Mother Knows Best
December, 1960
"Cariad? Are you awake?"
Delia grumbled, her head was pounding and she didn't really feel like getting up. She heard her mam enter her bedroom and rip open the curtains. Light poured into the room turning her vision red behind her eyes. Her head hurt more.
"Come on now, Delia - we've got an appointment with the GP today, remember?"
Delia huffed and opened her eyes at last. Enid was staring at her intently, waiting for a response. For a brief moment Delia considered playing with her and pretending she had no recollection of where she was - but the shrewdness of her mother's eyes quickly quelled that defiant thought.
Instead she nodded and tried to get up and out of bed. Her mam fussed around her, helping her out of her pyjamas and into her clothes. She didn't physically need the help anymore - her injuries were almost completely healed. But complaining was futile. The one time she'd tried, her mam had bitten her head off with 'I'm just worried about you, cariad' and 'can't I be a mother to you for once in my life?'. Delia had decided to play along. After all, her mother did have her best interests at heart.
Enid took her to the doctor's office that morning, a small little one storey building, the opposite side of tenby. It was a long walk and she was inevitably fussing over the brunette's health the entire way. Delia knew that her accident had been particularly emotionally hard on her mother. The poor woman it seemed had been fretting non-stop over her, making sure she followed the strict advice the doctors from the London had gave her and then some. She'd refused to let Delia out of the house unaccompanied, in case she'd have one of her 'spells' as she called them. The seizures had stopped a few weeks ago now and Delia was getting a bit fed up of being indoors. But it seemed her mam always had an excuse to guilt trip her into staying glued to her hip. Delia had started to recall her memories at record speed. They'd mostly come back in chronological order and at first Enid had seemed ever so excited at her ability to recall. As time wore on however, the excitement changed to more of a resentment, every time Delia so much as mentioned anything to do with London. It made sense though, London was where the accident had happened, therefore her mam had every reason to be afraid. Delia knew she'd studied in London but any further recollection of her time there was still blank. Perhaps it was for the best she didn't remember her time there - from what her mam had said, it had been pretty awful.
The doctor examined Delia, asked her a few questions about her health, which, inevitably, her mam answered for her. The brunette felt a little out of sorts. She could speak for herself after all, it's not as though her power of speech had been taken away from her. Frustration rose to the surface and on the walk home she made her opinion known. Enid was not pleased.
"Cariad, I'm doing this for you, I can't believe you're being so ungrateful. After all we've done for you these past few months, helping you get better." She sniffed dramatically and blew her nose on her handkerchief. "Now, let's concentrate on getting better shall we, instead of fretting."
Delia never questioned her again after that. She felt awfully guilty - her mam was right. The next few weeks felt like she was treading on eggshells around her mother, not wanting to say or do anything to upset her further. Everything she did felt like it was under a constant scrutiny, it was utterly exhausting.
And then the church service happened, arranged by her mother to welcome her home. The choir had began to sing an Elvis cover and suddenly, seemingly unprompted, memories of London and training came flooding back. It was like a dam had broken in her mind and was almost too much to handle - she couldn't control the tidal wave of new emotions and started to panic.
Her mam spotted her gasping for air and was by her side quickly.
"Cariad, what's wrong?"
"This song... I... I can't..." Delia choked out. "I've got to go." She stood up.
"It's a lovely song, now come on, don't be rude there's still more to go yet. They've all gathered here for you and you don't want to let them down now do you?"
Delia shook her head. "No, it's not that." She smiled up at her mother. "I remembered."
Instead of looking pleased, her mam looked increasingly worried. "Remembered what, cariad?"
"London. Nursing school... What happened before the accident."
Enid's eyes were the size of saucers. "Now now, let's not worry about all that. You're home now, no more accident." She tried to pull Delia back down into her seat.
Several people were starting to turn around and stare at them.
Delia stood her ground and shook her head again. "No... no, these aren't bad thoughts mam... they're good ones... happy ones... I think." She narrowed her eyes, trying to grasp at the rapidly disappearing clouds of memories.
"Nothing about that place was good, Delia." Mrs Busby's voice was now low, a warning almost. "You got complacent there and look what happened." Enid gripped Delia's arm, almost forcing her to sit down. "Tenby is home now, it always has been. It's where you're safest."
