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New Year’s Eve 2018, Edinburgh, Scotland
Patsy and Delia had just returned home from a rather rambunctious ceilidh in the old town. Their feet ached from dancing but they were pleasantly tipsy and very much enjoying the spirit of their first ever Hogmanay.
When Strip the Willow had come to an end (at last) Patsy had pulled Delia aside and had suggested they go home to check on the newest addition to their family. Delia had agreed and had marched her beloved Nurse Mount back to Marchmont. On the way, they were bombarded with jolly (rather drunk) strangers offering them hugs and free drinks that they graciously turned down. Eventually the partygoers thinned and the two women walked arm in arm back to their street, hearing celebrations inside each building they passed. The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation and Delia was revelling in it. Patsy however was feeling more on edge than she had been in ages.
They bundled into their house which still surprised them in its spaciousness, only to be subject to a surprise ambush by Garbo, their black lab puppy. They had both been conscious about arriving late to the dance and leaving early, so he wouldn’t be alone for too long, not merely in case of accidents but because of the sporadic fireworks which were already popping and crackling loudly in the darkening sky. They tossed off their coats and scooped their small furry friend up for a joint cuddle, aware he would soon grow too big to allow for such affection. The joy was short-lived, however, as Delia twigged they’d forgotten to lock his crate before they went out. Garbo had gone on a mini rampage of their living room. He had apparently taken a particular liking to Delia’s new book (a cherished Christmas present from Patsy) and had set about it like it was his new favourite chew toy.
‘Garbo!’ Delia whined, picking up the tattered remnants of Always, Rachel, the collected letters between Rachel Carson and Dorothy Freeman.
‘We can get a new one, Deels, it’s okay.’ Patsy sighed, still holding the culprit in her arms. She was irritated, they should have been more careful. It was probably the excitement of their first new year’s ceilidh that had made them so forgetful. On the other hand she was also quite impressed that one tiny puppy had managed to destroy such a hefty hardback tome of a book.
Delia pouted and deposited what she considered the latest in the steadily growing line of literary casualties into the recycling bin. ‘Time of death,’ she glanced at the clock on the wall, ‘11:32pm.’
‘Not tactful, Deels, not tonight…’ Patsy trailed off, horrified that she had spoken aloud.
‘Oh Pats, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to –’ Delia stopped, stammering.
The redhead reinstated the shields she had put up to get through an evening of socialising as quickly as possible. ‘It’s quite all right. I’ll just take this little horror outside for a blast of fresh air before things get too loud. Maybe he’ll run off his energy and fall asleep before it gets too wild later.’
‘Are you sure?’ Delia was still mortified at her slip up.
‘Yes, love, it isn’t the actual day, I’m just jumpy.’
Delia looked thoughtful for a moment, but then smiled, her dimples showing. ‘I’ll get us a cuppa brewing – unless you want some Scotch?’
‘Tea would be lovely; diolch, darling. We’ll be right back, won’t we?’
Patsy padded out the door again, whispering and giggling delightedly when Garbo wagged his tail in response. Her lover watched her leave, marvelling at the way this woman could calm any sort of small thing, from babies to puppies.
But she knew that was bravado to hide the difficulty she had calming herself.
Delia sighed whilst she prepared the tea, watching Patsy from the kitchen window as she let Garbo run around the garden. What she wouldn’t do for that woman, she thought, adding an extra spoonful of sugar to Patsy’s mug.
Her happy thoughts were interrupted, quite literally, with a bang. A neighbouring garden had decided to let off some early fireworks – probably testing to see if they were working before the main midnight event. It had been raining and lighting anything was likely pretty difficult. But they’d succeeded. They also succeeded in making both Garbo and Patsy jump a mile into the air – the ensuing explosion of light and crackling illuminating the garden in an angry red glow.
She was unsure she had ever seen her wife move as fast as Patsy did at this point, scooping Garbo up and sprinting back indoors. When she was close enough again, she was sure her stoic sweetheart was shaking.
The older woman’s voice wobbled, despite the tail still wagging on the black bundle in her arms. ‘S-so early...’
Delia frowned and collected Garbo from Patsy’s shaking arms. ‘Stupid if you ask me, there should be a curfew on fireworks.’
