The Letters of Timothy

Chapter One: The First Letter of Timothy

Based upon Call the Midwife, written by Jennifer Worth, developed by Heidi Thomas.

- - Turner Residence, February 1963 - -

Patrick was certainly enjoying the scene of domestic bliss that surrounded him. His wife and daughter were sitting at the dining room table, drawing. Drawing and giggling. He sat on the sofa with his infant son settled in to the crook of his arm, reading the latest copy of The Lancet. The only thing missing was his older son, who was out doing whatever it was young men did nowadays.

Young men and young women. Patrick had it on good authority that Timothy was walking out with Caroline Gillespie.

A fire burned in their fireplace, bathing the room with warmth; a welcome respite to the cold they still had yet to become accustomed to.

Patrick looked down at Teddy, who yawned and cuddled closer. Patrick smiled and stuck two fingers beneath the boy's collar, making sure he was warm enough, but not too warm. Satisfied with the temperature of his skin, Patrick turned back to his reading.

With a great deal of suddenness, the front door opened, a cold gust blew in, and the door was quickly slammed shut.

Teddy was startled by the noise and looked up at Patrick, which an expression that asked whether or not he should burst into tears. Patrick smiled and rubbed Teddy's leg, calming him.

Tim stomped into the living room, sans coat and boots.

"I thought you were out with Caroline," Shelagh asked.

"Well, I'm not," Tim snapped.

"Tim," Patrick used his tone to warn his son.

"What happened?"

"She packed me in!"

"What?" "Why?" he and his wife exclaimed.

Tim's face contorted in anger and confusion. "Because of Angela!" He stormed out of the room.

There was a stunned silence in the room for a moment, a moment which Teddy took the opportunity to commence wailing. Shelagh stood to follow Timothy.

Patrick stood as well. He offered her the baby. "You take this one, I'll take that one." He went up to his son's room, pausing outside for just a moment. He wanted to give the boy a little time. He knocked softly and entered the room, finding his son sitting at his desk, staring at the ceiling.

"May I sit down?"

"I'm sorry for shouting," he said.

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed. "If your mother and I rely on you too much with your siblings, you can tell me. We'll work something out."

Timothy shook his head. "No, that's not it. I love caring for them. And I want them to have more time with family than I did."

Patrick tilted his head to the side sympathetically. "Oh, Tim. I'm sorry."

Timothy shook his head. "I'm not. It was hard for me to be by myself, but that's what got us Mum." He smiled softly.

Patrick smiled back at his son. "Would you like to talk about what happened with Caroline, then?"

Timothy was silent, gathering his thoughts. "We were studying at her flat. It was fine. She's very good at maths."

Patrick listened patiently, allowing his son to get to the matter at hand in his own time.

"But her little sister and brothers started getting rowdy," he paused to look back at Patrick. "You know she has 3 little brothers?" Patrick nodded. "I recommended we go to the surgery. It's quiet there, after hours." Tim took a deep breath. "We saw Nurse Mount when we arrived and I told her we would be in your office. And we continued with our homework. I didn't notice anything was different."

"Different than what?"

"How it usually is."

Patrick still didn't understand, but felt that his interruption had not been helpful.

"After a while, Nurse Mount popped in and told us she was leaving, but would be back in a few hours if anyone needed anything. She reminded us to call Nonnatus if anything happened." Tim's mouth contorted in discomfort. "That's when we started kissing."

Patrick couldn't help his eyebrows shoot up. He schooled them quickly. He was almost afraid of where this was going, his mind racing through the multitude of horrible possibilities. He did have the brief thought that his son and grandson would be a year apart, but immediately pushed the thought aside. Shelagh was too young to be a grandmother. He cleared his throat. "So, what happened."

"Nothing," Timothy said.

The silence loomed for a moment. Timothy turned in his chair to face his father, suddenly looking very mature indeed. "She wanted to . . . But I didn't . . . And I tried to tell her why, but she wouldn't listen." He fumed for a second. She just picked up her things, said that I didn't love her, that she never wanted to see me again and she stormed out." Timothy looked at his shoes for a second. "I tried to explain to her why, but she left too quickly."

Timothy's shoulders slumped, and he took something off his desk to keep his hands busy, suddenly looking like the forlorn child he was.

Patrick was relieved, but didn't let on. "What did you try to tell her?"

"That the only thing I could think of was Angela."

Patrick's brow furrowed, he didn't follow.

"I am the same age as her mother was when she was born."

Patrick thought this might be the first time Tim referred to someone other than Shelagh as Angela's mother.

"And we know nothing about her father."

Patrick was sure this was the first time they had thought about Angela's father.

"We don't even know if her dad wanted her." He paused. "And I kept thinking, what if Caroline got pregnant? Would she want a baby? Would her parents let her keep it? Would either of us have a say?"

Patrick considered it for a moment. What would they do? He didn't have to think very long, he knew the answer. "Your mother and I will do whatever it takes. If you wanted to keep the baby, we would support you. If Caroline's parents didn't, we would either take her in or adopt the baby ourselves; if you wanted us to." Patrick watched the expression of relief come over Tim's face.

"You're right, Tim. Adoption is a wonderful thing, but it can be very painful. And marrying at your age isn't ideal either; but if she wanted to keep the baby, it's better than the alternative."

Tim smirked. "It's not like I have any plans."

Patrick smiled. "Isn't that what we're talking about? Things happening without plans?"

Tim ducked his head for a second, slightly embarrassed. "Mum used to be a nun. I have to keep on my best behavior so as not to spoil her reputation."

Patrick chuckled and the room fell silent again.

"What should I do about Caroline?" Tim finally asked.

"Why don't you write her a letter?"

Timothy gave his father an incredulous look.

"Writing a heart-felt letter to a girl explaining yourself goes a long way. It shows them that you're thoughtful and caring: things girls love."

Tim smirked.

"And you can give her the family history, which will make her feel like you're trusting her with some important family details; they like that too." Patrick paused, thinking of how to admit to his son that he wrote countless love-letters to a nun. "When I wrote to your mum in the sanatorium, I told her about your first mum, and our marriage. And her sickness, and what it was like for the two of us after she died. I told her that seeing her often made days better, and that seeing the two of you together made me happier than I had been in a long time. And I told her she would always have a place here, regardless of the choice she made." Patrick smiled at his son, "I think they were successful, don't you?"

"Maybe," Timothy grinned at Patrick. "I'm the one who sent her a butterfly."

- - End Chapter One - -