Delia resisted and screwed her eyes shut. Something wasn't making sense - and her mam's cold voice in her ear was not helping. She needed to get out of here, she needed some space. Ripping herself away she made for the exit and finally escaped into the cool night air. Thankfully her mam did not follow - she was probably warding off questions from bystanders.
She trudged around the side of the church, the choir inside had finished singing their Elvis cover and were preparing for the next song. She felt a pang of guilt. The concert, or service if you will, had been organised for her as a celebration - and here she was walking out on them. But right now she needed time along to gather her thoughts. Up until that point all memories of London had been very hazy, this was the first sign of clarity she'd had.
And then the choir started singing again.
All Through The Night.
Blonde hair... No, red hair? Puffy pink sleeves. Cigarettes. That throaty laugh, the lopsided grin - training school, a hammering heart, a tentative first kiss... the square dance, a lantern parade, yellow walls, a vase on a windowsill, the night at the flat before... before...
It felt like a punch to the chest. Like her heart had been restarted, jolted back into life with an electric shock. The images projected onto the cinema screen of her mind were playing in reverse as if the projectionist had not quite been able to link the reels together properly. But finally the pictures were clear and in colour.
And one image that stood out above all the rest. A laughing face, the smell of Johnny Walker and bleach... copper pigtails, full lips and a beautiful smile.
Patsy.
She hadn't mentioned the recall to her mam. The whole episode she'd passed off as not feeling well. The downside to that excuse however had been Enid's extra caution in the following days. Despite Delia's assurance that she felt a lot better the next day, her mam was convinced her wobble was a harbinger of doom and required even more cotton wool to shield her daughter from the world.
But late at night, as the memories became sharper and more defined, Delia would sit over her writing desk, trying to figure out what she was going to say. It had taken a good few weeks before her fractured wrist had healed enough for her to write again. But now she could finally put pen to paper she had no idea what she wanted to write.
One thing was weighing on her mind, was Patsy even real? or was she a figment of her own imagination. Surely if her memories of the past were to be believed, then the read head would have written to her or made some sort of contact. But there had been nothing, not a peep from Patsy. It was making her wonder if she'd made the woman up. And so, she wrote her a letter, in the hope that she'd reply and prove her doubts wrong. It was a simple letter, one that could easily be passed off as a pen pal correspondence.
She sealed the envelope, entitling it 'Patience Mount, Nonnatus House, Poplar, London' and made her way downstairs. Perhaps she'd be able to sneak out to the postbox. Unfortunately before she could get her shoes on her mam stopped her in her tracks.
"Cariad, where are you going?"
"I thought I'd go for a walk and post a letter." She said breezily.
"But what about your turn the other day, we can't have you walking out there on your own, the pavements are all icy."
Delia looked down at the floor despondent.
"Let me post your letter?" Enid offered. "I'm off to shop anyway for some eggs."
And so that was that. A similar excuse followed the other two letters that Delia tried sending. And still no reply for the redhead.
By the time they were due to visit London and see the neurology doctor, Delia had all but given up hope that Patsy even existed. And then, standing at a bitterly cold bus stop in the snow outside Harrods - she'd seen her.
What followed was possibly the worst row she'd ever had with her mother.
"You never posted my letters to Patsy did you! Why!?"
"It was for your safety, Cariad. I thought you'd abandon me, the safety of your home... all for nothing. Just to go back to where all the horror happened? I couldn't let you do that."
"Mam! I'm twenty four, not twelve!"
"And it's only by the grace of god that you'll see twenty five!" Enid retorted, close to tears.
Delia's shoulders slumped. Perhaps her mam was right, London was quite dangerous. She didn't want to upset her and the tears had started to roll down the older woman's face. The guilt stabbed Delia hard in the gut as she watched despondent. Her mam had done so much for her over the past few months, she'd nursed her back to health, kept her safe, given her a roof and food. Perhaps she was being ungrateful.
"I'm sorry mam." She whispered.
"No, caraid, I am." Enid sniffed dramatically. "I just, I can't bare the thought of you coming back to live here. What if I lose you?"
Delia wrapped her mam in a tight hug. They didn't normally do physical contact, but it felt like the right response for once.
"You won't lose me mam."
April, 1963
Delia sat on the window seat of their little cottage living room staring out over the Welsh countryside.
She used to window gaze during her convalescence, unable to actually go outside - the view was quite refreshing. But now all the memories of that horrible couple of months had come flooding back. How had the void between her and her mam become so large? She wanted desperately to please her mother, it was as if it was the default setting inside her brain. So to storm out on her like she had felt all wrong.
