Patsy contemplated sleeping in the shed, but worried Fred would catch her in the early morning, nestled between a paint tin and the rake. The conclusion, then, could only be that Patsy had ended up there on some drunken misadventure and passed out. It would be her best option to cry in privacy, away from a judgemental roommate, but she couldn't risk the consequences.
And so, Patsy settled on the settee that was much too small for her elongated frame. She would have to stifle her sobs and pretend, when found by a curious Nun, that she was simply too exhausted to venture upstairs.
It was here that Delia found her; her body impossibly bended, head resting on a sofa cushion. Patsy had heard her coming, despite the Welsh woman's attempt at sneaking. She closed her eyes and mimicked the steady breathing of deep slumber.
Delia knelt beside the redhead. "Cariad?" she whispered into Patsy's ear. Patsy continued her steady breathing.
Delia stroked Patsy's cheek, "Cariad?"
Delia knew that Patsy was faking her slumber. The redhead, though sophisticated in practically every aspect of life, was not the picture of elegance in her sleep. Quite simply, she snored like a lorry driver after a day at the pub. The 'fake-sleeping method' was also a tell-tale sign that Patsy was angry. Given her tendency to avoid confrontation, Patsy would try to 'sleep' her way through any emotion that would creep beyond her control.
Delia's first witness to this came after an unexpected visit from her mother. Patsy and Delia were both nursing at the Male Surgical Ward at the time. After weeks of failing to have some time off together, they had set a date. A late night dinner at an Italian Restaurant that Delia had just been dying to try. And it was here that Patsy had waited, well beyond what was considered polite. It wasn't until the restaurant had dimmed their lights and waiters began stacking chairs, that Patsy knew for sure, that her kind, reliable girl had stood her up. Patsy had made her polite excuses to the wait staff, 'I must have mixed up the dates.' But she knew she hadn't, any opportunity of being alone with each other was engrained in each woman's memory. Patsy was angry and hurt. Part of her wanted to march into Delia's room and demand an apology, but the part that always won, wanted to avoid it; pretend it never happened. And so, when Delia crept into her room in the early hours of the morning, full of guilty kisses and excuses, Patsy had thought it best to lapse into a spontaneous coma. It had worked until Delia placed her hands in certain areas, delicately at first and then with greater intensity. It created a heated sensation that comatose patients, medically, should not feel. Patsy had involuntarily lunged forward with a gasp. Delia had declared herself a miracle worker.
And so, Delia knew that the best remedy for sudden unconsciousness started with a slow succession of kisses to the neck.
"Cariad?" Delia whispered, kissing softly, "sure you're asleep?"
Patsy remained still.
Delia smirked and placed more gentle kisses on Patsy's neck as her fingers slowly traced along her collarbone and crept under her shirt. Just as she cupped Patsy's breast, Delia licked the length of her neck. It caused Patsy to rise up, just as she anticipated. But instead of pulling Delia toward her, Patsy pushed her away. Delia fell back to the floor, her hands falling behind her. There was not sin in Patsy's eyes, but anger. She was about to unleash.
Patsy stood and cowered over the small brunette.
"Are you insane?" asked Patsy through gritted teeth. "What if someone had caught us?"
Delia sat on the floor, speechless. "I..." she stumbled.
"Jesus Delia, if you don't have any self-respect, at least have some for the residents of this house!"
The harshness of the words had shocked Delia. Stunned her so that instead of lashing out as she ordinarily would, she searched for the words to calm her girlfriend. Patsy could, would, apologise later, she thought.
"Pats, I didn't mean.."
"We are not even safe behind locked doors Delia! Hell not even in a club full of people"... Patsy scanned her surroundings, "like us" she hissed. "What on earth led you to believe you could do that in a shared living area?!" Though she had said the words in an abrasive whisper; the sentiment was deafening.
Delia had never seen Patsy so angry before, had certainly never heard such harsh words come from her mouth. Not directed at her at least.
