A look that was a touch longer than usual. Dilating of the pupils. And then, the soft melting of their lips as they touched each other's.
Shelagh and Patrick Turner had seen few films during their courtship and marriage, claiming that they had neither the time nor the large resources to go, but The Sound Of Music had been an exception. Trixie had gone on none-stop about Breakfast At Tiffany's, and Barbara spent many-a-clinic recalling the songs from Mary Poppins. When this particular film was shown to the few screens across the country, life was busy for the Turners. Angela was in her second year of school, and Timothy had earned a place in university to follow in the footsteps of his father. However, the nurses at Nonnatus insisted that they used one of their weekly joint nights off to enjoy a trip to the cinema. The quiet giggling and amused looks now begun to make sense to them now.
Shelagh remembered, as she sat in the living room chair looking at the small black and white photograph that had been taken that day, how the cinema seemed to light up and dazzle before her very eyes. Even now, in her 80's, she could still remember the way her dress feel against her calves and softly moved with each step she took. And at her side with every move was her husband, Patrick. His eyes couldn't seem to turn away from her for more than a few moments at a time, for fear she'd be whisked off by someone. She remembered how he'd uttered that in her ear, and wound his arm gently around her waist in an unusual public sign of affection. Well he had said he liked that dress...
Settling down to the almost-finished crocheted blanket, she picked up her crochet hook and carried on the last row.
"Twist over, pull through, twist over, pull through, twist over, pull through.." She muttered to herself, something her father used to scold her for as a child. Her mutters, however, were always the words she could remember from her mother. Usually it was when young Shelagh missed her most, but one skill her mother had taught her before her death was how to crochet. As a young child, the repetition had made it easy for her to master the basic skills, and soon she was able to do more than just row after row. But in her older years, Shelagh's hands would become tired after only a row, but, she persevered as this blanket was special. For the child so longed for by her and her husband, she had begun to create a beautiful nightdress. Although the biological child never came, she would never doubt God's love when their Angela arrived. As she tied off the final stitch and shakily cut the piece of wool, she laid the now completed blanket on her legs. Angela's unborn child, would hopefully treasure this homemade item, just as Angela herself had the nightdress.
Unfortunately for Shelagh, she would never seen the joy on Angela's face as she opened the gift, just as Sister Julienne had on her own. Nor would she see how Angela would drape the blanket over her newly born little boy as he slowly drifted off in her arms. Her eyes gently closed, and her heart slowed until they reached their final beat.