But a part of her knew it had to be done. She was no longer a child and she needed to stand up for herself. Her true happiness was in London. And, like it or not, she'd told her mother that's where she wanted to be. Not only that she'd told her in no uncertain words that she loved Patsy.
She'd told her mam she loved Patsy.
Such an action should've felt freeing or at least somewhat liberating, but in all honesty it was making Delia feel slightly sick. Not that she'd expected warm hugs and acceptance for the news, but to be told to 'get out' had definitely stung. The problem was, where did she go from here? She could potentially go back and apologise. No. That was not an option. She wouldn't apologise for loving Patsy, ever. Her mam had clearly taken their coming to Tenby as a personal jab. She'd said as much - suggesting they were rubbing it in her face!? That was downright unfair. If Delia had come to her hometown with a man, the tale would have been very different. Were the neighbours really talking about them?
She shook her head, brain fog beginning to settle. Waves of anxiety flooded her system, her heart beating erratically. The sick feeling lurched and she suddenly felt like she was going to vomit.
Scooting off the windowsill she just about made it to the downstairs toilet in time.
Her head was pounding again, a dull throbbing ache across her temples. Then small stabs of pain surfaced low in her abdomen.
She groaned and resisted the urge to hit her head against the wall of the bathroom.
Fantastic. No wonder she'd been feeling extra emotional yesterday. Well. This was one way to end a holiday.
Gingerly she got to her feet and opened the bathroom door. There was no sign of Patsy and Delia breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want the redhead worrying even more than she probably was at the moment. It was still quite early - early enough she might be able to slip back into bed again without waking her partner.
The curtains were still drawn tightly shut as Delia slid into their shared bedroom. The darkness instantly calmed her throbbing head. Trying to memorise the room's layout, she rootled around as quietly as she could in the dark to find some supplies, realising, all too late, that she'd left them in London. She wasn't due for another week and had planned on getting away with having a lovely holiday without interruptions of this nature.
She did manage to locate her painkillers however and the jug of water that lay next to them. Pouring a glass as quietly as she could, she downed two of the pills.
"Delia?"
Not quite as invisible as she'd hoped then.
"Hey, you." She whispered, "Don't get up, I'm coming back to bed."
The dark silhouette of Patsy murmured in agreement and sank back down again.
Delia joined her, wrapping her arms tightly around the taller woman and burying her head into her pyjamas. She smelt of warm, sleepy Patsy as the Welshwoman inhaled the calming scent deeply.
"Are you alright?" Patsy whispered, stroking the brunette locks gently with her free hand.
"M'early." Delia mumbled incoherently.
Patsy shifted onto her side, eyes searching in the dark to find Delia's face. "What was that?"
"I'm early. My monthlies."
"Oh, Deels."
Patsy flicked on the bedside lamp.
The light stung and Delia's eyes snapped shut as a new throb of pain went through her head.
"Sorry." Patsy winced, "do you want me to turn it off again?"
"No, it's okay." Delia sighed, finally opening her eyes to see the concern etched over the redhead's features.
Patsy reached out and lightly laid her hand on Delia's tummy. The brunette's mouth twitched into a little smile.
"Does explain why I was so... emotional yesterday."
Patsy's face crumpled sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about it... yesterday, I mean."
Delia pondered the offer for a moment. She did want to voice her thoughts, but at the same time she was utterly exhausted and just wanted to go back to sleep. Eventually she settled for a tiny head shake.
Thankfully Patsy seemed to understand.
"Shall I pop down to the chemist and get you some supplies?"
Ever the practical one.
"Yes please." Delia smiled.
Patsy's mouth twitched into her trademark fishhook smile. "And some milky tea for breakfast?"
"That sounds heavenly." Gosh this woman was amazing sometimes.
"Have you had your painkillers?"
A nod.
"Good. Now, lie back down and I'll see if I can find a hot water bottle in this house."
Seriously, what did she ever do to deserve someone so wonderful.
Patsy left the bed along with her wonderful warmth as she disappeared downstairs. Delia rolled over onto her good side, trying to ignore the growing pains in her lower abdomen. Trust her body and her mam to ruin the end of a perfectly good holiday. They were due to be travelling back to London the next day. Her stomach lurched at the prospect of travelling. She grumbled and tried to find a comfortable position. And there wasn't even a bath she could soak in. Suddenly the infamous shower lost all of its previous kudos.
