This will hopefully be a multi-chapter fic, depending on the response to this chapter and the next one (which I am writing) These are essentially my fangirl dreams, so I hope you enjoy them (but I hope even more that they come true!). If you want to, then please review - any comments/criticism gladly received.

It seemed that half of Poplar wanted to come to the wedding. The chapel could only hold so many though, so pride of place was given to the Sisters and Nurses, as well as the few family members that remained on either side. Outside was a different matter. The corner outside Nonnatus House was packed with well wishers, and the streets were lined with hordes of people: families carrying confetti, young mothers and old standing together with children running between their legs, and, right by the front door, the Cub Scouts. They were getting ready for another performance and trying not to look too bored while they waited for the happy couple to emerge. This time the song had been chosen by one of their own and, unfortunately, there would be no costumes or playfighting (although Fred had liberally – and unwisely - given out confetti for them to throw). Jenny Lee looked out from one of the windows at the crowds and couldn't help beaming. The happy couple would be amazed when they saw how much they were loved, she was sure, and no one deserved such happiness more. There was a quiet cough behind her, and she turned to see Shelagh standing in front of her, holding her arms out.

"Do you think I'll look acceptable?" she asked shyly.

Neither Jenny, Cynthia nor Trixie could get any words out. All three stood there, jaws slack, trying to understand the transformation. It was a simple and understated dress, but all the more beautiful for it. Plain white satin, with a high neck and long sleeves. The skirt had no long train, and didn't flare out significantly at the waist. But the embroidery worked over the bodice and the lace cuffs gave it another layer of beauty entirely. There were intricate patterns in the shapes of hearts and vines, as well as sweetheart roses hidden within, hinting at something deep and hidden for those who cared to look. The lace on the sleeves had been made generations ago by hardy Scottish women, always intended for a dress and woman as beautiful as this. Whether they would have anticipated that she was a former Nun in East End London was more doubtful.

After what seemed an eternity, it was Trixie who finally broke the almost holy silence, with more than a hit of tears in her voice.

"Oh Shelagh, you look – beautiful!" she sighed.

Shelagh blushed. "Thank you, it was my mother's dress. I never thought I would wear it myself."

"How could you have worn that habit for so long? You have such a wonderful figure you know."

Raising her eyebrow, Shelagh replied "I don't think the intention of habits is to show off someone's "figure", Trixie."

It was Trixie's turn to blush. "I know, but...well."

Cynthia, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, smiled at Trixie's rare abashment. "You look just like Grace Kelly when she married her Prince."

"In a way, I...feel I am" said Shelagh, quietly.

Before the three nurses could pester her more, there was a knock on the door.

"If you three don't go and get ready now, you won't get out until the reception, and I can't promise to save you any cake!"

"Coming Sister Evangelina!" they chorused, and slipped out of the room leaving Shelagh alone with her mirror and only their whispers of good luck and a hug from Cynthia.

She stared at the mirror in front of her and adjusted her glasses, thinking hard. It had not been so long ago since she gazed at it with a very different expression. She well remembered those days of fear and loss –like a gaping hole with one safety net, which didn't seem strong enough to support her. The Nurses always seemed to be enjoying themselves and living freely, and she had become so trapped in the convent; the rituals began to lose the comfort they had always held for her, and finally she lost sight of the path she had tried so hard to stick to. Her habit felt constrictive, her faith was shaking – yet still she held on. Even when she fell in love with Dr Turner, for a long time she forced herself to deny it. Nuns don't fall in love with Doctors, and she had so wanted to be a true Nun. But then had come that one day when he had taken her hand, and since then she'd known deep down what she needed to do. It scared her, certainly, and the looks of shock when she told the Nurses her plans were almost enough to make her falter, but this was her path. Ordained by God to be followed by her. It was a way of love, and in that she would find strength. Her eyes blazed with it today: with love, and hope, and - something missing for so long – happiness.

There was another knock at the door.

"Shelagh, my dear, may I come in?"

"Of course!" she smiled, and turned round, adjusting her glasses shyly.

Sister Julienne came in slowly, dressed in her traditional habit (specially washed and pressed for the occasion). She carried a bouquet, which she had been given the honour of preparing. Shelagh and Patrick wanted to keep everything simple, and so she willingly obliged them - but remembering her mother's advice to her in her youth before her own path was clear, had carefully selected the flowers to symbolise the true love between them. When she'd thought of her own wedding in those days, this was the bouquet she had dreamed of, and it seemed perfect for the happy couple today. There was Lily of the Valley, for sweetness and humility, Orange Blossom for tradition, White Phlox for united souls and Honeysuckle for devoted affection. She hoped sincerely that the prophesies made by the flowers would come true - but having seen the couple together she could have no real doubt of it. Julienne passed the bouquet over to the bride, who sniffed and wiped away a tear.

"Oh Sister, it's perfect" she whispered.

"As are you today, my dear."

Shelagh reverentially placed her bouquet on the table under her mirror and turned back to face her again. Before Julienne could question it, she carefully knelt, lifting the dress off the floor as she did so.

"Would you give me your blessing Sister? I know you'll give it again later, but I would greatly appreciate it."

Sister Julienne, overwhelmed with emotion, gave the blessing as well as she could. Then, before she knew it, Shelagh was hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so much for everything you've done for me."

"You are like a daughter to me my dear. I will always help you with whatever path you need to take. I am honestly glad that God spoke to you truly and you didn't go to Chichester. It would have been a great loss to Poplar – and an even greater one to your Doctor. You three will be very happy together." Sister Julienne could go no further. The tears were coming thick and fast, and she could only hold Shelagh tight and pray for her. Finally, they heard another knock at the door, and Sister Evangelina poked her head around again, smiling at what she saw.

"Everyone is ready."

"Then we must go." Julienne smiled, wiping her tears and straightening her cross. Shelagh pulled her veil into place again and carefully straightened it in the mirror, making sure the antique lace wasn't twisted or fraying. Having done so, she picked up the bouquet, closed her eyes briefly for a second to pray silently, and turned to the door.

"I'm ready."