She put the dog to bed again, making sure to shut the door properly this time. They would bring him out later, but for now they needed a moment to settle themselves, and he seemed happy to gnaw on a bone he’d previously started yesterday.
Dog dealt with, Delia returned to her partner, trying to provide comfort by passing over the tea she had recently poured. Patsy refused to take it, however. ‘I might spill,’ she said softly.
‘Why don’t we go sit down on the sofa?’ Delia suggested gently, ‘We can put on Jools Holland and cwtch.’
‘I don’t know, Deels.’ Patsy felt extremely awkward and apologetic. ‘I don’t think I’ll concentrate well enough. I might need to head for bed.’
‘We don’t have to pay attention to any of it, I was meaning for background noise. But I suppose no noise would be better wouldn’t it?’ Delia sighed.
‘I think this every year, but never do it – I should have bought some ear defenders...but it’s more the anticipation.’
‘You can try my noise cancelling headphones if you’d like… they don’t block out everything but they do a pretty decent job without crushing your skull like ear defenders do.’
‘I want to be able to hear you, though. Can’t we just surround ourselves with pillows or something?’
Delia’s eyes lit up. ‘You wait here and try and have your tea. Maybe take a nice warm bath too. I’ll be back in a jiffy,’ she made her way to the hallway and called back, ‘And don’t go into the living room okay?’
Patsy couldn’t be bothered with the effort of a bath, so she took advantage of Delia’s absence, letting Garbo out of his crate again and stroking him as she sat on the kitchen floor and slowly sipped her tea. He gazed at her lovingly, his big brown eyes empty of judgement and criticism. The only thing she could see behind them was pure unconditional love. No wonder Delia had been so keen to get a dog. Patsy had been hesitant at first, the practicalities of owning a pet were rather complicated, especially with them both working as hard as they did. But Delia insisted that they’d make time. Though she’d never admit it to her petite partner, Patsy often spent time alone with Garbo, enjoying his (mostly) silent affection. It calmed her to be with an animal who would listen to her ramblings without response. She felt an even stronger pull of affection to the little furry chap tonight, because he was also spooked by the fireworks. Another bang went off in the distance and Garbo jumped in Patsy’s arms, knocking her mug of tea across the floor. Fortunately the boiling water missed them both.
‘Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here,’ she soothed, stroking his head over and over until his little body stopped shaking. ‘We’re safe in here… we’re safe in here.’
In addition to the bangs outside there were also some rather strange noises coming from the living room and hallway. Patsy frowned - what on earth was her wife up to? Garbo was licking her hand happily, apparently now calm again. She felt it was safe enough to put him back into his crate. Now she assessed the damage the small pup had created earlier. She sighed and collected up her mug (a souvenir from that time they went on a safari in Botswana) which was fortunately still intact and wiped up the spilt tea with a dishcloth.
The kitchen restored to normality again, she leant against the countertop, her fingers thrumming an anxious rhythm on the granite surface. Her body was anticipating the next explosion and all her muscles were tense, especially in her back. It happened every year in this period, starting at Hallowe’en and ending with New Year. With any loud noise, she was taken right back there. To that morning in July 2005, when she’d lost her mother and sister. Part of her would always regret surviving that fateful trip from King’s Cross when they had not, because then she wouldn’t have lived the thirteen years since with such a strong sense of guilt.
But then she also wouldn’t have met Delia. And she couldn’t imagine a world where that was the case.
Just then the aforementioned Welshwoman called from the living room. ‘Pats! You can come through now!’
Patsy stared at Garbo for a moment, and he looked back with his big puppy eyes. She sighed and gave in, collecting him in her arms and taking him with her. Although she’d put in place a strict ‘no dogs in the living room’ rule, tonight was an exception, even for her. Especially for her. However, Patsy almost dropped Garbo the moment she set eyes on what Delia had done to their lounge.
The brunette was standing proudly next to their biggest sofa. Except it was unrecognisable as a sofa. She had used several brooms and other poles scavenged from the closet to erect a makeshift tent-like structure. There were blankets and cushions a plenty and she’d even used some clothes pegs to ensure everything was secure.
Delia lifted a corner of a blanket to reveal the interior of her creation. Inside there were several pillows and even the double duvet from their bed. What made everything even more magical though were the fairy lights she’d hung from the inside of the den. They gave off a lovely soft warm glow, which made Patsy feel instantly more relaxed, unlike the bright glare of the fireworks flickering outside. Delia had even lit a pinewood scented incense stick, and the room smelt wonderful.