Unable to stand the light, she reached over and turned off Patsy's bedside lamp. The instant darkness was very welcoming to her headache and helped her relax back into the mattress.
Sleep it off Busby, she thought to herself, sleep it off.
Patsy added the fourth spoonful of sugar into Delia's milky white tea and stirred it in. The sugar should give her a little energy, she thought, even if the brunette wasn't up for eating anything.
The events of yesterday had left Patsy in a state of rather numb shock. She found herself going through the motions of everything, heating the kettle, searching for a hot water bottle, filling it up... but it all felt like she was watching someone else do these things from across the room.
It had been impossible not to overhear the majority of Delia's conversation (if you could call it that) with her mam. Huw had plowed on regardless, ignoring everything. Then they'd heard the crash as Delia punched the table. Even Huw couldn't ignore that and they'd come bursting into the scene. Whilst Patsy was proud of Delia for finally standing up to her mother, the fact she had hurt herself in the process was verging on the ridiculous. She'd been almost relieved when they'd left, but now, in the cold light of day, it was clear this was far from over.
Stirring the already dissolved sugar in Delia's tea, she pondered her next move. A large part of her wanted to storm up to the Busby house and give Enid the what for. However, that would be completely overreacting and likely wouldn't help anyone. The more level headed approach would simply be to talk to the woman. Clearly Delia wasn't going anywhere today other than from bedroom to bathroom and back so that left the task to her. Relishing the thought, she loaded up the breakfast tray with a milky well sugared tea and a piping hot hot water bottle and made her way back upstairs.
It was gone lunchtime when Patsy finally plucked up enough courage to set out for the Busby's house.
She didn't even know what she was going to say. Normally for her, some resemblance of a plan was mandatory before such a confrontation. But whatever had happened yesterday between Delia and her mam was not right. She couldn't stand by and do nothing. Having witnessed more than her fair share of families being torn apart for much worse reasons than a small spat, Patsy refused to let this go without a fight. It was clear there was something was going on and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. How though, was a completely different question.
In fact by the time she'd walked the short distance to the now familiar building she was starting to regret the decision to storm up without a plan of attack. Her hand hovered, poised to knock on the front door.
Before it could make contact with the wood, the door swung open on old rusty hinges ro reveal the round face of Huw Busby smiling at her sadly.
"Helo Patsy." He sighed.
It was clear he'd seen her through the window. Patsy had taken such a long time before she even considered knocking, he'd come to her rescue. Equal parts glad and resentful she was now no longer stuck on the doorstep facing a conundrum. He held out his hand offering her access inside.
"Come in."
Patsy's eyes flickered behind him, almost expecting to see Mrs Busby looming behind, hackles raised, breathing fire like a terrifying Welsh dragon.
He seemed to read her mind.
"Enid's gone out for a walk, don't worry. It's just me."
Clearly this was who Delia got her attentiveness from then. Cautiously she slipped inside and Huw shut the door behind her.
"Apologies, there won't be any tea on offer right now, I'm in the process of fixing the kitchen taps. The winter did a number on all the pipes in this old place." He began to whistle jovialy as Patsy followed him timidly towards the kitchen.
"That's quite alright." Patsy smiled.
Huw offered her a seat at the little breakfast table in the kitchen before resuming his task. His knees bent with an almighty crack as he lowered himself back down inside the kitchen cupboard.
"I suppose you're here to give Enid the old what-for." He chuckled at Patsy's mortified look. "Don't worry, she's all bark and no bite that woman."
Patsy drew herself up to her full height, slipping into her professional persona. "My only interest is ensuring Delia's happiness, I can assure you. Not going after any personal vendettas."
Huw nodded solemnly. "I know bach. And believe it or not, despite this jolly exterior, I'm not completely blind to the way my daughter looks at you."
Patsy froze, her heart thudding loudly. He knew? Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She didn't know what to say to that.
Huw took a big sigh and lent back on his haunches, his knees cracking again. "I always knew she was different so I did, never brought back any boys or even mentioned them really. Apart from old Dai of course, but they were just best friends, nothing more."
The redhead's shoulders relaxed a little as she realised she wasn't in any immediate threat of judgement from the stocky man.
"She always had it in her head what she wanted, and be darned if anyone else could tell her otherwise." He chuckled, "And then she left for London. I knew she'd find herself there, in a way she could never here."