Delia rose to her feet and approached Patsy. "I didn't think" she said. Delia placed her hand on Patsy's arm, "I..." Patsy brushed it away.
Delia didn't know what else to do but re-attempt some physical closeness. She stepped toward the taller woman again. But then, in the distance, she heard a door creep open. It stopped her from moving any further.
They froze and listened as steps walked the length of the passage way, up the stairs and into a bedroom. The door clicked. The two women let out a long awaited breath.
"Trixie" said Patsy. She sat down on the sofa and stared into space.
Delia sat beside her and placed a hand on Patsy's knee; the muscles stiffened in response. "I'm sorry", she whispered. "It was stupid, I wasn't thinking."
Delia looked to Patsy but she remained steady on the blackness before her.
"Well, actually I was thinking," said Delia. "I was thinking that whenever you pretend to be asleep you're either angry or hurt. Or both. And... I wanted to make you feel better."
"It's useless," said Patsy.
"Don't say that Pats... I'm sure after a good night's sleep..."
Patsy turned to her. "After a good night's sleep Trixie won't hate me? The entire world won't be against us?" Patsy whispered in harsh tones. She laughed suddenly, sharply, "Christ, I can't even talk about us without whispering!"
"Let's talk in my room then," said Delia, rising, motioning for Patsy to join her. She was grateful for the cloak of darkness that shrouded the room; it meant that Patsy could not see that her eyes were slowly dissolving.
"Grand idea," said Patsy, sarcastically. "I can whisper and be even more terrified in there. It's much less suspicious to be found in your room!"
Delia placed her hands on her hips, her mouth curling at the edge. "Patience Mount, if you do not follow me upstairs right now, I will give you good reason to be terrified!" Delia's voice broke, revealing her angered sorrow.
Patsy slumped her shoulders and followed a fast-walking Delia. Not because of the words, or because Delia's accent had become suddenly and distinctly more Welsh (as often occurred when she was upset), but because of the rising volume in Delia's voice. Their argument, she knew, could be just between the two of them, or between the two women and the whole of Nonnatus house.
When Delia was angry, she didn't care who knew. As Patsy walked the stairs, she recalled the time a male patient had pinched Delia's behind. In front of staff and fellow patients, Delia had ripped through him, using a combination of English and Welsh; the latter of which Patsy was sure contained various curse words. She had made a mental note to find out what 'basdun' meant.
Once safe in her room, Delia locked the door and turned on the lamp. She sat on the bed and watched as Patsy paced the room. It caused her shadow to dance in the artificial light.
"I assume Trixie didn't take it well?" asked Delia, concern on her face.
Patsy didn't respond.
"And that's why you were on the sofa?"
Nothing.
Delia sighed. She walked to her dresser and picked out a spare set of night clothes. Pyjamas she had bought especially for the nights she had hoped Patsy would visit, intending to be brief, but staying out of pure necessity to wake in each other's arms. It had never happened. Patsy would always creep off before Delia awoke, terrified of being caught.
"Here," she said, handing Patsy the pyjamas, "at least get out of those clothes."
Patsy held the pyjamas so limply that Delia did not let go for fear they'd fall on the floor. They stood, holding them until Patsy spoke, at last. "You abandoned me," she said.
"Sorry?" asked Delia.
"Tonight. You left me. To face it all on my own." Patsy let the tears fall down her face.
Delia took a step toward Patsy and cupped her face in her hands, letting the pyjamas fall. "Oh my beautiful girl, I thought you'd want me to get Barbara out of there. That you wouldn't want her to know. I'm so, so sorry."
Delia kissed the tears away from Patsy's cheek.
"I always thought I'd be alone" said Patsy, sucking in air, "with my mum and sister gone. And my father..." she paused, breathing out unsteadily. "In boarding school, when I realised the person I was becoming, well I knew then that the world would be against me. I was so terrified Delia."
Patsy stared into Delia's eyes, tears still falling. "But then I met you. And I thought, I don't care any more, the whole world could be against me. I could lose my job. My home. My friends. But at least I wouldn't be alone. I'd still have you."
