Chapter 2
Chapter 2 sheds some light on the meaning behind the title. Many thanks to my trusty betas: Ginchy and Birdy.
Shelagh covertly let her eyes follow Timothy and Dr Turner as they left the square and until they were out of sight. She then looked back to the fountain and the late roses that bloomed next to it. Her palms felt a little clammy as they usually did after most social interaction. Not for the first time, she wished she were more comfortable in conversation with her peers. That was one of the reasons she so enjoyed her time with Timothy, their talks flowed naturally and, in her experience, children were much less stressful to be around. She never found herself worrying that she was intruding or wasting his time.
Checking her watch she saw that she had about fifteen minutes before she needed to be back on the ward. Smiling at the memory of Timothy and his joy over his new project, she was grateful for the friendship they had developed, as much for her sake as his. She felt less lonely because of it and he gave her a sense of purpose here apart from her work. Helping others was a reward unto itself, whether it be a patient or a friend, and Shelagh felt the familiar warmth that such service offered. But, she contemplated, if she were honest with herself, Timothy wasn't the only reason she felt such a glow this afternoon. Dr Turner's presence had begun to have a bit of an effect on her and today was no exception. When he had come to the square for Timothy he looked rushed off his feet as usual, but instead of their hospital uniform of scrubs, he was dressed in his street clothes having just come from a meeting with the medical board. Closing her eyes, she recalled that he had looked quite handsome wearing gray trousers and a blue button down shirt. Then the breeze had blown his fringe over his forehead in a way that she had recently decided was very attractive. As he quizzed Timothy about his nature project he had leaned back on his heels with his hands in his pockets looking wonderfully relaxed and the view she had been treated to as he retrieved the litter from her lunch made her blush as she indulged herself with the memory of it. Shelagh opened her eyes and cleared her throat, she really needed to get a handle on her thoughts; they were unprofessional and certainly wouldn't lead anywhere. Dr Turner was a busy doctor with a full time job as well as parenting duties; he didn't have time or interest for the likes of her she reminded herself. No one ever had before and this was surely no different. Back at home in Aberdeen, she hadn't had any suitors. Young men were always falling over her cousin, who was fashionable like Nurse Lee, or her school friends, who were confidently flirtatious like Nurse Franklin, but never keen on her. Sighing, she picked up her things and headed towards the glass entrance doors of the hospital, intending on a quick trip to the loo before starting back to her shift.
Instead, walking through the front hall, she heard her name being called as she passed the tearoom. Turning, she saw the three young nurses at a corner table waving and calling out to her. Stifling her irritation, Shelagh crossed the room to where they sat. "Good afternoon, Nurses Franklin, Lee and Miller," she greeted them, nodding at each in turn.
"Good afternoon, Nurse Mannion," Cynthia began as she offered Shelagh their last biscuit, "come and sit with us for a moment." Not knowing how to refuse, Shelagh took the pastry and sat down politely.
"Nurse Miller, when you go back on duty, would you help Mrs Davis with her next attempt at breastfeeding? She's still struggling to master the task." Shelagh decided she might as well use this time wisely, even as she began to wonder why this was her typical pattern.
"For goodness sake, you can call us by our Christian names when we're on break!" Trixie asserted, looking entirely unashamed by her outburst while Cynthia and Jenny glanced away in embarrassment.
"That seems a bit too familiar," Shelagh stammered, trying to regain her comfort zone.
"Not really," Trixie reasoned, "we're four young women united in the care of new mothers and we may discover that we have even more in common if we got to know each other better." She directed her gaze at Shelagh who had trouble meeting her eyes. "In fact Jenny was just saying that friendship among co-workers makes a more effective team," Trixie continued, ignoring a withering look from Jenny.
"Hmmm," Shelagh conveniently chewed on her biscuit but realised the distance her lack of response may have created.
Jenny, attempting to salvage the awkward situation, directed a question at Shelagh, "Do you have plans for your day off?"
"Just some reading," Shelagh answered more openly, "and I'll see if they need any help at the church."
Trixie coughed subtly, then interjected, "You know, the Ward Sister on Men's Surgical is the most terrific fun! Not only is she much younger than our sisters, but she organises the most entertaining evenings' out for her ward staff!"
"Trixie, could you get her to share some of her ideas with our ward?" Jenny wondered excitedly.
"I'm sure I could," Trixie beamed, "and we can plan one of our own! I'll choose the one that sounds the best and advertise our night out with posters in the Obstetric nurses' station."