He picked up a loose washer and began fidgeting with it. Patsy watched the small piece of silver metal travel between his fingers as he dexterously moved it between them.
"I'm glad it's you she chose."
Patsy gulped. Was this the equivilent of having his blessing?
Huw dropped the washer suddenly and cursed in Welsh under his breath as he tried to locate it under the skirting board. Patsy spotted the glint of metal near his boot and rose from her seat quickly to help him. As she handed him back the washer she saw him up close for the first time. His eyes were exactly the same as Delia's. Bright blue with a hint of mischief and wonderful laughter lines were entrenched in his skin from years of dimpled smiles. She wondered if Delia would look like this when she was older. It was a vision she very much hoped she'd get to see.
They sat, backs against the kitchen cabinets, staring off into space for a while. Eventually Huw broke the silence.
"Enid don't mean it. Not really." He sighed. "She's just terrified of losing her."
Patsy swallowed. "That makes two of us then."
"Please don't judge her too harshly."
"I wasn't - " Patsy began to protest, but Huw held up his hand.
"I know how she can be. How she can appear at any rate. But she's been through a lot as I'm sure you know."
The expression of confusion on Patsy's face spoke volumes. Huw looked shocked.
"Delia never told you did she?"
Patsy was growing more and more confused by the second. "I don't know what you mean."
"Gerwyn. Her brother."
"I thought her brother was called Dylan?" Patsy asked, now completely befuddled.
Huw's eyes glazed over with a sadness. "Aye, there's Dylan. But there was also Gerwyn."
Patsy's eyebrows shot up. Delia had never mentioned any of these people before. The redhead had talked about her family with the brunette, had Delia not felt comfortable enough to open up in return? Then she rewound the sentence and noticed the past tense.
"I'm sorry, 'was'?"
Huw took a deep breath. The same way Delia did before she revealed something very personal to her.
"Gerwyn was born in 32'. He was our first child. Enid and I had only just got married and she found out she was pregnant. We didn't really know what to do - we were utterly clueless and in love." He smiled wistfully as he recalled the past. "He was premature the doctors said, I'm sure you know all about that sort of thing. Anyway, when he was born he was so small. They kept him in hospital for near on half a year before we could take him home." He sniffed. "Naturally when we did get him back, Enid wouldn't let go of him. She wrapped him in cotton wool so she did, scared he'd go missing or get hurt." He shook his head forlornly. "And then, it was during the winter, he was two. Poor chap got a cough. We didn't think much of it but it got worse overnight. Enid blamed herself of course, so did I. We thought we'd failed as parents. Anyway, they took him into hospital, I can remember he looked so small and sacred." Big fat tears were rolling down Huw's face now. "We never saw him again."
The air was knocked from Patsy's lungs as she tried to draw breath. Eventually some air found its way into her as she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Huw wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Doctors said Enid might never conceive again, but a few years later along came our little miracle."
Patsy rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, offering it to Mr Busby. He took it graciously and blew hard.
"She was perfect. We adored her long before we even set eyes on her." He whispered. "And then, when she was two, the war broke out."
Patsy sighed. This part of history was now within her living memory.
"Of course Enid was terrified. So was I to be honest with you. There were nights where we'd sit huddled round the wireless, searching for any scrap of positive news. Of course, Enid's sister Blod lived in London still at the time. Silly old bat refused to leave and it was driving poor Enid mad. Anyway, we got a ton of refugees sent to us. There was a huge strain on the community but we all pulled together. I even joined the home front. Then Enid got pregnant again in the summer of 1940."
"Were you not in the army?" Patsy asked, slightly confused. If her calculations were correct, Mr Busby would have been within the age bracket of compulsory national service during the time.
Huw suddenly hid his head. His hands twisted awkwardly in his lap.
"What happened?" Patsy asked tentatively.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave them. Especially with another baby on the way. What if something went wrong like before?" His lower lip wobbled. "I managed to fail the physical, pretended I was mental. Before they could take me away though, I ran. I ran back home. Like a bloody coward." He spat out the word as if it were poison on his tongue.
Patsy tried to hide her shock. Delia's dad had dodged the draft.
"Why?" she asked finally.
Huw looked up with wide eyes, silently pleading for her to understand. "I couldn't leave them, please don't think I wouldn't have died for my family, I would have. But I felt I had a better chance of protecting them here, rather than in some far of country the other side of the word."
