Hannah's chapter:

Doreen walked gingerly, almost silently, down the lino flooring that lead to the doctor's waiting area.

The pregnancy was meant to be the happiest moment of her life. Yet, it wasn't. The father of the child had left her; alone without any funds. She had no friends in this part of London, everything was new and scary to her. She had no one to turn to. This feeling of loneliness was made worse when she fell ill, just after finding out she was pregnant. Today, she was to see the doctor and find out what was wrong. How she wished her own mother was here, to hold her hand and keep her safe. But she wasn't. And nor was her father.

She had to go alone.

Opening one of the doors, she walked into the bright long corridor, with a desk towards the left, just in front of a large window. Behind the desk sat a sharply dressed woman, who looked up, smiled and waved her further into the room.

Doreen coughed into her handkerchief before stating her name to the receptionist. She was then lead to sit on a chair, whilst the petite woman walked round the corridor to fetch a glass of water to ease Doreen's burning throat.

Once the water was given to her, she gulped the whole glass down quickly, drawing a quick glance from the receptionist as she took the glass back with a gentle smile.

A little while later, one of the doors at the furthest end of the room opened. Out stepped the familiar Doctor, who she had seen before, in his dark suit and white coat over the top.

"Miss Knight?" He called

She winced at the sound of her maiden name. She had planned to get married to Eric, but he had got carried away with her one night, thus the baby had been made, and once he found out, he didn't want to know her anymore.

Breathing heavily, she heaved herself up from the hard, wooden chair, with still over two months of her pregnancy left, and followed the doctor into his office. Only casually noticing the way he looked over at the woman at the desk first, the pain and sorrow in his eyes missed by Doreen.

She sat down, carefully, onto the cushioned chair whilst he sat opposite her with the large desk in between them.

"Now," He started, staring beyond her obviously distracted, "You've come for the news from your set of tests?"

She nodded meekly.

He took a sharp breath in, and laid both his hands on the desk. He looked at her directly in the eye, yet this was no comfort to her.

"I'm afraid it's Tuberculosis."

She felt her blood run cold. She had heard of the disease before. The disease that could be treated if it was caught early enough, but, if it was too late, she didn't have long.

"I'm sorry." That was all he had to say. They both knew what it meant. It was her death sentence.

Having been told that when she was to give birth, she would have to in the maternity home, Doreen had expected the ambulance to arrive, along with one of the midwives from Nonnatus House.

Into her house came only Nurse Franklin, with the ambulance men waiting outside. The nurse took off her coat, gloves and hat, now that she was in the warmth.

"Now, sweetie, let's take a look" She said warmly, and moved the pillows on the bed so that Doreen could lay down comfortably. Trixie examined her, and although Doreen was weak, but the baby seemed healthy, and that was one of the most important things. If the mother couldn't survive, as the grave expectations were, the baby was the next priority.

Doreen was safely transferred to the maternity home, arriving in just under an hour, her contractions only a few minutes apart. Patrick had already scrubbed up, ready for the birth of a child, and possibility of the death of a mother.

It was a difficult labour- for both the mother, and those involved. Doreen was growing increasingly weak, and found she had little energy to push. The baby had to be delivered quickly, or their chance of survival would be as little as that of Doreen's.

Bit, by bit, Doctor Turner and Trixie helped her deliver the baby, a little girl, so tiny she could be held in one hand.

Doreen, however, never had the chance to name her baby, or even hold her.

Patrick felt her pulse gradually weaken as the infant in Nurse Franklin's arms wriggled and mewed slightly.

Barely seconds later, he hung his head, in sorrow. Tears welling up in his eyes. The impact of his TB patient had reached home as soon as he had heard Miss Knight contracted the disease, yet he had pulled through. Until this moment.