Chapter Text
Student Nurse Delia Busby had just finished her shift in the paediatric ward at The London Hospital. It had been a long, but relatively simple shift. She liked paediatrics; the children had so much hope, so much fight in them, and the parents had so much love. As a student nurse she wasn’t qualified to do a huge amount, but she checked vitals and made sure the children’s spirits were up. Her final task for the day was to drop off a patient file to the administrative office. She had only been to the administrative office once since starting at The London about six months ago so, out of fear of being reprimanded for not knowing her way around, she wandered up and down several corridors looking for it. As she passed the sterilisation room she heard a loud crash, she peered in cautiously - if it was a doctor or a senior nurse then she shouldn’t interrupt - but it wasn’t. Delia softly opened the door and was surprised to see Patsy Mount.
Student Nurse Mount was in her class, but they didn’t really know each other. Delia was a quiet, diligent student, who was happy to slip under the radar. Patsy on the other hand wasn’t just noticeable because of her unbelievably long legs that made her stand heads above everyone else and her glowing ginger hair that was always perfectly pinned; she also oozed pure confidence and grace. She didn’t scuttle around in the background trying not to be noticed, like the other student nurses did; she marched around the hospital like she owned the place, and in their classes she had no hesitation in answering questions, despite not being top of the class. To be honest, most of the other student nurses found her a more than a little intimidating.
That is why Delia was startled to see her surrounded by broken glass in the sterilisation room, looking utterly terrified. “Are you ok?” Delia asked kindly, “are you hurt?” Patsy took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Delia stepped towards her, gently taking her hand and examining it for cuts. “You look fine. No damage done,” she said, offering the taller nurse a kind smile. Patsy opened her eyes and smiled back weakly.
“Thank you,” she said, heartfelt. “I’m sorry, I’m not having a good day.” She shook her shock away, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and bent down to start picking up the shards. Delia flung out an arm to stop her.
“Careful,” she said, “I’ll get a container.”
Working together, it took them mere moments to clear the floor and set out a new tray of test tubes ready for the next shift. “Thank you so much, Delia,” said Pasty gratefully, “It is Delia right?”
“Yes, that’s me,” she grinned, not surprised that Patsy hadn’t been sure of her name.
“I owe you one!” said Patsy sincerely.
“Well, Is there any chance that you know where the administration room is?”
“Next to Dr. Malent’s office.” Delia gave a questioning look, “Down the corridor from the first floor waiting room.” Delia still looked a little unsure. “I’ll show you.”
After their expedition to the first floor, then a brief visit to the nurses’ room to collect their coats, they had both finish their shifts. As they stepped out of the staff exit and into the sunny London side street, Delia leaned her head back and breathed deeply, letting the warm light caress her face and the cool air fill her lungs. “Back in Wales we never spent the whole day inside, even on the coldest rainiest day,” she said, wistfully.
“But I’m sure the air there isn’t full of smoke and fog,” Patsy pointed out, “I do worry for the lungs of the poor chaps who are working out in the streets all day.”
“You’re right. Back home the air is fresh and clean, refreshing and clear. It feels actively healthy. Here everyone seems to cough, and sometimes you can’t even see the sky.”
“Do you miss it?” Patsy asked, although she immediately regretted asking such a personal question to a mere acquaintance. Delia thought for a moment.
“The air, yes. And the countryside; miles upon miles of green grass dotted with sheep, the hedgerows filled with wild rabbits. But I don’t miss the quiet. There’s nothing to go, ever. Or the fact that the villages are so small that everyone knows all your business. There’s no such thing as a secret in the Welsh countryside.”
“Some parts of London are like that too!” said Patsy.
“True. But there’s so much more freedom here too,” smiled Delia, “If I’d stayed back home I would probably already be married to some boy that I’ve known since we were babies, having children, and that would have been it. He’d have been a farmer and so would our sons. There are no opportunities for girls in the countryside. Our job is just to cook dinner and clean up after the men.” She sighed. “Here I can get an education, a job, some independence. And I can get away from my nagging parents.” She said. Patsy laughed, but when Delia turned to look at her she saw sadness behind her eyes. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry. I’ve been nattering away about myself. You’ve not been able to get a word in edgeways.” She laughed at herself. Patsy smiled back at her, the sadness having gone back into hiding.
“Would you like to get fish and chips?” Patsy asked, unexpectedly. Delia was a little taken aback by the unanticipated question. She had been hoping that Patsy would share something personal, to make her feel less uncomfortable having shared so much about herself. “I’ve had a rotten day and I’m awfully tired. It’ll be a nice treat.” Patsy continued.
“Ok then, why not,” grinned Delia. She almost never treated herself.
Shortly, they were perched on a bench in a quiet part of Victoria Park, each with a paper parcel of steaming fish and chips in their laps. “This was a very good idea,” said Delia, taking her first bite of the indulgent meal. “But you still haven’t told me, why has your day been so awful?” Patsy suddenly developed an intense interest in a duck that was grooming itself on the edge of the pond in front of them. “I’m sorry,” said Delia, a little flustered. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s rude to pry. I...I just...I just thought that you might want to talk about it.” Patsy turned her head to face her. The sadness was back in her eyes, but this time it had spread across her whole face. “You can tell me, Patsy,” assured aid Delia softly, reaching between them and giving Patsy’s warm hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Patsy sighed, looked at the hand that was offering her such kind, unconditional comfort, then took a deep breath.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, “Why are you being so kind to me? I know that none of you like me very much.” A faint hint of bitterness was audible in her voice, but so was insecurity.
“That’s not true Patsy. You’re just so... so... I don’t know,” she paused, trying to find the right words. “It’s like you’re separate from the rest of us. You’re more... together. We admire you. We just haven’t been able to get to know you.” Patsy swallowed guiltily as she recognised that description of herself to be very accurate.
“Apart from the part about me being together, I think you’re probably right.” She admitted. “I’m not particularly good at making friends. Or trusting people.” There was a moments silence between them while Patsy decided whether or not to trust her new friend. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears from putting in an appearance.
“Today is the 21st March. The anniversary of my Mother’s death.” She stopped, and took a deep breath to steady herself. Delia took hold of her hand again. “Typhoid,” she managed. Her voice shaking.
“Oh gosh, Patsy. I’m so terribly sorry,” said Delia quietly; unsure quite how to comfort the woman who was normally so incredibly composed. “Would you like to go to St Mary’s chapel and light a candle for her?” This expression of kindness caused Patsy to finally crumble. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and a quiet sobbing noise came from the back of her throat.
“That would be lovely. Thank you Delia. But let’s finish these chips first. Otherwise they’ll get cold.”