"Does Delia know?" she whispered, already knowing the answer.
Huw shook his head. "Nobody knows. Not even Enid. I hid the letter from her."
Patsy nodded numbly. She was torn with conflicting emotions inside of her. It had been instilled into her by her father that draft dodgers were the lowest of the low. That during the first world war, the worst thing someone could do was to be a coward. But what Huw was saying made sense. If she were in his position would she have not done the same? Of course there'd been talk after the war had ended about the draft dodgers. That men like that had no right to be called 'men' at all. She used to despise them, blame them for not saving her and her family. It was easy to pick someone to blame for everything, that's what humans did. But of course none of it was that easy.
Unaware of the tidal wave of emotions going on inside Patsy's head, Huw tentatively asked a question.
"Was your dad in the army?"
Patsy snapped back to reality with a sudden jolt. She shook her head. "No. He was a shipbroker."
"In Singapore?"
He'd remembered. Patsy couldn't help but be impressed. She nodded.
"I had a school friend who moved out there, part of the merchant navy. He was interned in one of those awful prisoner of war camps. Poor fellow was never the same after he got out."
Patsy sniffed dryly. "At least he got out."
Huw's eyes widened. "Wait... you?"
Patsy nodded grimly. "My mother, my sister and I in one camp, my father in another."
"Oh bach, I'm sorry, I had no idea."
Patsy sighed. "I was nine. We were interned for three years. My mother and sister didn't make it. When we were finally released my father sent me to boarding school in England. I don't think he ever wanted to see me again. I reminded him too much of my mother."
Huw was at a loss for words, so Patsy kept on going. It felt good to talk to someone who had no idea, no pre-conceptions of what she'd been through.
"Then I got news last year he was dying. So I traveled across the world to see him." She sniffed and smiled. "I'm very glad I did. I got to see him as a father properly, before the end."
The world went black and suddenly Patsy realised she was drowning in a large crushing hug.
"I had no idea." Huw whispered. "Forgive me?"
Patsy shrugged as they broke apart. "It was a long time ago."
"But you're still grieving for your father are you not?"
Patsy pondered for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted finally.
"Bach, you need time to grieve." Huw sighed. "I tried to return to normal too soon after Gerwyn's death and it ate away at me from the inside. And you can see what it's done to Enid."
Patsy felt numb. She didn't know how to respond to that.
"You need to let yourself be sad. Not just for your father, but for your mother and sister too."
A lump formed in Patsy's throat. She tried to swallow it down but it would not budge. She'd never even considered this as a possibility. Her mother and sister's deaths were so long ago now, it seemed pointless to consider mourning them now. Besides what good would it do? They were gone. No amount of crying could ever bring them back. She felt a sudden flash of anger. Mr Busby had no idea what it was like. Sure he'd lost a son as a baby but he hadn't had to spend his childhood in a camp with no running water, watching people die from disease and starvation, unable to do anything to stop it happening. What did he know.
"I know I'm not in the best place to be handing out advice." Huw began.
She swore for a moment the busby family must be able to mindread.
"And you have every right to ignore my advice. But please, don't close yourself off from Delia. It's clear she thinks the world of you. Nobody else would dare punch a table in front of Enid without a good reason."
They shared a smile between them. Their shared connection of awareness of the brunette and her stubbornness bringing them closer together.
All of a sudden the front door opened and keys clattered into the key bowl near the door. Huw winced.
He and Patsy managed to get to their feet just as Mrs Busby entered the kitchen. All the colour drained from her face as she saw who was standing with her husband.
"Mrs Busby," Patsy said calmly and clearly, "I was wondering if we could have a little chat?"
Enid's eyebrows disappeared, her cheeks flushed and her eyes darted from Patsy to Huw and back, as if expecting Huw to say something.
"Please, cariad, listen to what she has to say." Huw offered softly, trying to thaw the ice around them.
Mrs Busby heaved a great sigh before nodding in agreement.
"Why don't you go through to the living room." Huw hinted. "I'll finish up here and when I'm done I'll bring you both through some tea."
Wordlessly the two women made their way into the lounge. Mrs Busby took the rocking chair in the corner, Patsy the two seater sofa.
They sat in silence for a moment, Mrs Busby rocking nervously back and forward. The motion was making Patsy feel increasingly sick. It was clear she was on the defensive. Waiting for the taller woman to make the first move. Patsy sighed. Now she knew the truth all the fight had left her and she no longer knew what to say. Enid's beady eyes watched her intently from across the room.
