Gwen nodded. "He's at the garage. Hopefully he's not alone - Bill should be there by now..." she checked the clock on the wall.

"I could call the police?" Delia suggested.

"No! Oh goodness no. I don't want any more attention his way, it's better if we stay low."

"Okay." Delia agreed reluctantly. "But I need to know if there's anything I can do to help you."

"You listening to me is enough." Gwen whispered. "I don't have anyone to talk to here, no friends to speak of."

Delia looked thoughtful. "Have you attended any of our antenatal classes at the clinic?"

Gwen shook her head.

"It's for mother's to be, we have classes on breastfeeding, nappy changing, the works- it's a great place to meet new mothers, people going through similar things to you. They're every Thursday, I can give you a leaflet if you'd like."

Gwen's eyes lit up a bit at that. "Yes please, that would be wonderful."

"As for your blood pressure, I'm going to give Doctor Turner a call. Hopefully he can pop into see you later on." Delia said. "Just to be on the safe side." she added, seeing the worry in Gwen's face.

Aware time was ticking on and she still had several patients to visit that morning, Delia had to bid Gwen farewell sooner than she would have liked. It was clear the poor woman just needed some company, someone to talk to, but unfortunately this wasn't a luxury.

Perhaps she could pop by and see Gwen on her day off, Delia thought as she trudged down the road towards Mr Anderson and his bed sores. It was worrying to say the least that she was under this much stress, especially for a first pregnancy. Delia crossed the road to the telephone box and shut herself in the little cubicle.

Depositing some loose change into the phone, she dialled the number for Dr Turner's surgery. With any luck he might be able to fit her into his morning visits.

She left a message with Mrs Turner and continued on her way.

Mrs Aitken was next on her list. A very experienced woman, tough as old boots but with a very kind heart. This was to be her 6th (and hopefully final) child. Several of the others were running riot around her house and it was all Delia could do to locate a foetal heartbeat amongst the clamour.

Her head was thumping again - perhaps it was the noise, or the niggling worry about Mrs Robinson but she tried to push through the pain and concentrate.

"Any pain at all Mrs Aitken?" she asked, stowing the pinard away in her bag.

"None at all Nurse." came the reply. "Oi, Terrence, stop hitting your brother and Liam, give Henry back his spinning top!"

Terrence grumbled and Liam began to cry.

"Mrs Aitken, have you considered getting some help - just until after baby's born?" Delia asked tactfully.

"No, we don't need no help - managing perfectly fine on our on." Insisted Mrs Aitken, grabbing one of her sons by the scruff of his neck as he passed, attempting to peer into Delia's bag.

"On your notes I can see you've been put down for a home birth, is that correct?"

"Yes it is. Had the other five here and they went smooth as clockwork - don't intend on changing what ain't broken." she shuffled back to her feet.

Suddenly there was a smash of glass and Delia whipped her head around to see a broken bottle on the floor and Mrs Robinson's urine sample all over the carpet.

"Liam!" she screeched.

The aforementioned boy had decided the best course of action was to make a run for it.

"It's quite alright, Mrs Aitken - I'll deal with this." Delia tried her best to smile.

For the second time today she found herself sweeping up glass from carpet. She checked her watch, it didn't look like she'd have time to go back to the Robinson's to collect another sample before lunch. Perhaps if she squeezed in the time after her next insulin patient...

There was another crash and crying as Terrence created even more havoc by tripping over one of his younger siblings who consequently slipped on some of the urine that had spread onto the kitchen linoleum.

Delia pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to take a few deep breaths. This was turning into quite the morning.

After finally extracting herself from the Aitken household she tried her best to walk briskly to her next patient. Already running half an hour late at this point she broke into a jog before narrowly missing a cyclist who swore loudly at her in passing. Stopping to catch her breath she put her hands on her knees and panted. A dizzy sensation overtook her and she leant against the nearest wall, trying to steady herself. The strange taste in her mouth returned and the noise of the street went muffled for a moment. Then, quick as it had started it stopped. Everything cleared and Delia found herself being observed by an elderly gentlemen.

"Everything alright miss?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"Yes. Thank you." Delia smiled.

Gathering herself she continued onwards. Perhaps if she had time she could have something to eat after seeing her next patient.

"I don't want it."

"Preston, darling, you've got to - the doctor said-"

"I don't care. I shan't have it. I shan't."

Delia's patience was wearing thin. Preston Winters was a smartly dressed 12 year old with a doting mother and a tendency to be utterly infuriating. Usually he was visited by Nurse Crane who seemed to have a way with the young lad, but Delia was getting absolutely nowhere.

"Your mam's right, it's very important medicine."

"Your voice is funny. You're not from around here." he stared at her scathingly.

"No, I'm from Wales originally."

He sniffed. "We're from Kensington. Father still lives there and I get to visit him on weekends."

Delia did her best not to roll her eyes. It was not her job to judge patients. But it was becoming abundantly clear that Preston was a spoilt brat.

"It's just a small injection - Nurse Crane has given you them loads of times before." Delia encouraged.

