"What on earth is that child doing?!" Sister Evangelina exclaimed as she stepped into the sitting room.

"Sorry Sister!" Cynthia replied, retrieving Freddie from where he had decided to entrap himself. The sight of a backside poking out from between two settees had just topped off what had been a trying morning.

"Where is his mother?" she asked.

"With Sister Julienne, Sister" Cynthia responded, guiding Freddie backwards and positioning him on her hip. "She's arranging to see if she can have some time off with Peter's examinations coming up".

"Oh yes" Sister Evangelina replied, remembering. "But does she intend to take all day about it? We are not running a nursery here!"

"No Sister", Cynthia replied, meekly, but more than happy to look after Freddie at any given chance she could.

"Good" she countered, as the baby wriggled out of Cynthia's arms, heading straight towards the Sister, arms wide, expecting attention.

"Why does the boy always have to wear that look?" she muttered as he arrived at her side. "Two seconds young man, some of have calls to go to". Sister Evangelina picked the boy up when almost simultaneously his mother arrived.

"Well?" Cynthia asked.

"The entire week!" Chummy replied, excitedly. "One just needs to find occupation for the Lord and Master here to keep him out of his Daddy's way now so that he has some peace!"

"Examinations at last?" the Sister asked handing child over to mother so she could go on her way.

"Yes Sister" she replied.

"Well tell Constable Noakes he will be in our thoughts", the Sister responded softly.

"I will" Chummy smiled.

"So when's the first one?" Cythia asked as soon as sister Evangeline was out of earshot.

"Friday. Mathematics and Numerical reasoning" she replied, the timetable for that dreaded week already engrained in her mind.

"Ouch!" Cynthia responded

"I nearly borrowed the abacus from Sister Julienne's office and took it home as a jest but then I realised one would just end up annoying him. But Friday's arrangements are already made".

"So where are you going then?"

"Timothy's school team is playing cricket and Shelagh has asked us to go. Poor chap can't play as his legs won't let him but he's helping with refreshments and it might be a nice day out if the sun shines".

"Oh how wonderful!" Cynthia commented as they walked out of the sitting room. "That'll be a lovely day!"

Shelagh and Chummy found a quiet spot away from the field of play. They could still see Timothy behind the refreshment stall lifting, carrying and smiling as he doled out orange juice, lemonade and sandwiches to his schoolfriends and their parents. The sun was shining and the gently breeze made matters very comfortable indeed as they relaxed, both propped against a tree.

From his place still in his perambulator, however Freddie woke suddenly, crying and screaming, shattering the peace. Chummy stood up quickly to him, pulling back the blanket that covered him and scooping the boy up in her arms.

"Sshhhh" she said gently. "Its quite alright. Mummy's here. All of those nasty monsters have gone". Shelagh looked up, watching, seeing her friend entirely absorbed in comforting her child; gently swaying him, his cheek pressed to lips in a comforting kiss. The pang of something, perhaps jealousy or longing, quickly stabbed at her chest and departed with equivalent haste.

"One sometimes thinks he has dreams that disagree with him", Chummy said quietly, brushing away tears with her thumb as she brought the boy down to sit on her knee.

Chummy was about to say something more when Timothy appeared behind her holding a tray carefully.

"What ho Timothy! We have our own waiter service?"

Timothy smiled as they noticed the three glasses filled and the 2 plates of sandwiches.

"There's one for Freddie too. If he can drink it. The sandwiches are ham and cheese. I didn't know whether he was old enough to eat them but there's more there just in case and I took the tomatoes off" he concluded smiling.

"Thank you Tim" Shelagh replied, taking the tray from him and setting it between her and her companion.

"Tomatoes off?" Chummy asked quietly as they watched him walk back to the tent as he carefully avoided the dips and ruts in the grass.

"I cannot bear them!" Shelagh whispered. "Even the prospect of the taste does something peculiar to my insides!"

Chummy smiled as she watched Timothy walk. "I do see what you mean about him becoming more independent!"

"Yes" Shelagh replied, wistfully. "Even three weeks ago I wouldn't have said he could have walked over here with that tray, balancing drinks and food. It's amazing what makes you think".

Chummy nodded. "Oh hello!" Chummy said, as her son stirred. "Somebody heard the word 'food'!"

Shelagh saw a pair of doleful eyes. "Is he alright having these?"

"Yes he's fine", Chummy replied, as her son set about the bread that had been passed to him, chuckling to herself as Shelagh tucked a serviette into the collar of the boy's jumper.

"Lemonade or orange?" she asked.

"I'll have whatever is left", Chummy replied. "But Young Sir would prefer the orange juice". Shelagh looked at her quizzically.

"I think he's developed a penchant. I craved oranges and orange juice something inexcusable when I was pregnant. I think Peter thought I was losing my mind".

"Are cravings really that strong?" Shelagh asked curiously, deliberately taking the lemonade.

