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Patsy hurried on, with warm thoughts ahead, and a light beaming from within.
The phone box was only a few streets away, but each one was an obstacle course as she maneuvered through shoppers calling out Christmas greetings and vendors hawking the usual seasonal treats such as roasted chestnuts. She blocked out the din and concentrated on the words spoken a few minutes ago in a soft Welsh lilt- “I’m calling from a box on Whittle Street.” Laughing to herself, she remembered how swiftly her mood had changed. When the phone rang at Nonnatus she had offered to answer it for Sr. Evangelina, who was still caring for the newly found Sr Monica Joan. “Why do babies have to be born when it’s snowing?” she had thought as she grudgingly answered the phone, trying to keep her tone neutral while offering the standard greeting, “Nonnatus House. Midwife speaking.” Any resentment she might have had at being forced out into the snowstorm was immediately replaced by the eagerness to see her caller. Patsy could almost hear good news in Delia’s teasing words, “There’s someone there in need of attention.” The nuns were still focusing their attention on Sr Monica Joan, so Patsy could only squeeze the elderly nun’s hand, with heartfelt thanks for her safe return, before bidding the group goodnight, grabbing her coat and rushing out into the snow.
Her pace quickened and she broke into a short run until she rounded the corner and stopped, not daring to trust her eyes at the sight of the face in the phone box, until the undeniable figure of Delia Busby burst from the box and ran towards her. They flung their arms around each other, a tactile confirmation of their reunion, with great gulps of air and smiles that grew broader as the hug became tighter.
They scurried into the phone box, out of the snow and with a bit of privacy. The space was small, not really built for two, which gave them a good excuse to huddle close together, arms around each other’s waists. Patsy’s eyes searched the shorter woman’s face, trying to anticipate her news.
Delia gave her a slight smile tinged with frustration. “They say the headaches will fade away. I just need to rest for a little longer. Not that my mother will let me do much else.”
“Will she let you come back to work?” Patsy braced her arm against the glass wall, as if to shield her girlfriend from the overbearing Mrs. Busby.
“I have to come back to work, back to London.” She looked around. “This is where my life is. And where you are.”
“Deels, I’m not going anywhere. But you can’t come back if they don’t give you a clean bill of health.”
“They will. I’ll make them.” As always, Delia’s optimism was stronger than Patsy’s doubts. Smiling, she leaned in for a kiss, but just before Patsy’s lips met hers a loud banging startled them both and they broke apart. Fear flickered across Patsy’s face.
“People out here are waiting,” shouted an angry voice.
“People in here are waiting,” Delia sighed, with a shake of her head and a rueful smile.
Patsy returned the smile. “Let’s get a coffee.”
They stepped out of the phone box, ignoring the glare of the waiting man as he muttered, “About Time!”
“I don’t have time for a coffee, but I need to tell you something more,” said Delia, pulling Patsy into the alley. “We’re going home tomorrow. I know I told you we’d be here longer, but now that I’ve seen all the doctors, Mam insists on being home for Christmas.”
“No, Deels, you can’t leave yet! We haven’t spent nearly enough time together! And I was hoping you’d bring your mother to the service we’re filming for the BBC. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you about it. The BBC decided they want to film a carol service and broadcast it on Christmas Day. For some bizarre reason they picked our parish, though they must not have seen us first. Your mother may prefer a Welsh language service, but this will be on the BBC on Christmas night. She might have been on television!!”
“We don’t even own a set, so I doubt this will change her mind,” Delia responded. “But I certainly don’t want to miss it. You on the BBC on Christmas night- the whole country will be watching!”
“Not us- we don’t have a television set either. Which might be a good thing. This could be a disaster.” Patsy’s eyes widened at the thought of all that could go wrong.
“Don’t say that, Pats. Christmas is a time for miracles, isn’t it? After all, we found each other again.” Her hands ran up Patsy’s arms and around her back. The redhead looked around cautiously before encircling the brunette’s waist. “And I will find a television. My cousin Bronwyn has one -surely she’ll let me watch. And then I’ll write you a long letter telling you all about it and how much I loved seeing you. And I’ll post the letter myself. Mam knows I’m meeting you now-“
Patsy stepped back. “You said she didn’t suspect anything!”
