Barbara made polite apologies for Trixie's presence; "she simply insisted on tagging along!" Trixie attempted a polite smile, but a grimace adorned her face. Don't embarrass me in front of the pretty lesbian, thought Trixie, through gritted teeth. Lara was officially the most exotic creature she had ever 'met.' She imagined her as an accessory on her arm at parties. Lara would be an excellent conversation starter, as would Trixie's selfless acceptance.
Trixie contemplated her thoughts, it's distinct parallel to her reaction toward poor Patsy. Her smile faded. Acceptance, she concluded, was easy when there were no secrets, when it didn't involve your best friend... when it's all about you.
Lara had been comparatively polite in welcoming 'the third wheel.' "Well, the more the merrier!" she said, smiling at the women. Trixie matched Lara's acting abilities; she replaced her frown with an enthusiastic smile.
The three women sat hastened away in a corner of a French Deli. The seating was Barbara's idea, thankful for the relative privacy. She had practically run to secure the table. It was positioned so far removed from the front counter, and indeed other patrons, that Trixie wondered whether she would have to order via telegram.
"Well," said Trixie, "why would I want the rustic beauty of provincial France, when I could have the back alley of provincial Poplar?" Lara laughed;Trixie racked her brain for further humorous anecdotes. But then she saw the adoring way Lara looked at Barbara as she tried to find the source of their wobbling table. And so Trixie thought better of voicing her wit; it would all be at Barbara's expense after all.
Barbara attempted to mask her annoyance at Trixie's comment. Don't embarrass me in front of the pretty lesbian, she thought, as she feigned an intense interest in the symmetry of furniture. She concluded that the table wobble was due to an uneven floor, and, Lara concluded that she approved of Barbara's plaid shirt; it matched her 'handy around the home' attitude.
Barbara dove under the table, thankful for the respite. Trixie physically bit her tongue, I will not make any jokes about Barbara being under the table... Barbara placed a napkin under a table leg to better secure it in place. "There, that should do the trick," she said. She rose to meet her seat... and hit her head on the table. The thump of her head caused the table to jump and cutlery to spill on the floor.
"Oh my gosh, Barbara, are you alright?" asked Lara. She assisted the brunette in collecting the cutlery.
"I'm fine, just a clutz I'm afraid."
"Well it's adorable."
Barbara giggled for longer than necessary. She sat down and busied herself with the menu. "Ooh, soup of the day- cream of asparagus. That sounds nice."
Barbara hated asparagus.
With Barbara's face hidden by the menu, Lara contemplated Trixie's presence. "You're the woman from last night..." It was a statement, not a question, but Trixie confirmed it with unbridled enthusiasm nonetheless. "Yes, that was me!" she exclaimed.
"So, did you tell her how you feel?"
"Sorry?"
"The girl you were upset about; she was seeing someone behind your back?"
"Oh... Patsy," sighed Trixie. "It didn't turn out as planned."
"I'm sorry," said Lara, her forehead creased in sympathy. "This is going to be most unhelpful but I'll persist nonetheless." She placed a hand on the table for emphasis. "A beautiful woman like you should have no problem finding another girl." Lara blushed at her own forwardness, though not as deeply as Trixie and Barbara. Trixie had blushed from the compliment, Barbara from mortification of having to break the news. To the approaching waiter, the three women looked as though they had just returned from a sunburnt fortnight in the Spanish Islands.
Table water was accepted in a fit of nervous shifting and giggles.
"Gosh, I sound like my best friend," exclaimed Lara, breaking the silence that followed. "A beautiful girl like you Lara... There's plenty more fish in the sea! Completely unhelpful when you want to drown in it, of course!"
Barbara thought drowning sounded like a most excellent idea. She had read that drowning was quite a peaceful death. It would mark a blessed contrast to the terror she was currently experiencing.
Barbara offered Lara her menu. Once Lara was distracted by it's contents, Trixie nudged Barbara's side. 'Tell her!' she mouthed.
"Tell her what?" asked Lara, perusing the two women from the top of her menu.
Barbara sighed. "You're going to think me rather horrible."
"I'm sure I'm not capable of such a thing."
The words caused Barbara's blush to return. This would be so much easier if Lara were a horrendous human-being, she thought. Though she doubted they would be meeting for lunch if she were.
Patsy's shift had not improved. Not only was she behind in appointments, but a mother had managed to berate her for offering a slightly tainted bottle.
Phyllis had found this particularly concerning, considering the tall midwife's exemplary hygienic practices. Phyllis cornered Patsy into an empty examining space.
"What on earth has gotten into you, Ms Mount?"
Phyllis had meant it as a gesture of concern, of a genuine will to dull whatever was troubling the red-head. But given the stress of the day, or perhaps the older Midwife's gruff manner, it came off harsh and accusatory.
"I apologise Nurse Crane," said Patsy, backing herself into a corner. "I'm just a little flustered today."
Phyllis approached her. She sniffed the proximate air for remnants of alcohol. Nothing. "Are you sure everything is okay?" she asked, her manner far more maternal.
