Dr Turner had never been very good at waiting, whether it was for the Polio vaccinations to be finished, or for Timothy to finish cleaning the test tubes at the surgery, or for the X-ray van to come to Poplar. But at this moment he found it harder than ever. He sat quietly in the waiting room of the London and stared at the doorway through which Sister Bernadette had disappeared almost an hour before.
He had so wanted to go in with her, he probably could have talked his way into the X-ray room with insistence that as her GP he should be there. But she had been uncomfortable enough during his examination at the convent, he knew she didn't want him there. She had stood up and smiled bravely at him when her name was called and strode confidently out of the waiting room without a backward glance. Doctor Turner had been the only one to notice the tremble in her hands and the distant look in her eyes as she followed the radiographer out of the room.
He flicked lazily through old copies of the Lancet which were strewn across the waiting room table, but his eyes didn't even register the words on the page. He was just reaching the back cover of the June 1958 edition when he heard the door open and saw Sister Bernadette enter the room. Her hand clutching a large brown envelope.
"All ready to go Sister?" Dr Turner asked cheerfully, desperate to make her look at him so that he could try to read her expression, but her gaze remained fixed at her shoes and all he received was a slight nod and a mumbled "yes" in reply.
He picked up her coat from the chair next to him and handed it to her before taking his car keys from his pocket and heading towards the hospital's exit. Sister Bernadette walked quickly and silently ahead of him, and he only just managed to get to the car in time to open the passenger door for her.
Once they were sat next to each other in the car Sister Bernadette wordlessly passed him the brown envelope, it was creased where her small fingers had gripped it so tightly. Dr Turner slid the crisp paper from the envelope and gasped as he saw the letterhead, marked with the crest of St Anne's Sanatorium staring back at him.
"Oh, Sister, I …" he mumbled "I am so sorry"
He quickly scanned the rest of the letter, but its contents were exactly as he had feared, she was to go to the sanatorium tomorrow, and they could not say when she might return, they advised her to bring anything she may desire to have with her for the foreseeable months and outlined the treatment she would receive while there. Dr Turner had read letters like this with patients a hundred times, but this was different, this time the name in the box marked "Patient" was a colleague, a friend who he valued and, he could not deny it any longer, for whom he cared deeply.
It was only then that he looked at her, and saw truly how frightened she was. The tears that she had held back all day were flowing freely now, but quietly, as if she did not want to disturb him or distract him from the letter. Her already pale face seemed grey and tear stained and he was surprised to see her small hands were not at the cross around her neck but were instead clasped tightly in her lap.
He reached out to hold her hand almost instinctively, but managed to stop himself and instead placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. He expected her to stir herself and flinch away from his touch, but she seemed to relax a little when his hand reached her, as if it were offering the support she needed.
It was then that she finally turned to look back at him, her blue eyes swimming with tears.
"Doctor," she muttered, half hoping he wouldn't hear her "I am so scared"
"I know Sister, but the triple treatment can work miracles these days, I see no reason why you should be there more than a few weeks."
He was lying. They both knew it, they were medical professionals and had both given these gabbled responses filled with false hope countless times in their careers. But this time was different, this time they both chose to believe it.
Sister Bernadette began to speak again, a little louder this time but still timidly.
"Doctor Turner," she started, and he so wished she knew him by some other, some less formal, less professional name "I hate to ask you for this, you have done so much for me and I…" she thought back to their encounter in the clinic kitchen a few weeks previously "I have done nothing for you in return but …" She stopped then, looking almost guilty to be asking for anything more from him.
"Sister," he practically whispered back "anything I can do for you, you ought to know I am happy to do it."
Sister Bernadette took a deep breath and spoke again.
"I wondered Doctor, if you would be available to take me to the sanatorium tomorrow, I know the Sisters would happily pay for a taxi or public transport, but the truth is," a sob broke in her throat "I don't feel that I can go alone."
"Of course Sister, I could not live with myself if I let you go alone" He said instantly and the instinct to take her hand rose in him again, only this time he did nothing to stop himself. He reached over and placed his hands over hers, he thought she would snatch her hands away, he wouldn't have blamed her for that, but instead she smiled up at him and he could hardly believe it when he felt her hands unclasp and ever so briefly hold his hands instead of her own. He smiled back and then squeezed her hands lightly before letting go and returning them to the gear stick and the key, which sat unturned in the ignition.
"Ready Sister?" he asked gently.
She nodded at him and took the envelope back from him, she looked back at the letter, at the X ray plates from the mobile clinic and the hospital, then she placed them back into the envelope. Looking again would not change the results they showed.
Dr Turner turned the key in the ignition and the car spluttered into life, he moved the car into gear and was surprised when Sister Bernadette's hand found his on the gear stick, her fingers interlinked slightly with his and her voice shook slightly.
"Thank you, Doctor Turner" she whispered.