Once upon a time, Angela had been terrified of Sister Evangelina – "the big one," all the children called her. She was so different from the other nuns. Sister Julienne and Sister Winifred were like Mum – quiet, smiling and ready to listen to whatever she had to say. They always greeted her with a hug, and sometimes cake or a biscuit if she visited Nonnatus at the right hour.

Sister Evangelina was loud; you could always hear her at clinic, no matter how many screaming babies were there. She hardly ever smiled and huffed at Angela's requests for cake. Mum and Tim said she was nice, and Tim even hugged her once at Christmas, but Angela wasn't quite sure she wanted to. She didn't look very huggable.

Then last year, just before Angela started school, Mummy had brought her to the clinic one day to get her "vaccine," as she called it. Dad had explained the night before that he would use a tiny needle to stick medicine into her arm, so she wouldn't get sick like Tim had when he was little. Mum said it would hurt for moment, but if she was a good girl and didn't cry too much, she'd get a sweet afterwards.

So she skipped into the clinic, hugged Sister Julienne and stood in line, ready for her sweet. Some of the other children looked scared, but she was a doctor's daughter. Her dad had taken care of her loads of times when she'd been sick. He'd listened to her heart and lungs with his stethoscope and peered into her ears with a funny little light that she didn't know the name for. Sometimes he gave her medicine that tasted awful, but when she made a face, he'd just make a funnier face back or tickle her, and she'd laugh. She'd also watched him pack his bag in the evenings, opening and filling all those mysterious little compartments with tools and medicines. There was nothing in that bag that could hurt her.

Then she'd seen the Carter twins, sobbing as they left the cubicle with their mum (or was it their aunt? She could never tell.). Meg and Mave were two years older than her, and she'd seen both of them scrap their knees and elbows playing Red Rover more times than she could count. They never cried, not once. If they were sobbing, "vaccines" must be awful. She lost her nerve.

"Mummy," she said quietly, tugging on her mother's hand. "Do I have to?"

Her mum's answering smile was gentle, but firm. "It will only take a minute, dearest, and you won't even notice it. I'll be right there. Come on."

Her mum led her behind the screen, where Nurse Mount and her dad stood waiting, and lifted her up onto the cot.

"All right, Miss Angela Turner," her dad said, reading off the card in his hand and then grinning at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the nurse holding the needle. It was even bigger than she'd imagined. No wonder Meg and Mave had cried. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Her dad frowned. "You know I have a daughter by that name, but she's always happy to see me."

Angela crossed her arms tighter and her bottom lip began to tremble. But she couldn't cry. If she cried, Mum might be angry, and she wouldn't get her sweet.

"Angela, sweetheart." Her dad bent down slightly so his face was level with hers. "What's wrong?

"I don't want to!" she cried and burst into tears.

"Shelagh?"

"She was fine and happy a minute ago, Patrick. I don't know."

"The Carter twins probably set her off," Nurse Mount said.

"The Carter twins set everyone off," her dad grumbled.

Mum sat on the cot next to her. "Angie, remember what we talked about at breakfast? How it will only hurt a moment?" She rubbed her daughter's crossed arms up and down, encouraging her to relax. "Just look at me, and give Daddy your arm. Look at me."

Angela sniffled and glanced up at her mother. Her blue eyes were gentle behind her glasses. She unfolded her arms.

"Why don't you tell Nurse Mount what Tim taught you last night?"

Angela looked warily at the nurse standing by the cot. She couldn't see the needle anymore. Maybe she'd gotten rid of it.

"The – the alphabet. Backwards."

The nurse raised her eyebrows. "Backwards? I'd love to hear that."

Mum nodded. "Go on."

She began slowly, her voice trembling. "Z. Y. X—X. W. V – " She felt her dad gently take her arm. "and – and U. T and S –"

The nurse's hand moved from behind her skirt. She saw the needle, saw Dad reach for it –

"No!" She pulled her arm away and shrunk back against her mother.

"Angela!" Her dad sighed the way he always did when he was cross.

"Do you want me to get another nurse to help?"

"No need." Sister Evangelina appeared from behind the screen. "Now then missus, what seems to be the problem here?"

Angela stopped crying and gaped at the nun towering over her. She was even larger up close.

"Were you giving the doctor and your mother cheek?"

She shook her head frantically.

"Really? Because it sounded to me like you were, and I've got a good mind to tell Sister Julienne, and then give you the shot myself."

Angela's eyes grew wide as saucers. Getting the needle from Sister Evangelina would be ten times worse, and if she told Sister Julienne –

"There, all done," she heard her dad say, and looked down at her arm. The nurse was smoothing a plaster over a place near her shoulder that ached slightly.

But she hadn't even seen the needle or felt it go in. She looked at her mum, then at Sister Evangelina, confused. Had she done it?

The nun gave her a barley sugar twist. "Scare the living daylights out of 'em, they don't make a peep. Works every time."

Since then, Angela had been cautiously curious about Sister Evangelina. She'd learned not to ask her for cake, but other questions – what the nuns prayed for, why Dad drove a car instead of riding a bicycle like all the midwives, why Mum had cried when she'd asked her for a little sister – she always answered directly, if a little gruffly.

She'd also seen her scold Tim when he'd say something smart to Dad or Mum, and he always looked sore and apologized afterwards, so she sensed the nun might just be the person to tell her secret to.

Now, Sister Evangelina spotted her and glared. "Angela Turner, this isn't the line for sweets. You've already had your vaccination and as I recall, you weren't too fond of the needle."

She shrank back slightly. She didn't want to go through that again. "I've got a secret," she whispered, so the Sister and Nurse Miller had to bend down to hear her. "About Timmy."

The Sister raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Good or bad?"

"Um…."

"Bad then." She crossed her arms. "Out with it."

Angela shuffled from one foot to the other, then blurted out: "He's going on a date. With a girl."

The Sister snorted and Nurse Miller giggled. What was so funny? "I should hope it's with a girl," the nun said. "Why is that a secret?"

"Because he said I wasn't supposed to tell Mum or Dad. He said they wouldn't like it."

Sister Evangelina put her hands on her hips. "Were you not supposed to tell me?"

"He didn't say that."

The Sister examined her with hard, narrowed eyes. Maybe she shouldn't have told her.

Then the nun's wide face broke into grin, and she laughed. "You little stinker."

"There's our Romeo now," Nurse Miller said.

Angela turned and saw her brother dash through the clinic toward the kitchen, presumably looking for his science book.

"Give her a jelly baby," Sister Evangelina said. "I've got to speak to Master Turner."