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At 25 Patsy found she was still discovering new things about herself, due in large part to one Delia Busby.
For one, Patsy found she rather enjoyed hugs, in particular ones from the younger nurse in training. Even before the war Patsy had been reserved and selective with her affection unlike other young girls. But now when Delia’s surprisingly strong arms wrap around her shoulders or waist, Patsy felt herself melt into the always too brief embrace.
With Delia’s help Patsy also discovered the true joy having a best friend. Patsy had had her fair share of acquaintances throughout her school years but never anyone who was able to see through her façade. Thankfully so, Patsy told herself, especially after she discovered her attraction to the fairer sex (thanks to another beautiful brunette, an older student at boarding school – Imogen).
Now with Delia in her life, Patsy understood why her classmates made such a fuss over who their best friends were. For the first time since the war Patsy had someone who supported her unconditionally, someone who would be brutally honest about outfit choices, someone who took the time to really listen and care, someone who finally had the patience to chip away Patsy’s emotional walls, someone who was beginning to see the real Patsy.
But she still worried. Delia coming into her life had changed her in so many ways; she was more sociable, more compassionate, but she still worried.
Patsy knew she was falling in love with the charming Welshwoman and if she was honest with herself she had been attracted to her since the moment they met during first term. Patsy wasn’t all too worried about her feelings; she knew she couldn’t change them even if she wanted to. No what Patsy constantly worried about was that Delia – beautiful, beguiling, brilliant Delia may actually like her back.
Growing up as a reserved child, Patsy quickly learned how to observe and read people with ease. Over the course of their friendship she had picked up on tiny indicators that Delia was like her, that is disinterested in the opposite sex and just a little bit more keenly interested in their own.
These little hints included the Welshwoman’s obvious and ceaseless distain for the chauvinistic doctors on staff. Patsy swore she could listen to the impassioned woman rail against men, with their roaming hands and lewd passes, for hours. Watching with rapt attention as Delia paced the room and threw her hands around to emphasis her points.
Then there were Delia’s loose limbs. Whether on shift, at the nurses’ house, or out on the town Delia was. Always. Touching. Her. They started as simply brief brushes, grazes really, and were almost always followed with a quick apology. But more recently the touches (across Patsy’s hand, back, arm, and on rare occasions her backside) were only followed with a blush, a downward gaze, and a slightly bitten lip.
Beyond these observations, Patsy also noted that Delia expressed no desire to settle down and get married. During the entirety of their friendship Delia had only mention dating once and it was in reference to a presumptuous young doctor who attempted to ask her out before finding his hand uncomfortably twisted.
At times it seemed to Patsy that she and Delia were the only trainees who shared a firm commitment to their work. As the program progressed, the young women found that they were often the only two trainees who stayed behind on nights off, as other nurses left for dates or dances.
Patsy relished and despised those nights. On those nights they explored London, went to different art-house films Delia read about, or simply shared contraband drinks over a record. Patsy liked those nights the best, but she constantly worried about them as well because on those evenings she discovered she quickly turned into a romantic fool.
And as such she lost all sense of how she should act responsibly while alone with Delia and not let any suggestion of her true emotions show.
Instead, romantic Patsy spent an extra thirty minutes making sure her hair and makeup were just right before any evening out with Delia by her side.
Romantic Patsy “spontaneously” bought daffodils on what just happened to be St. David’s day.
Romantic Patsy did anything to see Delia smile that special smile that she liked to believe was meant only for her.
Romantic Patsy went to weird art house films just for 90 minutes of secretly watching Delia instead of the film.
Romantic Patsy even so far as to foolishly agree to give Delia formal dance lessons.
Which was why Patsy found herself now pacing the length of her room. She was wearing the closest thing she had to men’s formal wear – black tailored and tapered slacks, a red blouse (tucked in), and oxford flats – anxiously waiting for Delia to arrive for their first “dancing lesson.”
