Saturday 29 March 2014
“David Cameron has hailed the first same-sex marriages in England and Wales as sending a ‘powerful message’ about equality in Britain.
The law changed at midnight, with a number of gay couples vying to claim the title of being the first to be married in Britain by trying to time it perfectly so their vows were said just seconds after the clock struck midnight.
The prime minister said the reform was necessary because ‘when people's love is divided by law, it is that law that needs to change’.”
The newsreader’s voice fell out of the speakers of the radio and filled the farmhouse kitchen with the sound two people had wanted to hear for a very long time. Delia Busby placed the plate with neat little white bread soldiers drenched in melted butter around two eggs in shells with their tops knocked off. Like a little sun. “Pats!” She called, brushing her hands on her apron and walked into the living room “Breakfast love, and I’ve got some exciting news.”
Once bright ginger hair was now pure as white snow, firmly in her winter years. She looked up, a tad vacant behind her eyes. She was a child again really. One that needed looking for love and acceptance. Slowly she stood and shuffled slowly in her wool-lined slippers to her ‘Life Partner’ letting the tiny woman take her worn, regularly moisturised, extraordinarily experienced hands and help her into her seat “What news do you have then, Love?”
“We can get married!” Delia laughed, grating some cheese over her scrambled eggs, then brought her own plate to the dark wooden table covered with a white cloth and lace trim and sat opposite her, pouring them both a glass of orange juice
“Don’t be daft.” Patsy looked through her thickly framed glasses at her love, dipping some toast in the yolk
“I’m not, the woman on the radio just said so.” Delia wished they could rewind it like they could the telly now “Do you fancy it?” She floated the idea
“I don’t fancy that as a way of proposal Miss Busby.” Her still perfect eyebrow arched, the perfect compliment to her dry tone.
“Just checking that when I do ask, Doctor Mount, you say yes.” She grinned, smiling as she filled her mouth with soft, comforting egg.
******
Thursday 24th April 2014
A short train ride on an unfamiliarly fast, modern train, Delia watched the countryside flash before her eyes at a speed she could only have dreamed of as a little girl. Patsy had her nose in a book, something from Richard and Judy’s Book Club. When they finally pulled up by the sea a kind person helped them get their cases from the rack and they checked into a small, quaint B&B and headed upstairs
“I’ve booked us into a restaurant for dinner, but, I thought we could maybe go for a stroll along the promenade and grab a sandwich?” Delia suggested, hanging up some dresses and things that might get creased with care in the wardrobe. She took her headscarf off and glanced over
“Yes, that sounds lovely Sweetheart.” She reapplied her lipstick in the mirror and fixed her hat into place.
“No one wears hats anymore love- not even people our age.” Delia padded over and took a brush to her hair
“Our age?! The Queen wears a hat.” Patsy retorted in her usual manner
“You’re not the Queen, you’re my Queen- that doesn’t entitle you to act like you own the country.” Delia but down the brush and put a simple tortoiseshell clip in her hair.
“Careful darling, your Welsh is coming out.” Patsy fixed her hat and picked up the key and walked out of the room, her short companion rolling her eyes and following her all the way down to the sea.
That evening Delia Busby and Patsy Mount, now old women that had had seen man go into space, and people of all creed and colour and orientation march to make the world a better place, sat on the bench looking out to sea, the waves rolling towards them slowly and steadily unrelentingly- just like the tide of change they had seen over their lives, the moonlight reflecting on the expanse of water lighting up their faces much like a street light might.
“Pats, will you just do me one huge last favour?”
“Hum?” She asked, fiddling with her hands that were clasped together
“Will you… Do me the honour of becoming my wife?” She dug into her pockets and pulled out a small box and placed it in her hand, so many years after she had wanted.
Patsy opened the dark blue box but didn’t even look at the ring- she just looked straight at Delia and gave her one simple word- Yes.
******
Tuesday 17th June 2014
The affair was quite simple, the local registry office. Delia wore a white and pale yellow skirt suit and Patsy wore a light blue dress with a matching smart hat- although there had been only them and two friends from whist to witness when they stepped into the sun most of the village had come out to shower them in confetti and clap and cheer, shocking Pats and making Delia laugh. They did an interview with the local paper and then made their way to the pub- after which they weren’t charged a penny despite all of Patsy’s protests and padded all the way back to their house, hands clasped together, extra heavy now with symbols of their love. Delia let them in and then locked the door behind them “There, we’re famous for just being in love. Imagine telling us that to us 50 years ago.”
Patsy leaned down an inch or so and kissed her little ones silver hair. “We knew we’d get here though. That’s why we marched and protested and each milestone has only led to another. Our fight’s over now darling, let’s let the young ones have a go at pushing the world in the right direction.”
Delia led them through to their bedroom at the back “Yes. I’m ready to enjoy what we’ve won, I’m ready to be with you until I take my last breath, and know that the entire country recognises how much I love you.”
They changed into their M&S pyjamas and Delia put the fan on before they climbed into bed and snuggled up despite the heat- they had won, they had beaten up all the people who had spat on the and who had called them names. They had gold on their fingers and their names in a book that meant that the queen recognised their love. It meant the world to these two fine women- Delia Busby, district nurse and Patience Mount, GP- who had come from just being two trainee nurses in the early 1950’s.