"You're not her though. She makes it so it doesn't hurt. Doesn't she mummy?" he whined.

"Darling Nurse Crane is busy today, that's why lovely Nurse Busby is here." his mum tried to console him.

Preston was having none of it. His eyes welled up (clearly a technique he'd perfected well over the years) and his mother broke, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry."

Delia turned towards her bag and allowed herself a small eye roll. This really was ridiculous. She undid the clasps and searched through the contents for the insulin bottle. It was nowhere to be found. She groaned inwardly and tried searching for it again but it was futile. She paused, taking a moment to consider her options before turning to face the young boy and his mother.

"Nurse?" asked Mrs Winters expectantly.

Delia blinked.

"Are you alright?"

Delia nodded. "Of course."

"You looked like you were daydreaming there for a second."

Delia blinked again, trying to concentrate. "I'm sorry - I seem to have forgotten your insulin. I'll pop back to Nonnatus and collect some more."

Mrs Winters looked strained. "How long will that take?" she dropped her voice "It's just I've got to take him to his under fourteens lacrosse lesson this afternoon and they don't like it when he's late…"

"Rest assured I'll make sure I'm back within half an hour." Delia tried to smile, but her dimples were not functioning at full capacity today.

Having to divert course back to Nonnatus, Delia was becoming more and more frazzled. The thrumming in her head continued incessantly and she decided when she got back she'd take a few more of the painkillers Dr Turner had prescribed. Perhaps they would help her get through the rest of her shift.

Finally she arrived back where she'd started her day. Making speed towards the clinical room for the insulin she pelted headfirst into a very worried looking Sister Julienne.

"Oh Nurse Busby! I've been trying to reach you - I've just got off the phone with Doctor Turner, your patient, Mrs Robinson has been admitted to the London with suspected pre-eclampsia. They're running more tests now but it seems all the symptoms are pointing to it being a reasonable diagnoses."

Delia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm sorry! I should have noticed. I had a urine sample but it got destroyed -"

"She is in the best possible place, given the circumstances." said Sister Julienne. "However I must express caution for making sure all boxes are ticked in the future."

Delia nodded. "Of course."

"What brings you back here so soon?" she asked inquisitively.

"Oh, nothing - I just forgot Preston Winters' insulin..."

Just then Phyllis entered with a face like thunder.

"Nurse Busby! I've just been informed that Henry Aitken has been found unconscious after consuming what looks to be a considerable amount of insulin - orally I may add, which could lead to some very serious complications.

Delia paled, her heart hammering. The day had gone from bad to worse.

Fortunately sister Julienne took charge. "Nurse Crane, has an ambulance been called?"

"Yes, it is on its way."

"Good. Then I suggest you attend to Master Winters and administer his daily insulin."

Delia opened her mouth to object but decided against it.

"I will attend to Master Aitken, his mother and I have a good relationship - I do believe I delivered most of her children so I'm sure I'll be able to smooth things over there." The Sister turned her attention towards Delia, who was suddenly feeling all of two foot tall. "Nurse Busby I suggest you take the rest of today off."

Delia baulked at the expression on the nun's face. She was quite clearly angry, her mouth tight lipped and eyes stony. "Yes Sister." she replied simply.

"Good. That's settled." Sister Julienne proclaimed. "Nurse Anderson, will you assume telephone duty until we return?"

Delia was in a daze as she upended her bag and emptied her instruments into the autoclave. How could she have allowed for so many things to have gone wrong all at once? She'd never made this many mistakes before - let alone all within the space of a few hours. And now Sister Julienne was upset with her - she could lose her job if she wasn't careful.

Scrubbing her hands in the sink she tried to push the tears back into her eyes. No, she was stronger than this, it was probably because she didn't sleep well last night - the brain makes all sorts of mistakes when it's tired. Perhaps it was for the best the Sister had given her the rest of the day off - at least she hadn't fainted in front of a patient she thought wryly. The best course of action now was to curl up with a blanket and get some shut eye - everything ought to be better tomorrow surely.

Sighing, she closed the autoclave and set it to work, ensured everything was in its correct place (because to heavens if she could deal with another criticism today) and made her way towards the stairs and to bed.

Halfway up the stairs on the first half landing she stopped. There were voices filtering through from Trixie and Valerie's bedroom. One was quite obviously the former - her giggle quite unmistakable. Delia strained to hear the other, then a low chuckle confirmed it - Patsy. She frowned in confusion. Patsy was meant to have a full day's shift today, what was she doing back this early. And why was she talking - no, laughing, with Trixie when she could barely face the brunette at breakfast. Delia felt hurt, angry, upset and tears threatened to spill over once again.

Before she could take another step though, her vision swam. She tried to shake her head to make it go away but that just seemed to make it worse. A strange feeling of de-ja-vu floated through her hazy mind. That was odd. That weird taste in her mouth was back again and everything was going fuzzy in her peripheral. The fuzziness turned darker and her right hand flew out grabbing for the bannister rail. Her heart rate increased tenfold as her blood pressure fell through the floor. Then she saw nothing but black.