Despite shucking off most of her social class’s expectations, Patsy appreciated being taught how to dance starting from a young age and at an all girls school, so she was adept at leading. Patsy loved a good dance but those were few and far between when the only viable partners were either oafish doctors or eager strangers at the dance hall. So when Delia found out Patsy could dance and insisted she teach her how to Waltz, Patsy was immediately thrilled and terrified. Of course she had said yes, how could she say no to those ocean blue eyes and slightly pouted lips.
Now here she was, dressed to the nines with her slower records at the ready, waiting anxiously for what felt an awful lot like a first date. Neither woman had said or suggested anything of that sort after they had set the dancing lesson but the intimate atmosphere of the evening and their plans made Patsy’s romantic mind wander.
A short knock on her door stirred her from her musings. The moment Delia opened the door Patsy realized her silly daydreams could never prepare her for reality.
Delia’s long hair hung loose around her shoulders. She was clad in a form fitting violet dress, one that showed off her chest and curves more than any outfit Patsy had seen. She finished off the outfit with a pair of kitten heels that put her at the perfect height for their lesson, the perfect height to lean down to kiss Patsy mused.
Gathering her wits and attempting to keep her feelings at bay, Patsy unconsciously fussed with her shirt and near perfect hair.
"Wow... You-you look radiant." Bugger you blew it already, Patsy mentally kicked herself for her poor attempt at not blurting out her love for the younger woman.
“You don’t look too bad yourself Pats. I forgot to ask what I should wear so I went as formal as I could manage. It’s nice to see we’re on the same page.”
Patsy felt the Welshwoman's gaze slowly scan her up and all the way down again, stopping at the redhead's painted lips and her silk covered chest for a moment longer than normal.
"Welcome to the Patience School of Dance." Patsy waved her arm as if to show off the small, familiar room. Hearing Delia's laughter Patsy couldn't help but smile proudly for being its cause.
"I assume that makes you Patience?" Delia played along perfectly, reaching out a hand for Patsy to shake.
Taking a risk, Patsy took the offered hand and brought it up to her lips, daring a quick kiss along the back of Delia’s knuckles. "Yes, but since I am your personal instructor you may call me Patsy." Looking down at the now flushed woman through her lashes, Patsy swore she saw Delia’s breath catch at the gesture.
"Okay, Patsy it is," Delia whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Where do we start?”
Delia hadn’t let go of her hand yet and it was extremely distracting. Pull yourself together Patience how are you going to make it through dancing if you can’t handle holding her hand?
“You wanted to learn the Waltz yes?” Patsy managed to cough out, gently dropping Delia’s hand to run a her own through her loose, lacquer-free hair.
“Mmhmm, despite my mam’s badgering I never picked it up in school. Plus the boys in my village only knew how to sway back and forth and they couldn’t even manage that without bruising toes.” Delia shuddered at the memory.
“What made you want to learn now? Planning on dancing with someone special Busby?” Patsy asked, biting her cheek at the thought of Delia wrapped closely in someone else’s arms.
“You could say that…”
“In any case it’s a good skill to have in your repertoire, should the right person present themselves.” Patsy chose to ignore the likely possibility the “right person” for Delia wasn’t her. In order to make it through what was already set to be a torturous evening, Patsy hid behind her “teacher” role.
“So instructor Patsy,” Delia giggled, “how do we start?”
Patsy turned around and put the needle down on the Dinah Washington album she picked out special for the occassion.
“Hand placement is a good place to begin. Step in just a touch closer.” Delia took a much larger step than Patsy expected, leaving their bodies only inches apart.
“Is this alright?” Delia asked, looking up through her dark lashes.
“Erm…” Patsy cleared her throat. “Yes- yes that’s perfect. Now since you are the follower, you’ll place your right hand up here on my shoulder.”
Almost instantly Patsy felt Delia’s warm hand against her shoulder blade. It closer to the back of her neck than was proper but Patsy couldn’t care less.
