"Yeah, 'er. She's 'itched up with that Doctor Turner! I 'eard 'about it from 'is son, and then from my William after Cubs the other night. She's probably going to see 'em now. She shes 'em a lot apparently!"
"Bet there's not a lot of the Doctor she hasn't seen!"
Shelagh could hear all the women laughing between themselves, and felt their ice-cold stares as she walked down the road. This was now her normal, daily life. She flitted between convalescing at the boarding house, and sitting with Timothy, and was in constant hearing distance of the whisperings about the relationship between herself and Patrick. Usually, the harsh comments were made, meaning she'd have to quickly blow her nose and check her red-rimmed eyes before she found Timothy sitting at the table in the Turner's living room. Today was no different.
Checking her face in the bathroom mirror, once again, she put the used tissue in the bin and breathed deeply, steadying her shaky breaths.
"Shelagh!" Timothy called from the dining table as she walked into the living room. Today his maths homework had to be done, and he hated it. Shelagh knew that he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it for long, so decided to fix him some tea and biscuits. Also allowing her more time to allow her emotions to settle. As the wedding drew nearer, she felt more and more anxious about the thoughts of others toward them as a couple. They weren't just strangers. They were patients, patients that her fiance would likely to meet in the clinic or maternity home, if they hadn't already. And she knew, as much as she loved Patrick and Timothy, she couldn't face it if their family didn't have the support of their community. Without it, many of the potential, and current, patients would choose to see another Doctor, meaning Patrick would be losing work.
One thing that mattered to Shelagh more than the thoughts and feelings of the community around her, were that of the members of Nonnatus House. She had known the nuns for ten years; most of the nurses for three or four. They had become a close-knit group, but rarely were their feelings shared between each other, the nuns, especially. But now, they would be free to express their thoughts, as Sister Evangelina already had, as well as Sister Monica Joan. But above all, Shelagh wanted to hear from Sister Julienne, yet she had been hard to catch. When Shelagh briefly visited Nonnatus, waiting for her fiance to finish work there, the Sister was either just about to go out the door for home visits, or she thought she heard the telephone ring, or sometimes she had paperwork to do.
Once the cup was filled with tea, she placed some biscuits on a plate, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she walked through to the sofa.
"Auntie Shelagh?" Timothy took one look at Shelagh and realised something was wrong. He knew, without her saying anything to him or his father, that something had been wrong for the last few days. But never before had she looked so distraught, or as Timothy liked to say, 'down in the dumps'.
She turned to him, plastering a wide grin on her face, but neither one of them could be fooled. They both knew that it was fake; that she was heartbroken inside.
She couldn't do it anymore. Something inside her pulled an emotional rope, and the tears suddenly flowed from her eyes, cascading rapidly down her cheeks, too quickly to try and catch with her sleeve. She heavily fell into the sofa cushion, pulling her knees up to her chest, hugging them.
Timothy could do nothing but stare at the woman, who was usually like a rock to him, but now, she was crumbling apart.
He silently got up from his chair, bringing the cup of tea with him, placing it on the table in front of the sofa. Gingerly, he sat next to her, and put his hand over hers. A loving gesture that he remembered his father doing many years ago, when he was young.
Almost instantly the tears stopped falling. But the heartbreak stayed. How could she tell him?