Shelagh hurriedly shut the door of Nonnatus House behind her, shutting out the bitter cold of a snow-shrouded day. Once inside she was instantly warmed by the sight which greeted her; evidently her colleagues had been busy while she had been otherwise engaged in her home visits.
The corridor stretching before her was decked in swathes of colourful paper chains which Chummy's scout troop had diligently and lovingly created for the Parish Hall and the House. A demolition notice on the two buildings had been served the day after she and Patrick had become engaged. It had sent shockwaves through the community and everyone had rallied round, determined to make sure that the nuns and nurses were afforded one last interlude of Christmas cheer in their home before the order to vacate the premises took effect on 4th January.
Now they were all focused on making the most of their remaining tenure while simultaneously making plans to move into the new building which the Order had acquired. As Sister Julienne had counselled a tearful Jane "We've all lived through worse, we'll live through this."
At the far end of the corridor Shelagh could hear the murmur of conversation and she gladly made her way towards the welcoming voices, keen to partake in a cup of hot, sweet tea and one of Mrs B's legendary mince pies.
As she neared the kitchen she was stopped in her tracks by a fit of giggling coming from the parlour. She hovered outside the door, curious as to what the occasion for all the merriment might be. "Shhh!" she heard in a not-so-subtle whisper which she immediately identified as Trixie's: "The nuns are only in the kitchen, we don't want them to get wind of this. You're not to say anything until we show them both in here after tea. I'll ask her to help me decorate the branches and then I'll tell Dr Turner that I can't reach the top of the tree with the angel. Then we'll tell them to look up, and hey presto! They'll have no choice!"
She heard another stifled giggle and Jenny's voice chimed in: "You are a terrible influence Beatrix Franklin, but I must admit I'm dying to see how they'll react."
"Jenny!" Cynthia admonished, "You're almost as bad as Trixie!"
"Oh come on Cynthia, it's only a bit of fun," Jenny protested, "I'm sure they won't mind."
Trixie joined in in an indignant whisper: "Yes, stop being such a boring old so-and-so Cynthia Miller! They are getting married in two weeks after all. Besides, it's high time the good doctor kissed his bride-to-be. Now pass me that mistletoe before I fall off this ladder and ladder my best stockings."
Through the frosted glass of the door Shelagh saw Cynthia hand something up to a figure perched on the top rung of Fred's stepladder.
"Even so, you really shouldn't put them on the spot like that Trixie," Cynthia continued. "It's not fair on them! I think it's absolutely lovely that they're together and a Christmas wedding is wonderful - it's so romantic! Maybe they want to save their first kiss for their wedding day. How do we even know this would be their first kiss anyway?"
An exasperated sigh from Trixie was followed by an equally exasperated explanation: "Of course it is! All he ever does is kiss her hand when he comes in and then again when he leaves. Sometimes I think they're too old-fashioned for their own good!"
"But..." Cynthia started to protest, until she was interrupted by Chummy: "I can see why they are though - it's why they never sneak off together in private; they're afraid it will just lead to more gossip. Well I for one think they bally-well deserve some happiness! And if this little idea of Trixie's gives them a little taste of that happiness then let the gossips be damned!"
Stood as still as a statue in the corridor, a fond smile spread across Shelagh's features at her friend's fierce condemnation of the weight of other's opinions. She knew how much Chummy had agonised over the expectations of her own Mother in particular - a pressure so great that she had almost ended things with Peter before they had properly begun. It was a lesson Shelagh had taken heed of and she found herself amused and touched in equal measure by the young midwives' plans to engineer a display of affection between herself and Patrick.
He was due at Nonnatus House within the next five - or knowing her fiancé, more likely fifteen - minutes to take tea with them all. She turned away quietly so as not to alert either the nuns or the midwives to her presence and stole back down the corridor to await his arrival. Ten minutes later she heard the familiar chug of the MG's engine and slipped out of the front door to intercept him on the steps.
His first reaction was concern rather than surprise, and he had stripped off his coat to bundle it around her before she could even greet him properly or offer up an explanation. "You'll catch your death out here!" he exclaimed, ushering her back in through the front door. She hushed him as soon as they were inside, a firm finger held against his lips before he could continue with his concerned admonition.
"Shhh! I was waiting inside until I heard your car. I need you to help me play a trick on someone..." He looked at her questioningly, simultaneously relieved and intrigued by her good humour. She shrugged off his coat and handed it back to him, their fingers brushing as she did so. She noticed him shiver at the contact and smiled as she thought back to earlier that same day...
To be continued...
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