Patsy smiled but couldn't extinguish the sadness curling at the edges. "Everything is fine, thankyou Phyllis... Nurse Crane." The words had strained from her mouth, as if they were aching with the same pain she felt throughout her body. She turned away, embarrassed at the emotion escaping from her.
"My dear girl, whatever is the matter?"
"It's nothing," said Patsy, side-stepping the concerned older woman. "We best catch up on our work."
"So you see," said Barbara, "this has all been a horrible mistake." She registered the pained look on Lara's face.
"Well not horrible, not this part anyway. This has been rather lovely. And, if I'm honest, I really could use a new friend. One who isn't a Nurse." Barbara's tone heightened at the end, as if she was asking Lara for her hand in friendship.
"Oh none taken, I'm sure," remarked Trixie. It caused Lara to smirk slightly, as much as she willed her expression toward ambivalence.
"So the brunette you left with?"
"Delia - Patsy's girlfriend," said Barbara.
"Well," sighed Lara, "I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. You're exactly my type I'm afraid, right down to breaking my heart." Lara laughed but ceased upon seeing Barbara's crestfallen face. "It's okay Barbara, I wasn't even sure this was a date. I hoped of course, but... it seems as though we are both here as friends, and that sounds splendid." She smiled at the two women. "Now, shall we order?"
Lara was thankful for the distraction as the waiter approached; it would help her mask her discontent for a few moments more.
Though Lara and Barbara had ordered with relative ease, Trixie couldn't reach a decision. She was far too focused on why she was not Lara's type. Trixie decided that there was no accounting for taste, and also on French Onion Soup.
"So Lara, you were saying you had a type... when did you first realise that you had this particular type?" asked Trixie.
Subtle, thought Barbara.
"Are you asking when did I first become interested in adorable brunettes- or when did I first become interested in women?"
Trixie stuttered, taken aback by Lara's forwardness (she was also relieved that it was simply Barbara's hair colour that saw her favoured over the blonde).
"Um, ah... the women part."
Barbara played with her napkin, feigning disinterest.
"I always knew, I guess. When my fellow school chums started taking an interest in boys... I started taking an interest in my fellow school chums. You can imagine how terrified I was!"
"Of being found out?" asked Trixie, her breath catching.
"Yes. Of getting caught. Of falling in love. Of not falling in love. Ever. You see girls like me, we are only a minute part of the population. So, it's extraordinarily lucky when you find another woman who has also taken the courage to be herself, in this day and age. Much less have that woman be someone you're attracted to." Lara played with her cutlery, not daring to look at Barbara. "So when you do find it, well, it's like... finding the end of a rainbow."
Lara smiled at the two women. "Patsy and Delia - they're incredibly lucky to have found each other. Brave and lucky."
The meals arrived but Trixie couldn't bring herself to eat it. Barbara too, preferred to play with her food. "Um, what is it" she said, staring at the food before her, "about women that you like?"
Lara shrugged, her face grew red with embarrassment. "I don't know, they're soft, pretty, kind... there's no macho showmanship." She contemplated for a moment, her embarrassment fading. "I guess I really feel like an equal when I'm with a woman. I'm not expected to pop out a million kids, give up my career, have dinner on the table by six..." She nodded, then paused. "But it's hard too, of course. The sacrifices, the judgement... fear."
"You're afraid?" asked Trixie, alarmed.
"Every day. First you're afraid of having to live a lie, next you're afraid of coming out, then you're afraid of the consequences once you do."
"Consequences?" asked Trixie. "Like your friends wouldn't want to be friends anymore?"
"Oh that's the least that could happen. If my parents found out, I'd be disowned. If my boss found out, I'd be fired."
Trixie swallowed the rising sensation in her throat.
"Surely you can't lose your job over something so private?" asked Barbara.
"I'm a School Teacher, they would see it as a threat to young, impressionable minds. Patsy and Delia, of course, could lose theirs."
Trixie braced herself against the table, her breathing shallow and deep.
"Are you alright, Trixie?"
"Yes, sweetie. I just suddenly feel unwell."
Barbara eyed her with a strange concoction of sympathy and suspicion.
"Lara, if a friend didn't react well to your news, perhaps you thought she would, but in that moment she panicked and said something she regrets, would you forgive her?" Barbara looked to Trixie, hoping the answer would relieve whatever was troubling her.
"I think I would yes. I may be a little different to others in some respects, but I'm also a lot like everyone else. I say things I regret. I forgive things I can."
Trixie forced a smile out of politeness. "Thank you Lara, you've been most helpful. But I'm afraid I have to attend the rest of my shift. Enjoy the film." It was a blunt farewell, but polite. Trixie put some money on the table, sprung from her chair, and took the long walk to the deli's entrance.
Left alone with Lara, Barbara felt even more self-conscious than usual. She patted down her shirt, "I don't usually wear plaid, it was Trixie's idea."
