I've had a pretty bad time recently, so writing this has cheered me up immensely. Credit to Sarah (Rockbird86) for mentioning Laura cuddling her childhood blanket (see Sentebale video on Twitter) and of course it had to be fic-ed!
"Goodnight my darling" Shelagh whispered to the sleeping form of her daughter as she gently pulled the door to.
Angela, now two years old, usually had the same bedtime routine every night. However, Patrick had been called to an emergency (all evening and night calls had been passed to another doctor since the arrival of Angela). His disappearance couldn't be helped so Shelagh thought she'd still battle through, just without her husband's help. Fortunately for her, Angela seemed too tired to notice. Timothy, too, fell straight to sleep after his bath.
Shelagh stepped into the kitchen, retrieved her, now, lukewarm cup of Horlicks and settled onto the sofa in the living room. Slipping off her slippers, she placed her sore feet out in front of her and tucked them underneath a fallen cushion. Cycling round Poplar did wonders for her toned legs, but she would never had thought that dealing with a toddler almost every hour of the day could be so tiring. This would had been different if her younger sister had survived beyond three weeks old.
Shelagh let out a sigh and briefly shut her eyes. The evenings were always quiet, but even more so when Patrick was out. When they were both home, they liked to cuddle up with one another on the sofa, and listen to one of the few records they owned, or reminisce the early parts of their marriage. Life had been difficult for them for the first year of married life, but they had survived and their relationship was as strong as ever.
Contended once more with everything that had been given to her, Shelagh opened her eyes and scanned the room. As much as she tried to keep on top of the cleaning, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day to do so with a young child living in the same house. Each time she organised the small group of toys back into a small box in the the corner of the room, Angela pulled them all out once more to play with them. Patrick laughed at his daughter's playfulness and curiosity, whilst Shelagh tutted lovingly and relaxed against Patrick. However, on her look around the small, but comfortable room, Shelagh spotted a discarded item.
Angela's blanket.
When Shelagh was born, she had been wrapped carefully in the blanket to keep warm. The same happened to Shelagh's younger sister. However, when Shelagh decided that her life belonged to God working as a Sister in the convent, there had been no allowance of such personal items. A couple of photographs, the clothes on her back, a few washing items, and that was all. Yet, when Shelagh left behind Sister Bernadette for the love of her, now, husband, Sister Julienne gave her the blanket one afternoon in the privacy of her lodgings.
"Shelagh, for you my dear" Sister Julienne held out a small wrapped item to Shelagh who sat next to the Sister on the small, firm bed.
"What is it?"She whispered. These meetings had occurred every few days, but this was the first item she had received since being sent her suitcase at the sanatorium. She turned the parcel over in her lap, and begun to open the paper. She held up the blanket with small holes dotted on it, and let out a soft gasp. Her baby blanket. The tears fell, and Sister Julienne let them fall onto her shoulder as she held Shelagh tightly.
Instead of placing it in a cupboard away from sight, she decided that she wanted the blanket to belong to Angela, as it did to herself and sister.
Shelagh stood and crossed the room, she picked up the newly-patched up piece of material and brought it back with her to the sofa. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she draped the blanket over her legs and tucked it underneath herself as much as she could. As she remembered the snippets of early memories she had of her mother, and the later ones of her father, her emotions overwhelmed her and she lifted the cloth up slightly to sob into. She could still see a glimmer of her mother's smile when she told a joke, and smell the slight hint of her perfume after a long hard day.
Patrick closed the door softly behind him, five hours after being called out. The patient, now under hospital treatment, looked like they were going to make a full recover, which eased the pain slightly of being called away from his family. At nearly one in the morning, Patrick decided that a cup of tea was in order, before he woke Shelagh when he got into their squeaky bed. He rummaged in the dark to find the light switch in the living room.
"What…" Patrick saw the crumpled vision of his wife lying half upright on the sofa, her knees still bent. He tip-toed nearer to her, and caught sight of her tear stained cheeks.
Slowly he placed a kiss on her forehead, and heard the soft sigh through her nose.
"Darling" He whispered.
Patrick always cherished the times when he awoke before his wife and got to see her gradually awaken herself. A sigh was heard, then her eyelids fluttered and finally a small smile crept onto her face. Her alert state usually came just before a morning kiss.
He lifted her torso up, and gently sat onto the sofa next to her, and she shuffled to lean her head onto his shirt-clad shoulder.
"My love, what's wrong?" He then caught sight of the blanket, which had fallen to the floor, in the corner of his eye. "Oh" He breathed.
"I'm fine, honestly." With that, Patrick slowly felt Shelagh's head get heavier on his shoulder. He took the blanket and draped it over her, once again, curled up body.