Delia kissed Patsy's mouth, but it was a kiss not reciprocated. She looked to Patsy with worry.
"But tonight – all that I feared would happen - did. Or is about to. And you weren't there."
Delia's heart sank. "Patsy," she said, "you must believe that I was always with you. I am always with you." Delia tightened her grasp and steadied her eyes on the taller woman. "I honestly thought, that by taking Barbara and leaving, I was making things better." She paused. "But as we know from downstairs, my well-meaning efforts in making things better, doesn't always work."
The guilt plastered on Delia's face served as an apology for the abandonment. But it had also branded her further act of ill repute. She had told Barbara of Patsy's secret when it wasn't hers to tell. Her motive for abandonment was now redundant.
Seeing the hurt that consumed Patsy, Delia knew that now was not the time to confess. "I'm so sorry, Pats." It was a blanket apology for what Patsy knew now - and what she would soon know.
Patsy grabbed Delia and held her with the weight of all the fear that had consumed her. "Promise me you'll never leave. You're all I have."
"I'm not going anywhere," whispered Delia.
Delia held Patsy close until the last tear had fallen. Then she broke free from the embrace and led Patsy to the foot of the bed. She sat Patsy down and positioned herself beside her.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" asked Delia.
Patsy shook her head solemnly.
"You said that all that you feared would happen - is about to. Is Trixie going to tell?"
"I honestly don't know," said Patsy, sighing. "She made it clear that being what I am, I have no business being a midwife."
Delia sprung from the bed, her face red and her fists' clenched, "if you lose your job over her damn ignorance, I.."
Patsy met the brunette and placed her hands over Delia's clenched fists. "Now Deils, I don't want you to tear the house down. Okay?", her voice defeated.
"But your job, Pats. You've never wanted to be anything else. And to lose it over something so ridiculous... There are plenty of heterosexual women on Male Surgical – they're not losing their jobs over the pure enjoyment of seeing men's... willies!" she spat.
Patsy couldn't help but erupt in laughter. It's contagiousness causing Delia to cry into Patsy's shoulder.
"I do love you Delia," Patsy whispered in her ear, once the laughter had descended. "And I love you," said Delia, rising from Patsy's shoulder and kissing her lips. "We'll be okay," she promised.
Patsy smiled weakly, not quite believing it to be true. "And I'm sorry about... what happened downstairs," she said, her arms entwined with Delia's. Whilst the truth, it was more an attempt at avoiding any further speculation of their fate. Patsy was exhausted of reassuring herself. Using her heart before her head was not something in which she was accustomed.
"I know, it was the events of tonight talking. You're just lucky I didn't match it."
"Yes," agreed Patsy, "I imagine you'd call me a 'basdun?'"
Delia laughed. "How do you know that word?"
"I heard you say it to a patient once. What is it by the way?"
"A basdun is exactly what you were downstairs," said Delia, grinning.
"Oh," said Patsy, "it must mean dashing, or beautiful, or irresistible," said Patsy. She was now smiling - for the first time since she and Delia took their last, fateful dance. Though Delia could see that the smile was tinged with sadness.
"I didn't know you thought of dear Mr Wentworth that way," Delia squealed, remembering the event.
"Oh yes," said Patsy, edging closer to the brunette's lips, "I saw him and I thought for a moment that I'd been saved." Patsy grinned, the sadness slipping - just as Delia had hoped.
Delia pushed her away, laughing.
The two women watched each other until the laughter tapered. It was a brief moment of pure love and joy, just as their day had begun. But then Patsy noticed Delia's happiness slowly fade, her expression suddenly sombre. She took a step toward her.
"So what are we going to do?" asked Delia.
Patsy engulfed Delia in her arms. "That is a discussion for tomorrow," she said, avoiding speculation once more.
"But for now?" Patsy looked to Delia with a raised a eyebrow. Despite the danger, she was determined to forget, for just a moment, their impending fate.
"You're going to make me feel better," she whispered, as she led the brunette back to bed.