He had overheard it often in many different forms, but tonight's most recent phrase — "Dr. Turner sure is a looker" — was playing around his head with a certain sense of irony. There was no end of adjectives that were tossed around Nonnatus Women's Hospital, by both nurses and patients, concerning the recently widowed doctor. Tim couldn't understand their fascination if he were honest, but he usually did well to tune out the chatter concerning his dad. He'd gotten used to it in his many afternoons spent alone in the hospital's break room after school. Patients would gossip loudly in their rooms about the doctors and nurses, not seeming to care who heard every opinionated word. The nurses, at least, tried to be a bit more discreet about their colleagues, although there were many instances where whispered words would turn to giggles as they entered the break room, frequently not noticing the young boy tucked away in the corner. The only one who didn't force him to think about his dad in a way that he would really rather not were the Sisters, the nuns who oversaw the nursing staff. He really didn't think he could take it if even the nuns started tittering on about his dad. But that last phrase played over and over in his head tonight as he watched his dad hunched over at his desk, "Dr. Turner sure is a looker." All his dad looked right now was worn thin.

Patrick Turner was not an old man, Tim knew that, but he also knew that his father looked to have aged a decade in the year since his mum had died. Tonight, he looked even older as he spoke with his mother-in-law on the phone. Tim could recognize the signs of frustration and fatigue quite clearly — frequently pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing his forehead, constantly battling with the fringe of hair that kept falling into his eyes, not to mention all manner of sighing and non-committal answers to Granny Parker. Based on the side of the conversation he could hear, Tim assumed she was informing him of yet another well-meaning friend attempting to set him up with their niece/cousin/neighbor/friend. He knew they were only trying to help, hoping to find someone to lift his dad out of despair or perhaps just someone who could make sure Tim would eat something other than fish and chips for dinner every night, but they didn't seem to realize that every introduction ended in disaster.

"We've been invited for tea tomorrow at Granny Parker's," he said as he hung up the phone, and added with a sigh of resignation, "Helen is bringing her hairdresser." Helen was Granny's neighbor, who had already run through her list of single female relations, and was apparently grasping at straws. "She seems to think we'll hit it off and wants to make sure I'll have a date for the Christmas party." Patrick's forehead hit the desk with a loud thunk, "I really need a girlfriend."

"Interesting proposal, Doctor, but that's not exactly why I came to your office."

Tim spun around on his heels and Patrick shot up from his desk so fast he nearly fell over his chair. Neither had noticed Nurse Mannion in the doorway. Prim, proper, and no nonsense, she often kept to herself around the other nurses, often too busy to stop and chat, though she always made time to stop in the chapel when the Sisters were having prayer. Tim saw Nurse Franklin often try to engage her in conversation and gossip, but something seemed to hold her back — he couldn't figure out if she was too shy, too uncertain of herself, or if she just enjoyed the work so much she didn't mind her social life taking a backseat. Still, Tim liked her quite a bit — Nurse Mannion was the only one outside of the Sisters who seemed to always notice him, treating him with kindness in her own quiet way.

Patrick attempted to straighten himself with as little embarrassment as possible, hands quickly moving to smooth the numerous wrinkles in his light pink button-up shirt. "I… um… well… you see what I was saying...what I mean is...that's not what I…" words came tumbling out, but they seemed to have lost all coherent thought or meaning.

A broad smile played out on the nurse's lips. "You know what? Why not? I'm in." And with a tiny nod and a wink toward Tim she added, "Just don't tell Sister Julienne, I overheard her yesterday giving a long speech to Nurse Franklin about fraternizing with colleagues."

Tim's eyes became wide as saucers as he looked between the two adults. He couldn't quite read Nurse Mannion's face as he kept waiting for the punchline. The moments ticked by, the clock on the wall seeming uncharacteristically loud in the silence of the office, but she didn't budge. Finally Tim turned his attention fully toward the doorway, if only to avoid having to see his dad's tonsils any longer since he seemed unable to pick his jaw off of the floor. "You can't be serious!? Certainly you're joking, right?"

"Of course not! I am absolutely certain we must keep this hidden from Sister Julienne, and everyone else too, for that matter." Her eyes began to twinkle with mischief as the broad smile turned into outright giggles at the looks on the faces of the Turner men.

"I… um… I don't… What?" Patrick still couldn't seem to grasp what was happening. He was just complaining about being set up, and now he had a secret girlfriend? This couldn't be right. He must have hit his head on the desk harder than he thought and had caused hallucinations. For one thing, he was at least ten or fifteen years Nurse Mannion's senior, and for another, he'd made it a rule to never consider anyone at Nonnatus Hospital romantically. And although he hadn't really been in the dating realm since he and Marianne began seeing one another, he knew that it hadn't become this easy. He couldn't just say, 'I need a girlfriend' and have one show up on your doorstep, could he?

"I'm sorry, have I overstepped the mark?" For the first time in the conversation, Nurse Mannion seemed to doubt herself and began to look quite awkward and ill at ease. Her cheeks turned a bright crimson as she continued, "It's just that, I couldn't help but overhear part of your conversation on the phone and I think I understand what you meant — you're tired of being paraded around in front of all your relations' single friends, aren't you?"

Patrick could only nod in affirmation, as he didn't want to embarrass himself a third time with nonsensical speech.

"How could you tell that from what little he said?" Tim asked amazed, "You could only hear his half of the conversation!"

"My mother died when I was young," she explained quietly, all evidence of her earlier mirth dissipated. "I remember my father complaining about all those who kept trying to replace her. It seemed that every customer in his greengrocer's shop knew someone who could fill that place, someone who could be the mother I no longer had." Her eyes clouded over for a few moments deep in thought, almost as if she were seeing herself as a child again in her mind's eye, until she shook her head quickly, clearing the thoughts away and forcing herself back into the present. "I only meant that I could play the part, if you wanted, to get some of those well-meaning relatives out of your way?"

Tim seemed to process her words quicker than Patrick, jumping up and grabbing her hand, grinning from ear to ear. "What a smashing idea! Dad, Helen would have to leave you alone if you had a girlfriend… then you can 'break up' after Christmas! Nurse Mannion, you're a genius!"

Determined not to sound like a fool, Patrick took his time before attempting to speak again, blinking slowly as comprehension came over him. The problem was, he couldn't even begin to think of what to say. He did know he shouldn't continue this conversation from at his desk and stood slowly to stand a few feet in front of her, looking her over slowly, trying to read every expression. His eyes landed on the lanyard around her neck carrying her Hospital ID - S. Mannion, Lead Midwife, Nonnatus Hospital. Looking back into her face, he softly confessed, "I don't even know your first name."

"Shelagh"

"Patrick"

"There. We've made a start."