Now it was Patsy’s turn to marvel at the wonder of her wife, and she was so overwhelmed with gratitude that she started to giggle and cry all at once, her body unable to differentiate between appropriate responses after holding both her muscles and mind tense for the entirety of the evening. ‘Oh, Deels,’ she started, pausing when Garbo looked up at her, affronted, because her attention was no longer completely on him and some of her tears had splashed onto his fur. Then he got over his annoyance and licked her palm. ‘Sorry, old thing,’ she said sheepishly.
‘Was that for me or the dog?’ Delia asked, arching a brow at the apology she considered unnecessary.
‘Oh, him, of course,’ Patsy purred, trying not to give in to the hiccups which were threatening to erupt as a result of her mixed emotions.
Delia approached her wife and enveloped her and Garbo in a warm hug. ‘I thought it might help if we had somewhere to escape for a while. If you want we can even bring the little one…’ she glanced down at the dog who was now attempting to nuzzle into his Welsh mam’s chest.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind? He’s already destroyed your book…’
Delia sighed dramatically. ‘I forgave him the moment he stared at me with those big puppy dog eyes.’ She pinched his cheeks and spoke in a baby voice, ‘Yes I did, didn’t I. Even though you’re a little scamp sometimes, you’re too adorable to be angry at.’
‘Like owner, like dog,’ Patsy put in with another giggle. ‘I feel called out.’
Delia smiled affectionately. ‘Come on, let’s get settled into our new den.’
‘You really are too perfect for words. I don’t know what I did to deserve you…’ Patsy said quietly as she moved into the den and out of the way of her wife’s reply to that oft-repeated phrase.
‘None of that, Pats.’ Delia said sternly, ‘Nobody can be perfect, you know that. And besides, there are rules to being inside this den. Rule number one is no self-deprecation.’
‘Hmph.’ Patsy pouted, hugging Garbo even closer as she flopped down on the floor made of cushions.
‘Rule number two of the den, cuddles are compulsory. Rule number three, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. In fact you don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to, and silence is encouraged given the racket outside. Rule number four, pets are totally allowed.’ She nodded at Garbo who barked appreciatively. ‘And finally, rule number five, this is a space for us and nobody else. We are in control at all times.’ She looked pointedly at Patsy now and dropped the schoolteacher charade. ‘You’re in control in here cariad,’ she said softly.
‘It’s not just about me,’ Patsy protested, slightly prickly at the level of compassion and care being offered. This was turning into one of her therapy sessions and she didn’t want Delia to put her own needs aside.
‘No, it’s not, you’re right.’ Delia acknowledged pragmatically. ‘But tonight of all nights, in this space, I want you to feel safe.’
‘Come and sit next to me then?’ her wife asked with a cheeky grin, patting the pillow just beside her perch.
Delia rolled her eyes and crawled into the den, closing the soft blanket door behind her, leaving them encased in a wonderful muffled silence apart from their breathing and Garbo’s panting. She settled down next to Patsy who had released Garbo from her hold. He’d already started making his own little nest out of the pillows supplied, thankfully not tearing any of them up with his teeth. Their soft furnishings would be safe for tonight at least.
Patsy and Delia sat together, watching their small fluffy baby get himself nestled in, ready for sleep. Delia snaked an arm around Patsy’s waist and held her close, letting her head rest on her wife’s shoulder. Somewhere in the distance some more fireworks popped and crackled. But their sound was very muted now they were inside a cocoon of blankets. Still, Delia felt Patsy tense a little at the noise. ‘Pats?’ she coaxed.
‘Deels –’ Patsy broke off, unsure about voicing her needs in this environment, but deciding that communication had been encouraged. ‘Could you distract me, please, darling? Not like that.’
‘Of course.’ Delia smiled, her dimples in full force. ‘In fact… I thought we might need a distraction, so I smuggled some cards in here under a cushion.’
She reached down and pulled out a pack of playing cards. It was lovingly tattered from overuse. Patsy had first bought them from the hospital gift shop when they were in university. They had enjoyed many an evening in halls playing card games together and this particular pack was reserved for special occasions.
