Chapter 3
On Friday night she went home and changed into jeans and headed out to the supermarket. She had absolutely no food to eat and she was going to be on call with the older Dr. Turner that weekend.
She had heard the two brothers discussing who would be on call. The younger said it was his turn and the older said that he would do it. "You don't need to be like Dad...He had no choice...You have us."
She was wondering about the discussion she overheard. He had explained the schedule his father kept, but working the weekend didn't come close. She was looking through apples when a little voice caught her attention.
"Daddy do we have to eat fruit?"
She looked up to see the younger Dr. Turner pushing a carriage with his children at his side.
"Oh hello," she said.
"Miss. Macmillan."
"Just picking up a few things."
"Daddy, who's the lady?"
"This is Miss. Macmillan. She works at the surgery. These are my children, Patrick and Bernadette."
"Very nice to meet you both," Sara said sincerely.
Bernadette who appeared to be about six and had been doing all the talking said, "Daddy, why does she sound like Granny?"
"Because she came from Scotland like Granny."
"Your mother is Scottish?" Sara asked.
"Yes, but she's been in London since the forties when she came to train as a nurse."
"Is that what you whispered to Lily? That I sound like your Mum?"
"Guilty."
"Well Bernadette, I am glad I sound like your Granny. Does my nickname have anything to do with your mother?" she asked looking at doctor.
"I can't say," he smiled, "But we need to get our shopping done before bedtime so we must be moving on."
"Goodbye Miss. Macmillan," Bernadette said.
"Oh do call me Sara."
"Goodbye Sara," the little girl smiled and waved.
She watched as they decided on some fruit and continued on.
Sara had a bad habit of developing harmless crushes. She realized she was doing it again. She had warned Lydia and now she was thinking of him more than she should. The difference was she would never do anything about it. She never did.
During her schooling, she was always studying too hard to be noticed by boys. Then when she was working as a nurse, she would go out with friends. Men would come around her group, but she was never noticed. She had long accepted that she was invisible except in her work.
She had been on dates, but nothing ever came of them. Most were blind dates, set up by friends and eventually she said, "No more."
She was the only thirty year old who could count on one hand the men she'd kissed. Other than a few unwelcome gropes, that was the most she had ever experienced. Her romantic side was content watching silly movies.
On Saturday she worked less at the surgery than if she picked up shifts. They saw sick patient until they were all seen. Dr. Turner would be on call, but typically only maternity patients would require him to go to hospital. Sick patient were asked to wait until morning or sent to emergency ward. He did rounds each morning before the sick visits.
"This is a lot different than your father's schedule," Sara commented.
"Oh yes! I remember sitting in his car as he went on call after call. He was lucky because he had the Nonnatuns."
"Nonnatuns?"
"The Order of Saint Raymond Nonnatus, nuns and lay staff who were district nurses and midwives. They did all the deliveries. My father came only for medical complications."
"It all seems so amazing."
"The conditions were horrid. The overcrowded tenements and the babies just kept coming."
"I think my building is a reconditioned tenement."
"They were eventually all torn down. What was built in their place were not much better. That is probably where you live."
Lydia came out of an exam room. She had been asked to see the last patient. She reported her findings of an ear infection and recommended treatment. Then she and the doctor went back in so he could verify her diagnosis.
When the patient left, he said, "Well done. You both get high marks for today."
"High enough marks to learn my nickname?" Sara asked.
"You really want to know."
"Does it have anything to do with your Scottish mother, that I've been told I sound like?"
"Who told you that?"
"Bernadette. I met her at the supermarket last night."
"She would notice that. I'll tell you this. Your nickname has nothing to do with my mother, but like Trixie, you remind me of one of the midwives I spoke of...My favourite."
"Your favourite, I am impressed."
"We'll see maybe I'll be in the mood to tell you tomorrow."
On Sunday, things were slower than the day before.
"We may be done noon," Dr. Turner said, "Miss. Macmillan, I heard you're quite good at reviewing lab results. Mine are a bit backed up. Would you mind helping out?"
"I'd be glad to doctor."
"There is a pile on my desk. Make yourself comfortable."
It was the first time she had been in the older Turner's office. He had a fascinating old placard that read 'Kenilworth Row Maternity Home and Surgery Dr. P. Turner.' No wonder they both used their first initial. They were just like their father, P. Turner...I'd bet he was Patrick, she thought, just like the little boy she met Friday night.
This office also had an old pinard on the desk much like the one she noticed on his brother's desk. She took a few minutes to look at the pictures. There was a old family picture...sitting on a sofa, but the baby was a girl and no little brother. She studied the parents...the younger doctor had the look of his father, but the hair color and eyes of his mother.
There were family pictures of the doctor and his beautiful wife and their two daughters. There was also a large family picture...The mother was in the middle and Bernadette and Patrick looked to be one and two years of age and...Oh my she thought...The sister is Dr. Gilligan! How did she not know that?
With that revelation, she sat down to work. She went through result after result. In one file she saw a note about follow up needed on the patient. It was addressed to Tim and signed Ange. It was a day of discoveries… the 'T' was for Tim and looking at his license on the wall she confirmed his proper name was Timothy.
"Are you through that whole pile?" he asked standing in the doorway.
"Almost...I left some notes. So have I earned the right to know?"
"Know? Oh, well I suppose. You remind me of my favorite midwife, but unlike Trixie, she was a nun...So I call you Sister. It is not meant as an insult. It is actually great respect. You remind me of my youth," he explained.
"Sister?" she asked. He nodded his head 'yes' and she said, "Okay."
Sara didn't know any Anglican nuns. Growing up she had some Catholic friends on her block and they always talked about how mean the nuns were at their school. She would need to trust him that the Anglican sisters were nicer.
