Author's note: A Call the Midwife future fic that I had so much fun writing I don't even care if it sucks. Written right after Series 3, so longer canon at all. Sister E is still alive and Cynthia is still a nurse, not a nun.

Angela Turner raced down the steps of Poplar Grammar, school bag banging against her knees. It was Tuesday. Next to Saturday, when she and Mum did the shopping together, and Sunday, when Dad wasn't working and would sometimes play tea party or Candyland with her, Tuesday was her favorite day.

Tuesdays were "clinic" day, an important day for her parents, since her dad was a doctor and Mum, his receptionist. For Angela, this meant she got to spend the afternoon at the community centre instead of at home, and that instead of Mum waiting outside the school, Tim would be there to walk her. She searched the crowd for the tall, lanky shadow of her older brother.

"Oi, Angie, over here." She spotted him slouching against the school gates, away from the mothers waiting for children, and ran up to him.

"Tim, guess what? Today we learned a new song for school assembly and Miss said I had such a pretty voice, because I've been practicing with Mum and –"

"All right, all right, you can tell me on the way. C'mon, we've got to hurry or I'll be late for cricket practice again."

She slipped her hand into his and he frowned down at her.

"Mum says you have to hold my hand when we cross the street," she said.

He shrugged, but his grip tightened slightly on her fingers. "I know."

She chattered constantly during the short walk to the community centre – about the school assembly, her best friend Emily's new kitten and the giant stack of books she'd checked out from the library. As usual, Tim just shrugged or grunted in reply, until she mentioned Mum's idea that they all go on a picnic Saturday.

He stopped walking. "This Saturday?"

"Uh-huh. Mum said you don't have cricket – "

"I don't, but I've got – " He ran his hand self-consciously through his shaggy hair. "Something else."

Angela frowned at her brother's sudden odd behavior. "What?"

He shrugged, and she pulled on his hand. "Timmy, what?"

"Don't call me Timmy! I've got a – a date."

She gaped at him. "With a girl?"

"Yes, with a girl!" He scowled and tugged at her hand. "C'mon."

Angela knew something about dating from Emily, who had a much older sister. Apparently it involved getting a boy to take you out for dinner and then afterwards you had to let him kiss you. But she couldn't imagine Tim ever doingthat. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Are you gonna kiss her?"

Tim's face flushed as pink as her dress. "What? No – I don't know. How you know about kissing? You're six!"

"Emily told me. She said her sister gets kissed a lot."

"Well, I'm not gonna kiss her. We're just going to a film anyway." They'd reached the community centre, but he stopped her again before going inside. "Listen, you can't tell Mum, all right? Not yet. She'll just get all mushy and cry or something."

Angela nodded solemnly. Mum did tend to cry at the oddest things, like when Tim taught her how to play 'Chopsticks' on the piano as a surprise. It was supposed to make Mum happy, and she'd hugged her and said she was – so happy and proud – but Angela saw her reach for a tissue afterwards.

"And not Dad either." Tim scowled. "He won't let me do anything until I pass these bloody exams. Promise?"

She nodded again, slower this time. Tim had never asked her to keep a secret before.

But if going on a date would make Mum cry and Dad angry, he probably shouldn't be doing it...should he?

She should tell somebody. Not her parents – that would be breaking her promise – but someone…else.

She knew exactly the person.