A/N: These characters do not belong to me! I've had this idea for a while: I intend to continue it if people enjoy it. Please favourite and/or review if you did enjoy it.

"So, when were you planning to tell me ?"

Timothy Turner leant forward on his elbows, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded the breakfast table. The effect his words had was remarkable. Shelagh Turner paused suddenly in her preparation of Angela's breakfast, spilling milk all over the stacks of plates in the sink, while her husband, who was caught in the act of sitting down, almost fell off of his chair. Only Angela was unaffected, cooing to herself and gracing her brother with an angelic smile that, it has to be said, was very rarely given in the mornings. Tim rattled on.

"See, it's been over a week since I noticed. And I obviously wanted to give you two space, but both of you should naturally know by now – the trained eye and all that. So I was just wondering why I haven't been informed. Surely I'm mature enough?"

Tim leant back in his chair, rather proud of that little speech and blissfully unaware of the chaos he had caused with his parents.

"I…I'm sorry dear, what on earth do you mean?" Shelagh couldn't figure out what Tim was talking about. She moved slowly to sit down, her mind racing and yet coming up with no possible solutions. The trained eye? That made no sense…

On the opposite side of the table, Patrick was filled with visions of countless cigarettes smoked during that first outpouring of news about Thalidomide. He'd been feeling guilty for weeks about the number he'd smoked during that dark week, and the brief but brutal breaking of the promise he'd made to his son. Despite this scenario not fitting to Tim's speech, or his congratulatory tone of voice, this was the conclusion Patrick's mind first jumped to. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up (Shelagh found this trait of his adorable, as it always made him look slightly shocked and quite frankly, pretty funny) and sighed.

Tim gazed from one of his parents to the other, trying to discover the truth of the matter. His mother looked utterly lost at sea, while his father's facial expression did not indicate the good news Tim was referring to. It was incomprehensible that they did not know. And yet… He grinned to himself, grabbing his bag from the door and giving both Shelagh and Patrick a swift hug. He then moved to Angela, kissing the top of her head and whispering:

"Our parents can be real idiots, can't they?"

Angela giggled (she had just discovered the word 'idiot', much to the dismay of her parents and the delight of her older brother). Patrick raised an eyebrow, but was too absorbed in trying to work out the riddle in Tim's words to react properly. Shelagh appeared to be so intent on staring at the table that she hadn't heard his words; no scolding for the use of 'idiot' around Angela seemed forthcoming.

Tim reached the door. He turned and cleared his throat, pleased to see he had the attention of both his parents. He took a deep breath.

"Well, I do hope you will have figured it out when I return from school. You are a doctor and a midwife after all. The symptoms have rather been staring us in th face " With these illuminating words, he grabbed his hat and swung out of the door, shaking his head at the utter stupidity of adults. Leaving his parents to stare at each other in shock.

"Doctor," Shelagh whispered, at the same time Patrick whispered 'Midwife." Their eyes met, and each knew the other was thinking the same thought. Pregnant. Surely...

"How does Tim know?" Patrick gazed around the room frantically, almost as if trying to spot a poster proclaiming the news his son claimed to have knowledge of. He tried to think of symptoms, of signs, of anything that could give him proof. He muttered under his breath, cursing himself for not being too attentive to his wife over the last month. Tim had mentioned she felt sick a couple of nights last week, but he hadn't thought it implied anything bigger...

Meanwhile, Shelagh was dangerously quiet. All she could think of was the word impossible, spinning around and around and around in her head. Impossible. They had said that. That meant definite, didn't it? Meant there was no chance at all? She swayed, reaching out for support, and found Patrick's hand as he gently pulled her to lean against him, stroking her hair.

"Did you have any idea?" he murmured, after a pause. She shook her head, and she knew that he too had been stunned by Timothy's revelation.

"How?"

Shelagh knew that her husband wasn't addressing her, but the world in general, the diagnosis, the TB even. Her thoughts echoed her husband. How? She didn't want to believe, didn't want to set herself up for heartbreak, but even as her hands moved to her stomach she knew. She knew what the sudden bouts of nausea meant that she had been so careful to hide from Patrick so he didn't worry. She knew what the dizziness meant that had often left Tim to take care of his younger sister while Patrick had spent hours and hours at the surgery, tormenting himself over Thalidomide. She knew what the frequent rushing to the toilet meant that she had put down to drinking too much tea, but Tim obviously had not. They would have noticed, would have known, if it wasn't for that blasted diagnosis. Impossible.

"I think we should call someone from Nonnatus House, dear. Preferably Trixie" Shelagh smiled up at Patrick, and when he nodded and smiled back, it was as if everything that was wrong in her world was made right again.

"How on earth didn't we notice?" His voice had lost the fear and confusion of only five minutes ago. Now it was filled with wonder, excitement and nervousness. He, they, couldn't be let down again.

The silence following his question was interrupted by a cry of 'Mummy!' and both Shelagh and Patrick grinned.

"There is your answer." Shelagh smiled, and got up to tend to her daughter slowly, giggling at Patrick. "I can see you trying to evaluate me there Dr Turner! I thought I asked you to call Trixie."

"Alright ma'am. I do hope we don't get six months of this bossiness," Patrick teased, his eyes more alight at this good news than Shelagh had seen them in the past month.

"I'll take as many months of whatever I can get." She whispered the words, feeling the tone of their conversation change and shaking as she felt his arms steady her. "I want this to be true so badly Patrick."

He kissed her gently. "I know darling. I know" They stayed in silence for a moment, each safe in each other's arms. Shelagh never wanted to move, not from this warm kitchen with the spilled milk in the sink and a sleepy daughter and the best husband in the world. The aforementioned husband felt rather the same.

Patrick broke the moment first. "I should go love. Not only do I have patients to serve, if we don't get confirmation from at least one midwife by Tim's return, he'll give up on us as medical professionals entirely!" She smiled, leaning against him for one more precious moment, before watching him move to the phone, laughing softly.

Shelagh smiled after him. Impossible indeed. She rested her hands lightly on her stomach, feeling what she knew was an almost imperceptible bump. The Turners would show them exactly how impossible this was.