"If we plan it for a week from Friday, I know all four of us will have the evening off," Cynthia offered boldly, raising her eyebrows in Shelagh's direction. "Do say you'll promise to join us?"
Shelagh considered for moment. Her instinctive reaction was to say no, but she could sense that Cynthia's request was genuine. During her brief time in the tea room this afternoon the effort these women had made on her behalf had not gone unnoticed. Aware of how difficult it would be to say no after such hospitality, she nodded her agreement, but also gave herself the option to decline later if she changed her mind.
In response to her nod the nurses expressed their enthusiasm with radiant smiles and at least one small squeal. Blushing, Shelagh stood to return to work, reminding them that their break was also coming to an end.
"Goodbye, Shelagh!" Jenny dared.
Shelagh froze for a moment, then slowly looked to the nurse. "Goodbye…" she paused, "Jenny...and thank you for the invitation...Cynthia and Trixie." Turning, she left the tearoom at a brisk pace.
As she entered the stairwell she blew out a breath. Had it really been that painful to break the barrier of professionalism? She had to admit that it hadn't been. And if what Jenny had said was true and this would help them build a better clinical team, then she certainly could not find a reason to argue the point. Truthfully, she acknowledged to herself that this wasn't the first time these three had tried to draw her into a friendship since her arrival at St Cuthbert's. Looking at it like that, as a whole, she could see that their interest in a connection was actually genuine. And she had suddenly become aware, during their conversation today, of what she had obviously been ignoring for some time: her habit of redirecting things when they got too personal. She wasn't quite sure what to do about that but as a first step she promised herself to make an attempt and go through with their planned outing.
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Later that evening, back at their flat, Patrick sat in his favorite chair attempting to unwind from another busy day while Timothy continued work on his most recent Lego set, a model of Hogwart's Castle. They had left the hospital at a reasonable hour for once, making a detour first to the park where the caterpillar had been found and, unsurprisingly, the leaves in which it should be eating, and then on to the chip shop for their all too frequent stand-in for a healthy dinner.
Patrick kept an eye on the telly, trying to focus on the cricket match he was watching and at the same time listen to Timothy chattering about his day. His boy was still going on about his time in the square with Nurse Mannion, "She's really interested in science, Dad, but she says she likes Biology best." Well that makes sense, seeing as she's a nurse. Patrick hid a grin, enjoying Timothy's innocence and enthusiasm as he listed her favorite animals, then turned his attention back to the match as his son continued, "she grew up in Aberdeen, that's in Scotland, and she still misses it; sometimes when she's homesick she'll go and sit by the river." From there Tim moved on to the football he'd played at lunchtime followed by a conversation with himself as he worked through a particularly tricky part of the Lego instructions.
Patrick's mind began to wander, following the thought that had surfaced as a result of Timothy's monologue: the lad was searching for a mother figure. Not that anyone could replace Marianne, for either of them, but Patrick couldn't deny that he was limited in his role as a father and his son would benefit greatly from some motherly attention. He shook his head, it was a mystery as to how to accomplish that, he couldn't very well just marry someone so Tim could have a mother. His thoughts turned more personal and, for the first time in the almost two years since Marianne had died, he found himself thinking that maybe he was ready to open his life to someone special as well. It hurt to come to that realisation, even though he was merely admitting it in his mind. There were so many layers of his life with Marianne, and each time he let go of another one there was pain even as it was a step towards his healing. He consoled himself with the thought that this was only the flicker of an idea which he was in no way prepared to act upon. For one thing, he wouldn't even know where to begin; for another, he was a tired, middle-aged father, too busy and worn out to have the time to notice anyone, let alone be noticed in return.
Refocusing his attention on his boy, he stood up from his chair to lend Timothy a hand with his sitting room floor Lego project, his old knees creaking as he did so. He grimaced at his body's apparent agreement with his recent assessment of himself. "One last section and then it's bath time for you," he reminded his son. They worked together, sharing a few more anecdotes from their day while building Dumbledore's office, then tidied the bricks into a safe corner of the room.
"'Night, Dad!" Timothy grinned as he turned to leave.
"Good night, son," Patrick called, returning his smile. They were doing well, just the two of them, he reminded himself. As nice as it had been, and he supposed could be again, things were ticking along in their current situation. He checked the time, then decided he would watch the last half hour of the match before looking over his patient notes in preparation for tomorrow. Perhaps when things settled down a bit he would revisit the idea of moving on.