“Then you’ll grasp your lead’s hand like so.” Patsy reached for Delia’s free hand, “Or like this…” Patsy moved weave their fingers together, “which ever you prefer really, you don’t have to let your lead decide.”
“I think I like it like this.” Delia husked out.
“And your lead’s other hand goes ‘round to rest against your back, like so.” Patsy shakily placed her hand on Delia’s upper back, feeling the warmth radiating from beneath her dress. “Now you’re ready to start moving.”
“Oh you mean we don’t just stay like this?” Delia cheekily laughed at her own joke.
“Would you like to learn or not Busby?” Patsy asked with a tone of mock-seriousness.
“Of course Pats! I was just offering to stay like this to save your poor toes, I’m not sure they’ll make it through the evening. I may know how to climb a tree but I can’t speak to my dancing ability.”
“Don’t fret. I’ve padded my shoes.” Patsy winked.
“Well then! That shows what little confidence you have in me, I'm going to prove you wrong, Patience."
“If you say so Busby. You’ll be following my lead meaning when I step forward you step back or when I step to the side you mirror my steps.”
“That doesn’t sound too difficult. Let’s give it a try.”
~
As it turned out, following Patsy’s lead was more difficult than Delia had anticipated.
Over the course of nearly an entire record the pair had only managed a handful of complete square sets without Delia tripping up or stepping on Patsy’s feet.
Stopping mid-turn, Delia huffed, defeated “Pats, I don’t think I was meant to be a dancer.”
"Don’t worry Delia. I didn’t expect you to get it on the first try, I know I didn’t when I first started.” Patsy smiled kindly at the disheartened woman. “How about we try a few more times, hmm?”
Delia shook her head in defeat, making Patsy’s heart ache.
Upon hearing the first chords to her favorite tune, Patsy gathered her courage and took a step closer to the downtrodden brunette. “Here, this may help.” Patsy slowly moved her hand to the small of Delia’s back, pressing their bodies together. “And if you adjust your hand…”
Instinctively, Delia moved her hand to the nape of Patsy’s neck, lightly brushing her thump across the bare skin she found above the stiff collar.
“Perfect.” Patsy practically sighed. Other than the occasional hug, this was the closet the women had ever been and it was doing dangerous things to the redhead’s concentration. “Now just focus on the music, don’t mind your feet they’ll catch up.”
Delia nodded and inched closer to the taller woman, resting her head gently against Patsy’s shoulder. “I’m ready.”
The combination of Delia’s breath against her neck and warm body pressed flush against her sent Patsy’s mind reeling. Taking a deep breath, Patsy began to slowly move to the familiar rhythm, letting the soulful sound of Dinah Washington slow her elevated heart rate.
Did you say, I've got a lot to learn
Well don't think I'm trying not to learn
Since this is the perfect spot to learn
Teach me tonight
Dancing slowly around the room Patsy reflected on how perfectly suited this song was for their relationship. While Patsy was teaching Delia how to dance that night, throughout their friendship Delia had really been the teacher. Slowly, patiently teaching this closed-off and wounded woman how to love, how to love herself and how to fall in love. If this was all they were going to share, this close friendship and nothing more, Patsy reasoned she would be okay, because she finally knew love.
Starting with the ABC of it
Getting right down to the XYZ of it
Help me solve the mystery of it
Teach me tonight
The sky's a blackboard high above you
If a shooting star goes by
I'll use that star to write "I love you"
A thousand times across the sky
Halfway through the song and Delia had yet to make a mistake. Delia took notice, smiling slightly against Patsy’s shoulder.
One thing isn't very clear, my love
Should the teacher stand so near, my love
Graduation's almost here, my love
Teach me tonight
I'll use that star to write "I love you"
A thousand times across the sky
One thing isn't very clear, my love
Should the teacher stand so near, my love
At “I love you” Patsy felt a slight hitch in Delia’s breath and she slowed her pace to gently sway, holding the woman in her arms tight.