Patsy’s eyes sparkled at the sight of them. ‘Thank goodness Trix isn’t here,’ she whispered, ‘because she’d come up with some sort of insinuation.’
‘Of course she would…’ Delia giggled. ‘Now, do you fancy a game of Rummy? I’m assuming strip poker is out of the question seeing as we’re in the presence of a little one,’ she nodded at Garbo who was now fast asleep on his back, his legs twitching occasionally as he dreamed.
Her wife feigned a scandalised stare. ‘Delia Busby-Mount. And here I thought we’d be safe from innuendoes without our dear friend Nurse Franklin.’ Patsy paused, laughing, and then grew pensive. ‘How’s about we play Patience?’
It was Delia’s time to break into giggles now. ‘How very apt. Of course we can play, Patience,’ she winked.
Patsy huffed in exasperation. ‘Clearly you need no outside influence. You think you’re so punny, don’t you, Deels.’
An extremely loud bang interrupted that thought as their neighbours set off yet another string of fireworks. Delia swore in Welsh under her breath and quickly wrapped Patsy in her arms, stroking Garbo to stop him from waking up fully.
‘Is it gone midnight yet?’ Patsy asked weakly, her voice wobbling.
Delia checked her phone, one arm still holding the redhead safely. ‘Almost, love. It’s 11:55. They must have had some problems with premature ignition.’
This joke was so terrible that it was almost funny, so Patsy allowed herself to laugh properly. ‘I think you mean ejaculation, love,’ she offered once she came up for air.
‘Au contraire,’ Delia said loftily, ‘I’ve done my best to avoid using that word at all costs since we left Male Surgical.’
‘I shan’t comment any further, except to note the binary nature of that statement.’ Patsy replied, revelling in her wife’s blush at the implication, before taking pity and changing the subject. ‘Shall I deal, then, Deels?’
Delia wanted to roll her eyes but couldn’t. Her wife had returned her terrible pun with one even worse and she couldn’t help but be impressed. ‘Deels away my dear.’
Patsy was glad they’d decided on a teamwork based game rather than a more competitive alternative, she wanted to be working with her wife rather than against her right now. That wasn’t to say that competitive Delia wasn’t a sight to behold. When the little Welsh firecracker wanted to win, she would stop at nothing to get there. She wasn’t a sore loser though and would easily be placated with a few kisses following a defeat. All in all it was adorable to witness, and they both won either way. Before the game was suitably set up, however, there were several more loud bangs, accompanied by the occasional whistle which acted as a pretty poor warning. Patsy was trying to stop her hands from shaking too hard as she attempted to lay the cards out.
Delia noticed instantly and stilled her movements, encasing the redhead’s cold but clammy hands in her own much smaller and warmer ones, whilst glancing at the bright face of her phone. ‘Blwyddyn Newydd Dda, cariad. We made it,’ she confirmed softly, ‘and I’m so proud of you.’
Patsy couldn’t help herself then. She erupted into sobs, crying on Delia’s shoulder, more in relief than anything else. Delia simply held her close, humming an old Welsh folk tune from this time of year, not shushing her or telling her to stop. Just letting her get it all out of her system. The crying also conveniently blocked out the sound of the rest of the celebrations outside and by the time the taller woman had drawn some deep breaths to calm herself, all was quiet in the night sky at last.
They would stay put for a while yet, though, because there were always stragglers, both of the firework kind and the drunken type. And neither of them had energy left from the ceilidh to leave a place which was already cosy and comforting for the comparative coolness of their bedroom. Patsy, in particular, was exhausted, so made no objection when Delia suggested they lie down right where they were sitting.
And so both fell asleep under the heavy warm duvet Delia had carted down from their bedroom. Garbo asleep a few feet away too, his little legs still twitching, dreaming of exciting walks and playing fetch. Delia was happily settled into being the big spoon, encasing her wife in a loving embrace, her own dreams peaceful and content. Patsy surprised herself with how quickly she managed to drop off that night, considering all that had occurred earlier. Her sleep was not perfect, but for the first time in a long while, she felt safe and secure on New Year’s Day. Perhaps being in the home of Hogmanay gave the festivity a healing power. Perhaps, more concretely, they had made a good choice in moving up here; for all it had meant leaving Poplar behind.