"Well?" she broke the silence. The single syllable soaked in contempt.
Patsy sighed again and dragged her eyes up to meet Enid's. "Mrs Busby," she began, "I know we perhaps haven't got off on the best foot and I would like to start again. Not for my sake or yours, but for Delia's."
Clearly whatever Mrs Busby had been expecting it hadn't been that. Her shoulder slumped in almost relief at the fact Patsy hadn't began a shouting match straight off the bat.
"I know you don't agree with the concept of her and myself but, I can assure you our interests are far as Delia is concerned are entirely mutual."
"Listen to yourself." Enid finally spoke. "You make it sound like my daughter's a business deal."
Cold gripped Patsy's heart but she ignored it. Perhaps 'Professional Patsy' should take a back seat. It scared her to do this as she'd always presented the most polite part of herself to Delia's mother whenever they'd met. It was (at least in her opinion) her best bet (out of a large collection of personas she could call upon) at communicating with the confounded woman. But today Mrs Busby was having none of it. She wanted the unfiltered truth? So be it.
"Enid." Patsy began again.
The use of her first name made Enid's back straighten and she finally held Patsy's gaze steady. Perhaps she'd been caught off guard - how dare Patsy use such familiar terms without being invited to.
Using the shock as a distraction, Patsy continued. "Whether you agree or not, I love your daughter. And she loves me. Nothing you can say or do will change that."
Enid was still shocked into silence, so Patsy took her chance and kept going.
"Believe it or not I know what it's like to lose someone before they were meant to go," she whispered, softer now. "And I can assure you as long as I have breath in my body I shall do all that I can within my power to keep Delia from harm."
Mrs Busby's lip was wobbling, her composure had started to crumble. Patsy barrelled on, unable to stop now, if she did, she'd never be able to say this again.
"I know it might not have been what you envisioned for your daughter's future, but this was her choice. And she is truly happy in London, surrounded by her patients and her friends. She is a wonderful nurse and possesses outstanding compassion. More than anyone I have ever met. She's saved me, more times than I care to admit." Patsy's voice broke from the sheer emotion.
Her eyes were welling with tears that she couldn't hold back. The room was blurry behind the salty liquid, but she could make out a shape moving towards her. Something soft was laid into her hand. White cotton. A handkerchief.
Patsy wiped her eyes and Mrs Busby came back into focus. The taller woman had to blink twice to believe what she was seeing. The corners of Enid's mouth were curling slightly into... was that a smile?
"You remember what I said to her, in that coffee house?" Enid finally found her voice.
Patsy frowned in confusion.
"You're a grown woman, Delia. Just don't do anything to make your dad cry." She sniffed loudly and pulled another handkerchief from her sleeve, blowing on it hard.
"I remember, yes." Patsy said.
"I also told her another time that I knew what was best for her, nobody else." Enid worried on the corner of her tissue.
Patsy's jaw set. She had not heard Mrs Busby utter this particular phrase but it was not beyond the realm of her imagination.
"Perhaps you could forgive a mother... for eating her own words?"
All the fight had disappeared from Enid's face. The tension in the room broke with those last five words. It was clear Mrs Busby was a lady of few sentences. A long heartfelt apology was probably not on the cards so as far as she was concerned, this admission of guilt was quite the u-turn. Patsy decided to accept it without pushing for more. It was a start. And that was better than nothing.
"I could, yes," Patsy replied.
"Delia is a grown woman. And if she chooses you, then, well... I must trust her judgement." Enid said rather robotically.
"Thank you, Mrs Busby." Patsy bowed her head.
"But if you hurt her - if any more harm comes to her whilst you're there..." Enid said warningly.
Patsy sat a little straighter in her chair. It had sounded very much like a threat, but she knew Mrs Busby was just scared. Scared about her daughter's health and wellbeing. Part of her wanted to let rip about how she would not be threatened into doing anything for this woman, but she decided against breaking their fragile truce.
"I will keep her safe." Patsy said with finality. "I promise."
Enid held her gaze for a long while before nodding curtly, seemingly satisfied.
As if waiting for his cue, Huw appeared with the tea tray. Patsy wondered if he'd been hovering outside, anticipating a break in conversation. Either way she was more than glad for the distraction. It signaled the end of the exchange between her and Delia's mother.
"Tea, Patsy?" He asked happily.