"It was bordering on horrific!" she joked. "Peter would have to go to the market every day without fail on the way back from work. He forgot once and the moment he stepped into the house he just looked at me, turned tail and went back again! I don't think he could stand the sight of oranges by the end of it all. It lasted until 2 days before I went into labour!"

"What did labour feel like?" Shelagh asked suddenly. She had witnessed many births in her time but to be on the receiving end was something she could not particularly imagine.

"Do you know, one has no idea!" Chummy replied. "I don't remember it. Not one second!"

"Really?"

"I remember Dolly being in labour and I have vague recollections of getting back to Nonnatus but after that? No; nothing until waking up from the anaesthetic and by that time I had had so much morphine I barely knew who I was".

"I suppose Nature makes us forget it" Shelagh replied. "Wants us to forget something traumatic so we do it again and again to stop us dying out".

"I would like to have known whether I could have done it. Whether my body would let me do it", Chummy replied, thinking back. "But I will never know now". She had had that news broken to her soon after Freddie had been born – she would have no choice to deliver by section for her next child for fear of it happening again. Thankfully she had been told she could still have another one and that did comfort her somewhat.

"I suppose that its easier for me" Shelagh said, picking away at a sandwich she had been quietly dismantling. "I'll never have to wonder because I know I'll never experience it so there is almost no point in wasting strength in worrying".

"Have you thought more about seeing a Doctor?" Chummy knew she was pushing the point but if anything, she always tried to keep faith.

"I do suppose it would be possible to explore the possibility. I could have certainty and then I would know and I could put it away in the 'never meant to be' box; not wonder when I fall ill whether it is morning sickness and it will probably, simply, be Influenza or something I've eaten that disagreed with me. One day I might just forget and our childlessness might be the norm". She silently took up her drink.

Chummy shifted trying to get comfortable, adjusting her son.

"Are you alright?" Shelagh asked.

"Yes" she replied. "He's sitting on my scar and is an absolute dead weight sometimes".

"Is it still causing pain? After all this time?"

"Up and down lifting things; sitting funny. I don't like to ask Peter to lift a toy from the floor or carry chairs when I'm capable most of the time. He is more keen on walking than being carried now too so that helps". Chummy stopped. "I do dread the curse now".

She saw Shelagh pause. "I ache for that pain. I really do".

"Nothing?"

"Nothing to write home about" Shelagh replied. "When I was ill, I just thought that the interruption was because I was ill and well, no-one needs to examine a Nun to see if she can have a child or not. It wasn't something that crossed my mind and well, these things can take their time and even before things were, well, erratic but I never thought..."

"Did Patrick not say anything?"

"I er…." Shelagh paused, feeling embarrassment creep over her skin, yet craving another woman to talk to; someone who would understand the relationships of husband and wife.

"One won't say anything", Chummy assured her.

"I did struggle with the familiarity of it all first" she breathed relief fluttering in her stomach and not having to withhold how apprehensive she had been of those first few weeks and months as Mrs Turner. "That's probably why Patrick didn't really notice. I thought as a Doctor he might have questioned me as I became….more accustomed".

"But he didn't?"

Shelagh shook her head. "We had no experience of each other but I knew in my heart I could not walk down that aisle having breached what little promises I had left". She paused. "You did what was right for you and I had to do what was right for me".

"And it should have been no other way" Chummy replied. "As much as I reflect, I am glad I….." she paused. "Got to know him a little before we got married. It wasn't so much of a shock to the old system and knew a little of me to. Peter just knows its that time if I have phenacetin in my handbag".

"He goes in your handbag?!" Shelagh replied.

"Yes" she replied, not thinking it might be seen to be unacceptable. "Well if he can find his way in there sometimes from the amount of Fred's gubbins I carry about with me!"

Shelagh smiled quietly.

"Shelagh" her friend said. "There is no normal. I realise that now. What is right for you is right for you".

"Do you think you might be able to help me see a doctor?" Shelagh asked, having chewed the prospect over in her mind.

"You know I will. Dr Clarke was always so lovely to me that I am sure he could suggest something. They might be able to at least have a look; a little operation".

"Patrick would have to sign the consent form" she replied bluntly. "I would have to tell him".

"Yes" Chummy said, realising that neither had the legal authority to even sign a form. "Of course".

"Isn't it just so odd we have no control over what happens to our bodies? We conceive, or try to, carry the child, give birth. We are all controlled by men. When we need help with that child, its men that decide" Shelagh replied, angered slightly by the seemingly unending way that women were beholden to the male population.

"If we have another Peter will just sign the consent form for the operation and that will be that. It will annoy me something peculiar", Chummy said, the thought rankling for a moment too.

"But in your case it doesn't bear thinking about if you didn't have that operation".

"I know. One knows there is a higher purpose for it and yes, I do understand. Freddie needs a mummy and how I feel, well, it doesn't really matter, does it? The prospect of me having another operation against him not having a Mummy, well it pales into insignificance".

Shelagh nodded. It did certainly do that. That boy, snuggled up to his mother now, but without her? Where would he be?