She was sorting out the patient notes for the morning clinic. Sister Bernadette wished Sister Julienne would assign her to the Kenilworth Row surgery a little more frequently or at least for a series of consecutive shifts. She was finding she would painstakingly manage to organize Dr Turners paperwork into something barely orderly; only to find she wouldn't be allocated back there for weeks. On her return she would have to start all over again.
The nun had wondered about asking her superior, if she could spend a month at the surgery getting Dr Turner in order. She had decided not to. It had been over 5 years since that surreal situation in the All Saints' parish hall kitchen. Neither of them had mentioned it again. Things had been awkward for a while. The demands of work, not to mention their impeccable professionalism, had eventually prevented either of them from letting one mistake spoil an excellent clinical team.
"Is Dad in his office, Sister?"
Sister Bernadette spun round to see Timothy Turner grinning at her. She looked up into his bright enquiring face. It was a young man's face now, not the lost little boy's face she used to look down into.
Dr Turner must have heard his son. He came out of his office, dressed in a navy blue suit, dark tie and sky blue shirt. Sister Bernadette preferred the smart waistcoats he used to wear. This new decade's fashion for men however, she had to admit, made him look more relaxed, less uptight.
She suddenly became aware he had noticed she was staring at him. Her face flushed and she went back to her notes. Fortunately Tim stole his father's attention.
"Dad, can I go and see the Rolling Stones tomorrow? They are on at the Regal."
Patrick's face screwed up, "Aren't they a bit undesirable?"
"I am going to watch them, not make friends with them," Tim retorted.
Sister Bernadette bit her lip, she loved Tim and his spirit unconditionally, but he really shouldn't talk to his father like that.
Patrick took his son's sarcasm well, "It's not you I am worried about, it is their crowd."
Tim sighed, Patrick cut him off before he could speak, "You are going to be late for school, we will talk about it tonight."
Patrick returned to his office. Tim didn't make for the door, he just watched his dad walk away from him. The nun knew it wasn't her place, but she saw the disappointment in the boy's face, he was still a boy at nigh on 17.
"They do have a bit of a reputation, Timothy."
"That's ridiculous!" he snapped and then blushed realizing who he had just snapped at.
She couldn't help herself, "To be fair, he is being pulled in all directions at the moment. What with the clinic, the surgery and Wadelock House."
Tim scowled, "What is Wadelock House?"
"A remand home," replied the sister, "he is covering for a colleague this week."
Timothy shook his head and sloped out the door. Patrick came out of his office and headed towards the maternity ward, he turned to the sister and said,
"Right I'm going next door, if I hear anything about Barbara, I will let you know."
The nun's voice cracked as she asked the doctor, if Barbara's husband understood the severity of the young nurse's infection. Doctor Turner was of the opinion Tom did, but was also in shock. He smiled reassuringly at the worried midwife.
The physician wanted to squeeze her hand to reassure her, but he knew that wouldn't be appropriate. All he could do was smile weakly and head through the door to the waiting ward.