Patsy stood and shook her head. "No thank you, I should be getting back. Delia's not feeling too well and I said I'd check in on her later."
Mrs Busby's eyes shot up instantly. "Is she alright?"
Patsy smiled what she hoped was a convincing not-to-worry smile. "She's fine. Just feeling a little under the weather is all."
"You should never have let her walk home in the rain the other night, Huw!" Enid snapped in the direction of Mr Busby.
Patsy decided to leave before she lost her cool. "Thank you for your hospitality Mr and Mrs Busby. Perhaps I can convince Delia to drop by before we leave for London again."
Huw beamed, "If you could bach, that would be lovely - only if she's feeling up for it that is," he added quickly.
Patsy walked briskly back to their little cottage, the adrenaline pumping hotly through her veins after what had just transpired.
The one thing she could not stop running over in her head was why Delia hadn't told her about her brothers. She felt a little hurt that the brunette had not trusted her enough to let her in. Especially when she might have been able to help - in particular empathising with the loss of a sibling. And after all she had told the brunette about her past, why had Delia held out on her? The confusion mulled around in her brain as she hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes on automatic pilot.
A sound from the upstairs bathroom brought her back to reality. Frowning she ascended the stairs in search for the small Welshwoman.
The door of the upstairs bathroom was open a tiny crack, light spilling through and onto the landing carpet. Patsy opened the door a little further before quickly hurrying into the room.
Delia was knelt by the toilet, her face white. It was clear she had just been sick. Patsy rushed to her side and closed the lid of the toilet, flushing away the waste.
"Oh Deels," she murmured, putting the back of her hand to the smaller woman's forehead.
It didn't feel particularly hot so that was a good thing.
"Do you think you're going to be sick again?" she asked softly, rubbing comforting circles on Delia's lower back.
The brunette shook her head and shivered slightly. "M'alright now."
"Okay, let's get you back to bed shall we?"
Delia got to her feet shakily and with Patsy's help managed to return to their shared bedroom. The redhead tucked her up into bed, searching for the hot water bottle that had now found its way behind the headboard.
"I'll go refill this for you and get some water."
"Thanks Pats." Delia sounded utterly exhausted.
As quickly as she could Patsy completed her tasks before setting up a chair at Delia's bedside.
"M'sorry." Delia muttered.
"Shh. It's alright. It's not your fault." Patsy offered sympathetically.
Delia closed her eyes, a deep frown presenting on her forehead.
Patsy searched for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. The smaller woman was clearly in a great deal of pain. Perhaps that was why she had been sick. The redhead worried at her bottom lip. Something about this didn't feel right. The nurse inside her was convinced there was more to this than just menstrual cramps. Besides, they should never be that bad, what Delia was experiencing wasn't normal by any standards.
"I'm going to get you some more painkillers." Patsy whispered, before moving towards the dresser.
The little label on the packet of pills Dr Turner had prescribed Delia read 'Two to be taken in the morning and at night'. It was early afternoon she noted, glancing at her watch. Surely she could take the evening dose now. Reaching for a clean glass and some water Patsy made her way back over to Delia's side.
"Here, take these."
Delia took them without questioning.
"I'm sorry Pats, I don't know if I'm going to be able to travel tomorrow," said Delia quietly.
Patsy stroked her forehead gently. "Shh. It's alright, we'll work something out. Just get some rest alright? I'll check up on you a little later, see if you can handle some dinner."
Delia nodded and closed her eyes.
The travelling would be a problem. The owner of the little flat was due back tomorrow evening. She hoped Delia would be feeling better the next morning, but if she didn't they'd have to think of a plan B. Right now though, Delia's health was of more pressing concern. Patsy went straight to the downstairs telephone and riffled through the phonebook on the stand. She found the number for the local doctor's surgery along with their opening hours. It being a Saturday, Patsy saw the next time it was open was 7:00am on Monday morning. She groaned in frustration and slammed the book shut. Her fingers drummed on the table as she began to think quickly. Picking up the receiver she dialed the familiar number for the London switchboard.
Eventually she was connected.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Shelagh? It's Patsy here."
"Oh, hello Patsy! I hope Wales is treating you well - Nurse Crane told me all about your adventure."
"Thank you, it's been wonderful. I was wondering if Doctor Tuner is around? I need his advice."
"Of course, I'll just go and get him for you."
"Thank you." Patsy breathed a sigh of relief.