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‘Patsy, sweetie –’
‘Lalalala.’
Patsy knew she was being unfair. After all, it was only a few days ago that Trixie had been going through a tough time of her own, and she’d been the one helping. But that was the thing about help – it was so much easier to offer than accept. Especially on days like this. Thankfully, her best friend seemed to understand that, because she didn’t push.
The opposite, actually.
‘I’m not coming in, don’t worry,’ she heard through the door, ‘I’m just going to leave a cocktail of assorted chocolates and painkillers out here for you to fetch whenever you want them. Oh, and a hot water bottle. I thought you might need an extra one, just in case.’
The practicality in the explanation made her whimper, and she bit her lip, fighting back tears. Then she gave up, and called, in a trembling voice, ‘Trix…’
‘Is that an invitation?’ her fellow blonde asked, clearly checking in, though whether from kindness or fearful anticipation of something being lobbed at her head if the assumption was incorrect she couldn’t be sure.
‘Yes,’ she promised, hoping her sincerity would be evident, and sighing in relief when the door handle moved and the other woman tiptoed inside. At the sight of her best friend, she managed a small grin, and followed it with an expression of guilt. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just everyone’s being so nice to me and I can’t cope.’
Trixie’s eyebrow raised briefly and she giggled. ‘Apparently I should’ve brought you a potato as well,’ she said drily, ‘but it’s okay. It’s PMS: Patsy Mount’s Sads.’
She couldn’t help giggle herself at the terrible joke (along with the previous reference to their habit of offering up some form of root vegetable when they were felt to have apologised “unnecessarily”), before grumbling, ‘I hate hormones.’
‘I know you do. Even more than most of us,’ came the sympathetic agreement as her best friend morphed into their newly-acquired student nurse mode, before briefly breaking character to mutter, ‘Cockwombles,’ in what Patsy had come to appreciate, if amusedly, as the over-protectively supportive yet carefully casual tone used for the people (the staff) she deemed responsible for ruining Patsy’s childhood. Then Trixie grinned and the moroseness of the moment moved on. ‘But that’s why, along with all the practical treatments I’ve left in a pile outside, I also brought this,’ she trilled, whipping something out from behind her back.
Her eyes went wide as she registered what the DVDs were – the complete boxset of Xena. ‘You know that’s super gay, right, Franklin?’
Trixie gave an obviously exaggerated huff. ‘I do, yes, Mount – but you know I’m very invested in lesbian and bisexual solidarity. And I think that’s exactly what you need at the moment. So I’m offering.’
She couldn’t hold back another giggle. ‘I guess you are,’ she allowed, ‘and I guess you’re right.’
‘I’m always right,’ her best friend pronounced triumphantly, kicking off her shoes in preparation to bounce down beside her on the bed. ‘And, on that note, have you talked to Delia yet?’
Patsy decided a gentle but well-placed whack with her extra pillow was more than sufficient as an answer.
Despite their enthusiasm, their binge wasn’t particularly successful. They decided to pause after only the third episode of Season One, because they’d forgotten the subject matter, and Patsy was rather more affected by it than she liked in her current state. So, snuggled under her duvet, she tried to wait patiently for the hot water bottle Trixie had ventured to the kitchen to fill. Her eagerness for it to arrive meant that, when there was a tap on her door, she just shouted, ‘Come in!’, only surfacing to thank her best friend once she entered. She was therefore extremely surprised to spot not Trixie but Delia. ‘Oh –’ she blurted out, before remembering her manners and blushing bright red.
The young Welshwoman just giggled. ‘Hot water bottle delivery,’ she said smoothly, and Patsy thought she might hyperventilate at the combination of the lilt in her voice and the brief flash of the most adorable dimples. Then, though, Delia spoke again, and she had to fight to focus. ‘Trix had to run to the loo, and she’d already left this on the side to cool for a while, so I said I’d bring it.’
She felt her forehead crease in concern for her best friend. ‘Is she okay?’
Brown hair nodded. ‘She just thought her period started. I think it’s in sympathy with you. You might even have synced up.’
It was her turn to giggle now. ‘I suppose we do spend a fair bit of time together. But is that even a thing?’
Delia grinned again. ‘I’m not sure it’s medically proven, but I’ve been doing a lot of reading and there is a certain amount of anecdotal evidence.’
Aware she was blushing even more, she decided to deflect with a gentle joke. ‘I guess you’ve got to do something with all this extra time we have for theory study.’
Her heart raced as Delia giggled a second time. ‘From what I’ve gathered so far, you’re just as much of a nerd as I am. But I’ll take that rib to mean you and Trixie haven’t been holed up with textbooks all day.’
She shook her head, feeling her lips quirk up into a sheepish grin. ‘We were watching Xena. Didn’t get through much, though, because the third episode was about dreams and I didn’t respond very well –’ She broke off, her breath catching as she realised what she’d said, and felt her face get hotter – if that was possible.
But the brunette didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Nightmares bad at the moment?’
