Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of Heidi Thomas, Neal Street Productions, Jennifer Worth & the BBC. No copyright infringement is intended.

Ready?" he asked proudly, proffering his elbow for Angela to link her arm through his.

"You look like an angel," he whispered as the music struck up and heads began to turn.

They were met with smiles and gasps with every step, the beautiful simplicity of the bride's gown and the glowing beauty of the bride herself causing ripples of delight to echo down the aisle.

He recalled how he had walked down this very same aisle twenty-five years previously; it had been one of the happiest days of his life.

As they approached the altar, the groom finally gave in to the murmurs of approval and turned to watch his bride's final few steps, drawing in a deep breath as his eyes swept towards her, his face a mixture of awe and love and excitement.

Her hand placed in her husband-to-be's, the man who was so proud to be giving her away took a step back and turned to meet the damp eyes of Shelagh Turner.

"Please don't get upset," he implored quietly, sliding an arm around her shoulder and drawing her into his side. Her head barely came up to his shoulder and he leaned down to murmur further words of comfort into her ear:

"Angela looks absolutely radiant. And she's marrying the love of her life, just like you did here." Her watery smile brightened a fraction and he kissed her cheek in adoration. "Dad would be so proud."

"I know, Tim," she nodded, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a neatly-folded lace handkerchief. "I know. And he'd be proud of you too. You're every inch your father's son."

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After the ceremony, after everyone had greeted the happy couple and after she had cried with happiness in her daughter's arms, Shelagh slipped away from the church and made her way through an iron gate and along a familiar path.

She needed to talk to her husband, to describe to him the happiness which he hadn't been there to witness.

By the time she reached the place where he lay, the tears were already flowing unashamedly.

"I wish you could have been there, Patrick. Our daughter looked absolutely beautiful. And Tim… Tim is…"

"Tim is here, Mum," a voice over her shoulder cut in gently. She felt a large hand grasp her shoulder and she reached up immediately to take comfort from it. "And Angela and Stephen," he continued. "And Isobel, and the twins."

Shelagh looked round to see them all approaching; her daughter and new son-in-law, Tim's wife and their darling children – her much doted-upon grandson and granddaughter.

"Did you think we would let you come and visit Dad alone on a day like today?" Tim asked.

He moved round in front of her as Angela and Isobel reached her, each drawing her into a warm embrace and kissing her lovingly on the cheek.

"We're all here, Dad," Tim said. "Your whole family."

When Shelagh turned back it was to see Timothy tightly grasping his father's pale and age-spotted hand. Angela moved to the far side of the bed to take hold of his other hand, raising it to her lips in a loving gesture which he had so often bestowed on her and her mother. Each of the children in turn were helped by Isobel to kiss their grandfather's cheek before Shelagh moved forward to do the same.

When she pulled back, a solitary tear was rolling down his stubbled skin. As echoing tears formed in the eyes of his nearest and dearest, Patrick Turner reached out a shaky hand towards his wife, his eyes flickering open to meet hers for only the second time since his stroke.

"We're here, Patrick," she whispered. "I'm here..."

FINIS

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