Author's note: A two-part, pre-series 3 fic, based on birthdays.
"Dad, could I get a bike? Jack got one last year and Rob just got one for his birthday and I still don't have one."
"Maybe for your birthday then. We'll see," Patrick said, winking at Shelagh across the table. He liked being able to use "we" with her.
"But that's not for ages!" Tim frowned. "Shelagh, when's your birthday?"
Patrick scoffed. "You can't get a present for her birthday, you know that's not how it works." He grinned at her again, but panic gripped his insides. When was her birthday? He'd never asked. He'd asked her to marry him, they were going to live together, be husband and wife, and hopefully raise a family, but he had no clue when her birthday was. He had a vague idea it might be sometime in the fall or winter – he remembered there'd been some rather good cake at Nonnatus. But there was always cake at Nonnatus!
"It's the first of next month," she said, slight hesitation in her voice.
"That's next Friday," Timothy exclaimed. "That's a week away. How old will you be?"
Patrick sputtered into his tea, partly from his son's question and partly from the realization that he had a week to find his fiancée a suitable present.
"It's all right, Patrick, I don't mind. I'll be 33, Timothy." She paused slightly before saying her age, as if she had to add it up in her head. When was the last time she'd really celebrated a birthday?
The boy shrugged and went back to finishing his pudding. "That's not as old as Dad. But his birthday's not until March."
"Thanks, son," he said dryly. Shelagh chuckled.
"I'm sorry, I feel terrible," he said later as they relaxed in the sitting room together, Timothy having gone up to bed.
Shelagh set down her teacup and frowned. "About what Patrick?"
"Your birthday. I never even asked when it was."
"No, I should have told you. With all the excitement lately, I just wasn't sure when to bring it up." She looked down at the engagement ring on her finger and smiled. He'd proposed only a few days ago, and it still didn't feel quite real. "And it's only a birthday. At the convent, we'd usually just have a good tea – and cake, of course."
"Do you want to celebrate at Nonnatus?" They'd seen the nuns and nurses recently at Freddie's christening. Sister Julienne had embraced them both after Shelagh told her of their engagement, but he thought he'd sensed some unease, at least from Shelagh. She'd been quieter than usual afterwards.
"No," she said quickly. "I'd rather celebrate with you and Timothy."
The way she said "you and Timothy" made him grin like an idiot – but he'd been doing a lot of that these days. He took her hand and kissed it, another habit he'd taken up ever since he proposed. "All right then."
Patrick Turner sat in his car outside his house, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It was late and he'd just returned from taking Shelagh back to her lodgings, but he wasn't ready to go inside yet. He needed time and quiet to think, and his car was as good a place as any for that.
Shelagh's birthday was in two days and he still hadn't settled on a proper present. There would be flowers, of course, and a cake, provided by Mrs. B., and a romantic dinner out, but he wanted to give her some small token of his affection. He could ask her what she wanted, but he suspected she'd either insist that she didn't want anything or give him practical suggestions, like a new sewing basket. It was her birthday, her first birthday spent with him instead of amongst the nuns and nurses, and he wanted to surprise her with something that would please her.
But what?
Clothing or hats of any kind were out of the question. He was rubbish when it came to all things fashion, and he knew Shelagh preferred to pick that sort of thing out herself. Likewise with jewelry. He didn't know what she liked. It had taken him nearly two hours just to pick out her engagement ring, and while he'd nibbled her ears several times, he'd never even noticed if they were pierced (In his defense, he had been rather distracted). Perfume was a possibility, though he rather liked the way she smelled without it - soft soap and lavender.
Had she ever hinted at something she wanted when he wasn't paying attention? He got out of the car, trudged up the steps and let himself in the quiet house. Maybe if he spent time in a room where they'd been time together, he'd remember something.
But once he'd settled on the sofa, cigarette in hand, the only thing he could think of was that evening, when he'd arrived home to find Shelagh and Timothy crouched on the floor of the sitting room, their small collection of records spread out around them.
"Dad, what happened to Mum's records, the classical music ones?" Tim asked. "Shelagh's been helping me a bit with my piano and she said listening to the music sometimes helps, so you can hear how it's supposed to sound when you play it."
He rubbed his hand over his hair self-consciously. "I think those were the ones I gave to Granny Parker, Tim. I'm sorry."
He'd given most of Margaret's records, clothes and jewelry to her mother after she'd died. He kept only a few small items – her wedding ring, a scarf she'd loved and photographs from their wedding day – in a box in the back of his wardrobe. At first, it had been so reminders of her wouldn't sneak up on him unawares, but now it was just for comfort, so he always knew where to find her.
Shelagh's smile was full of sad understanding. "It's all right. I think Sister Julienne has a copy of the one you need, Tim. Maybe you can ask to borrow it? We can listen to something else after dinner."
"But you've listened to all of those twice already," Tim said and Shelagh blushed. Patrick hadn't realized she'd been exploring his rather meager music collection so thoroughly and felt a bit embarrassed. Though he loved music – he'd played the piano as a younger man – he hadn't had time to really enjoy it for years.
"Well, third times' the charm," he teased her. "Or maybe you could play for us after dinner, Tim."
Tim rolled his eyes and muttered something about being hungry, so they'd all moved to the kitchen to eat. Afterwards, they'd ended up playing Scrabble until Tim went to bed, and then he and Shelagh curled up on the sofa to listen to the radio until he took her home.
At the time, Patrick hadn't thought much of their conversation about the records, but now it gave him an idea. And Shelagh might just like it.