She gaped – totally nonplussed by the reaction as well as the words that went with it – then shook herself to pull some sort of reply together, eventually managing, ‘How do you know about – I haven’t told you –’
She broke off again as the shorter woman shrugged. ‘I’m only next door and these walls are thin,’ Delia explained with a small smile.
She groaned, only just resisting the impulse to burrow down so she’d be completely hidden by her duvet, and covering her face as a compromise. ‘Oh my God I’m so sorry.’
Through her fingers, she saw the younger woman shake her head. ‘I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just thought, if you knew I know, then you might be happier asking for help when it happens.’
She was so surprised that she let her hand move away from her mouth. ‘What do you mean?’
Delia seemed to notice the shift, because she beamed and breathed, ‘Well, when I’m scared, or even just upset, I feel better for a cwtch,’ she said, before apparently registering the confused expression on Patsy’s face and clarifying, ‘That’s Welsh for “cuddle”, though they aren’t quite the same thing.’
The taller woman grimaced reflexively at the thought of asking, no matter how comforting the idea of contact – especially contact with Delia – suddenly did feel. ‘I wouldn’t want to be an imposition.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Delia reassured immediately, in such a soothing voice that she was almost lulled into believing it. Then she went on, and her words confirmed her sincerity. ‘I’d like to help. Because I like you. A lot, actually.’
She started feeling a little lightheaded, and could only squeak out, ‘Oh –’
But that must’ve been enough, because the giggle returned. ‘I’ll leave you to mull that over with your hot water bottle,’ the brunette said, her dimples returning too, as she walked to the bed to hand it over.
Taking it, she grinned in gratitude, then spoke up in hopes of stopping the small hand retreating. ‘I don’t suppose,’ she said in a small voice, ‘you’d be up for a cwtch now? I – I like you a lot as well.’
The delighted smile she got in answer suggested Delia was very “up for it” indeed.
‘That’s why I have nightmares. But it’s also why I want to be a nurse,’ she finished, with a deep breath and a shaky giggle of relief. Delia just squeezed her slightly tighter, and the gentle response gave her the strength to add something else. ‘You know, I haven’t told anyone that.’
The blue eyes staring into hers got wide. ‘Not even Trixie?’
She shook her head. ‘Nope. I mean, she knows bits, from times when my brain’s misbehaved without me being able to stop it – but no-one knows everything. Not even my therapist. Except you.’
‘I’m so proud of you I could kiss you.’
The emotion in the sentence made the young Welshwoman’s accent even thicker, and the English (ish) one felt like she might swoon. Instead, she went for something just as emphatic, even though her voice was quiet as she spoke. ‘You’ve been so lovely about it I could kiss you.’
Delia apparently observed that she was shy, because she pulled back a bit, saying playfully, ‘Go on then,’ before puckering her lips in an exaggerated pout.
She giggled for a few moments, overcome with all sorts of feelings, but then drew a deep breath again to gasp, ‘You look like a fish.’
‘Well you’ve caught me, hook, line and sinker,’ the shorter woman quipped back, and she watched as that adorable face wrinkled in disgust at the words coming out of its mouth. ‘Iesu mawr! That was awful. Forgive me?’
She quirked her lips into a lopsided smile, whispering, ‘Kiss me, and I just might,’ as she brushed the tip of her nose to Delia’s.
The other woman seemed not to need telling twice, and tipped her head up just enough so their lips touched. It was tentative at first, light and tender – but her intention was quickly clear as Patsy felt her tongue caress her bottom lip. Opening her mouth on a soft moan, she allowed Delia access, marvelling at the way her body knew what to do – what she wanted – when her mind was feeling as though it might short circuit at any moment. She felt Delia grin against her mouth, presumably at the sound, so she thought she should offer another one in encouragement. After that, a small hand appeared at the back of her head, holding her steady, and it was her turn to smile as they continued exploring each other. Losing themselves in the tastes and touches, they also may have lost track of time, because the next thing she was aware of was a knock on the door.
‘Patsy, sweetie, I just wanted to apologise for leaving my station earlier – did Delia bring you your hot water bottle?’
She could only stare, stunned; so looked to Delia for help as they broke apart. The Welshwoman shot her a wicked grin, and she tried to find her voice before something like the terrible joke from earlier came out of the mouth opposite. But she was too late, because the brunette had already started answering. ‘I did, yes, and she’s very warm and cosy now.’
She felt herself going bright red. ‘Delia!’
A pair of blue eyes blinked innocently back. ‘Well you are, aren’t you?’
She yet again didn’t get a chance to retort, as the door opened a crack, and her best friend’s head appeared. ‘Oh,’ Trixie said, grinning with obvious triumph at the sight that greeted her. ‘Now I don’t feel quite so annoyed about my period arriving. And at least, in these circumstances, you don’t have to cope with long-distance because we’re all in lockdown together.’
Patsy said nothing; deciding that, that time, Trixie deserved a pillow thrown directly across the room.