Graduation's almost here, my love
Teach me, please teach me
Teach me tonight
Dinah Washington’s soulful plea ended the track but neither woman moved to change the record, both content to sway to the rhythmic slid-n-pop of the offset needle.
Delia was the first to speak up, breaking the trace Patsy had slipped into during their dance. “Who knew I would have two left feet?” Delia chuckled to herself, the vibrations spreading across Patsy’s shoulder and chest. “Your poor toes Cariad, I’m so sorry.”
Patsy stopped. “Delia… What does Cariad mean?” She had heard several other choice Welsh words from the younger woman (particularly during bedpan duty) but Patsy had never heard that one. Although she had an idea about what it might mean, or at least what its implication was, she didn’t want to have false hope.
But then Delia’s only reply was “Hmm – What Pats?” and when Patsy looked down she caught Delia biting her lip while staring, unabashedly at Patsy’s mouth. And Patsy’s false hope turned back into real hope; friends don’t normally stare at the other’s lips, nor do they continue holding each other after a song had long since ended.
“Delia…” Patsy softly repeated, closing whatever gap was left between them. “What does Cariad mean?”
At last Delia looked up and the dark, stormy blues that greeted Patsy took her breath away and all but confirmed her feelings.
Blushing slightly, Delia finally answered, “It’s a – it’s a term of affection.”
“Oh.”
“Mmhm…” Delia’s eyes slowly drifted back down to Patsy’s painted lips.
“Delia?” Patsy leaned in slightly, asking silent permission to the unspoken question lingering in the air between them.
“Yes, Patsy.” Patsy felt Delia’s breathing change; it was slower, deeper almost.
Taking a moment to enjoy the dreamlike tension in the air, Patsy scanned Delia’s wide-eyed and beautiful face. Cautiously, she lifted her hand up to push Delia’s hair over her shoulder before caressing the brunette’s neck and stroking her jawline.
“Patsy…” Delia mewled, shutting her eyes at the contact.
Unable to take it any longer, Patsy covered Delia’s full lips with her own. Winding her hand into Delia’s locks Patsy slowly kissed the woman, in awe that what she had hoped and dreamed for was actually happening.
However, when Delia’s tongue slipped through the seam of her lips she lost all sense of rational thought, surrendering herself to the sensation of warm lips, firm hands, and smooth skin.
After several minutes Delia wrapped her arms tightly around her neck, tossing Patsy slightly off balance. Steading herself against the wall she found behind her back, Patsy broke their hurried kissing for a moment, resting her forehead against the brunette’s.
“Delia? What does Cariad really mean?” Patsy gently implored, playing with Delia’s hair and lightly stroking the small of her back.
“You really are a persistent one Pats, if you want to know so badly I suggest you take up Welsh.” There was no bite in her tone, only a relaxed flirtatiousness. Delia eventually caved when met with Patsy’s puppy dog eyes and pouting lip. “It means love, you fool.”
“Oh.” Patsy was positive she had the dopiest lovesick grin but she couldn’t be bothered. “If you’ll indulge one more question, why did you ask me to teach you how to dance?”
“I really did and do want to learn, but selfishly I also wanted to know what it felt like to be held by you, even if it was only as friends. I was almost certain you had feelings for me; I mean the daffodils on St David’s day couldn’t have been an accident?” They both laughed at how foolishly obvious Patsy had been this whole time.
“And how did it feel then?”
“Like home, like a place I never wanted to leave.”
“Delia… there’s so much I want to ask you. When did you know, how did you know, what do we do now?”
“There will be plenty of time for that later Cariad,” Delia sighed, content. “Let’s have more dance hmm?”
Patsy agreed with only a slight nod, fixing the record before embracing the brunette once again. They could ask the questions and figure out what this meant another time. Tonight they would dance and kiss and laugh, unaware of the world outside the “Patience School of Dance.”