"How are you feeling Mr Chisolm?" Delia asked, in the hope that the elderly man's medication had taken effect.
"Fine, fine. Still not yourself, I see?" He eyed Delia suspiciously.
"Not quite, Mr Chisolm. It's just one of those days where you have to see it through, I'm afraid."
"Yes... any idea who or what has taken over your body? Aliens is still my bet."
Aliens? Taking over bodies? His medication had not taken effect, surely. But then she remembered their earlier conversation. "What have you done with my lovely, cheerful Ms Busby?" - "I'm rather afraid an imposter has taken over her body"...
"No, not an alien, Mr Chisolm. Plain old life is scary enough, it seems."
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
Delia shouldn't have looked at him. His expression was bare, remorseful, full of sympathy. She swallowed the affirmative words rising up in her throat. "I'm not sure what you mean," said Delia, but her expression failed her.
"My dear girl..." Mr Chisolm patted the spare space on his bed, motioning the brunette forward. She shook her head and crossed her arms, as if restricting her body could restrict any tears from escaping.
"It's nothing, I should go, I have other patients to see."
Mr Chisolm reached for her hand. "There is an old German proverb - 'fear makes the wolf appear bigger than he is.'"
Delia pried herself loose from his hand and sought solace in the bathroom. She took in Mr Chisolm's words - 'Fear makes the wolf appear bigger than he is.' She contemplated for a moment. She had thought the battle insurmountable; her Patsy would surely be pulled from her grasp... but only if she let it. Only if she didn't pull back.
Delia dissected the proverb. The wolf was surely Sister Julienne, she surmised. And her bite? The loss of Patsy's job, her residence at Nonnatus. But what had given her this power? It wasn't as if a single anonymous report, an unsubstantiated rumour, amounted to a house of straw...
An idea struck Delia. The accusation against Patsy was already weak, but she could weaken it further - take all the air out of it's lungs, so to speak. All she had to do was find this 'anonymous tipper' and convince them they were mistaken. Convince them to lie.
Anonymous tippers should be easy to find, she thought, when they are hiding in plain sight.
Patsy volunteered to take inventory of the clinic supplies. It would bring some order to her muddled brain, she concluded. She needed a clear head to formulate a response to the accusations. Her mind was currently a mismatch of angry parents, medical terminology and Delia's frightened words - "everything you've worked for, your home... here with me.' If counting sheep had worked to sleep, counting supplies should surely work to think.
It hadn't.
Every so often, when in between patients, or during a particularly routine appointment, Phyllis would glance over to Patsy. Taking stock of Patsy taking stock, as it were. Patsy, it seemed, was merely mimicking the counting of supplies. She simply moved a bottle of medicine from one side of the counter to the other. Then the next bottle and the bottle after that... Though Patsy's arms kept moving, she did not appear to write anything down. Instead, she stared into space.
Just give a blanket denial, thought Patsy, it would be your word against theirs.
"It seems there are no patients booked for the rest of the afternoon," said Phyllis as she approached the counter. "I can handle the patients we have left, why don't you head off a little early?"
"Sorry?" asked Patsy, startled by Phyllis' sudden presence.
"You can leave early, Ms Mount. I can handle it from here."
"No, that won't be necessary, Nurse Crane. As you can see, I'm in the middle of inventory and I rather intend to finish it." It was an aloof response to the older Midwife's act of kindness, but Patsy could barely muster the pretence of coping, let alone pleasantries.
Phyllis looked at the inventory ledger. A few careless strikes adorned the mostly blank page. "I think it will be necessary, Ms Mount," said Phyllis. She gently pulled the ledger away from Patsy's weakened grasp.
As Patsy let go of the ledger, so with it went her façade. A tidal of sorrow swept over her face.
"I'm a good nurse," said Patsy, her voice broken.
Phyllis was taken aback, she had never seen a trace of vulnerability in the tall woman. Phyllis had always thought that Patsy could weather the fiercest of storms; had admired her for it. But the Patsy before her was weathered, beaten.
"My dear," Phyllis placed a hand over Patsy's, "I never said you weren't..."
"I'm a good person," whispered Patsy. Tears welled in her eyes.
"I know," said Phyllis. Her eyes grew grey, saddened by Patsy's need to reassure herself. "I think maybe, if you told me what's troubling you, I could assist?"
"No," Patsy shook her head adamantly. "I can't..."
Phyllis' could see the fear in Patsy's eyes; her heart sank. She stepped toward the shaking woman. "What are you so afraid of?"
Patsy took a step back. Of everything, she thought. But what good was fear when Delia was relying on her to be strong? What good had fear been growing up without her mother?... without her father? Patsy closed her eyes. She knew what her father would say to her now, if he witnessed her in this state. She wiped the tears from her eyes and straightened her uniform. A sudden stoicism washed over her features. "Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid," she said.
Patsy took a bottle from one side of the counter, and placed it on the other. "Now, if you could just let me finish up, I'd be most appreciative."
Phyllis nodded her approval. She walked away from Patsy reluctantly, ledger in hand.