Delia drew her back in. “She doesn’t, I promise you. She still just thinks you’re my friend from from training that leads the Cubs. But she doesn’t want me to have anything to do with London, and that includes you. I told her we ran into each other at the coffee shop and that I promised to tell you about my doctors’ visits. I think the only reason she let me come tonight is because we are leaving tomorrow. But I WILL come back. I don’t know when, but I will. And we WILL be together.” She paused, and fished around in her purse. “I have a little something for you.” Patsy started to protest, but Delia quickly shushed her. “It’s not really a Christmas present, so you can go ahead and open it now.” Patsy gingerly unwrapped the small package and found a sewing kit. She looked quizzically at her girlfriend, who returned the look with an encouraging smile. “Remember, Pats. Don’t break the thread.” They hugged again, reluctant to pull apart, knowing that their next embrace could be many months in the future.
At last, sighing heavily, Delia let her arms fall but held on to Patsy’s hands. “I have to get the bus back now.” They dropped hands and walked side by side to the bus stop. Conversation became casual, as they chatted about the snow, the holiday lights, and other trivial things. As the bus drew near they faced each other one more time, now silent, too filled with emotion to speak. Only when Delia was safely on the bus did they wave and shout, “Merry Christmas!”
ooooooooooooooo
Show time!!! The night of the filming had finally arrived. The church was ready, the film crew was ready, even the nuns were ready, having overcome their initial objections to a church service being used as entertainment. Trixie was definitely camera-ready, Phyllis’ voice was as ready as it would ever be, and Barbara was secretly ready to wear the red lipstick which might or might not attract a certain parish priest. Patsy wasn’t quite ready to wear such a silly cap, but Barbara had had so much fun adding the garish frills that she cheerfully joined in the excitement and laughter.
To everyone’s astonishment (and relief) the filming went off without a hitch. Shelagh sang beautifully, though Patsy felt a twinge of disloyalty that Shelagh’s version of “Silent Night” was much easier on the ear than the children’s version which had included several of her over-enthusiastic Cubs. All appeared calm and bright as she looked out on mother and child, baby Joy sleeping peacefully in Iris’ arms. Their little choir, augmented by a few nuns from the neighboring parish, might not have equaled a heavenly host, but each voice sang “hallelujah” as Barbara stepped forward to gather the newborn and place her in the cradle. The scene was beautiful and moving, spiritual in a way Patsy rarely felt. Everyone she loved was here - everyone except the one she loved the most. Her heart ached at not being able to share this moment with Delia, an ache reflected in her somber expression.
Come Christmas night her mood had changed completely. The entire Nonnatus gang enjoyed the holiday feast, complete with Christmas pudding, courtesy of Sr Monica Joan. Then they gathered around the new television set- also courtesy of the elderly nun- to watch the broadcast. Cheers and shrieks of laughter accompanied every camera shot. Even when Trixie teased her about her glum countenance, Patsy laughed it off light-heartedly. “You didn’t have Sr. Theodosia squawking in your ear!”
Sr. Winifred protested. “I thought she sounded just fine! Though not like Mrs. Turner, of course,” she added with a nod to Shelagh. “I thought we all did a marvelous job and we should do it again next year. Don’t you agree, Mr. Hereward?” The room exploded, with everyone turning to each other and sharing their opinions with protests, laughter, and banter. And most of all, with love.
Patsy gazed at the small screen and the solemn faces of the choir. Those same faces were now here next to her, with broad smiles and twinkling eyes. She took a deep breath and looked around, treasuring the sense of community and family that had been absent for most of her life. She thought of Iris, and was struck by the similarities in their stories. Each had found love and had it tragically taken away, Iris with her first child and Patsy with Delia’s accident. Each had learned to live with that loss, and yet now had been given a second chance at happiness and fulfillment. A Christmas miracle? She couldn’t say. If there were such things as miracles, now was the perfect time for them.