She found the dimly lit, ornate entrance hall deserted as she moved through the heavy double doors. She heard Jenny's fractured voice in the distance, imparting information to the London. She moved slowly and silently across the tiled floor. Shelagh had hoped Jane would still be around to take Dr Turner's bag from her. There was no-one to be seen.
She could hear movement on the first floor. Doctor Turner would need his bag to help Chummy. Nurse Lee was now comforting a sobbing Trixie. An uneasy smile crossed Shelagh's face. Nurse Franklin always so courageous and clear-headed in a crisis, but so fragile when trouble or loss of any kind, even temporary, came to Nonnatus. The visitor found herself chilled by her own thinking and hung onto the word temporary.
Shelagh climbed the familiar old worn wooden staircase. For one confused moment she thought it was the sound of singing that led her in the right direction. She hovered outside the Noakes' temporary living quarters, hoping Patrick would sense her presence and take the burden from her. He didn't notice the slight figure at the door. Dr Turner was completely engaged in trying to help the woman, who was no longer a colleague and a friend, but a patient. One who needed his full attention and professionalism.
Sister Julienne was talking to him, and Nurse Miller was trying to soothe Chummy. Suddenly Shelagh felt herself knocked sideways by a shove to her right hip.
"Gangway!" Sister Evangelina's unmistakable no-nonsense tone interrupted the concerned whispering in the bedroom, turned medical room.
Sister Evangelina dragged the cumbersome gas and air machine through the door, taking no prisoners. She gave a fleeting sideways glance to the figure in her way. The sister's entrance caused Patrick to look up, he spotted Shelagh and outstretched his hand, beckoning her to bring his bag to him.
Shelagh knew he wasn't the only one to become aware of her presence. For a second, all attention turned from one friend's unexpected plight to another's unexpected entrance. It was Dr Turner who broke the stalemate.
"Nurse!" his voice was firm, but not harsh. It was enough though to galvanise Shelagh into action.
She immediately found the nearest flat surface and automatically started unpacking everything she knew he would need.
Jenny had joined the carers and was talking to a very drowsy Chummy. Sister Evangelina ironically administered the gas and air she was so suspicious of.
Sister Julienne had planned to assist the doctor, but she soon realized her presence wasn't required. In fact she felt somewhat in the way. As the young woman, not in uniform, provided the physician with everything he needed, without him ever having to ask.
Not a word was said between them, until Dr Turner spoke her name, the name her mother had given her, not the church.
"Shelagh," it was barely a whisper, but it wasn't missed by anyone in the room, save Chummy.
She remained silent but lifted her eyes up towards him. He added nothing but gently nodded towards Nurse Miller, who he had asked to draw up an injection of pethidine. The young nurse was shaking, the vial looked precarious in her sweaty hand, the syringe was vibrating in the other. The usually expert medical practitioner was struggling to fit the needle through the tiny opening of the broken glass container. Fear for her friend had taken hold and the awareness that she may be failing her, was just making things worse.
Shelagh read Patrick's thoughts and the situation instantaneously and moved swiftly, but without fuss towards the frustrated nurse. She spoke for the first time since she had re-entered the convent.
"Mrs Noakes will need a suitcase packing for the hospital, Nurse. You will find her things much more easily than I. Would you let me do that for you?"
Shelagh gently took the misbehaving ampule and syringe from the broken nurse. She turned her back on Cynthia, so she did not see the speed and dexterity the midwife, who had officially retired less than an hour ago, employed in drawing up the analgesia.
She handed the full syringe to the doctor, their gloved hands brushed and Shelagh wondered how she was not the one who was visibly shaking. Patrick mouthed a silent thank you.
The Nonnatus team did their very best to stabilize their patient and monitor her unborn child, but they were all aware that she needed a level of intervention not available to them. After what seemed like an age, Trixie appeared at the door, Jane was bringing the flying squad up the stairs.
Dr Turner followed the London team and what was now their patient down the stairs, explaining his findings and what treatment had been administered. Chummy's young friends followed with Sister Evangelina. This left Sister Julienne and Shelagh in the now eerily empty room. The younger woman had started clearing away equipment and stripping the soiled linen.
"Shelagh, please leave that. You are not dressed appropriately for this."
Shelagh didn't stop, she kept her head down and kept working. The pensive nun moved towards her and encircled Shelagh's wrists firmly with her strong worn hands, to stop the perpetual movement.
"You have blood on your skirt."
Shelagh eventually stilled and stared down at her stained skirt.
"It's old," she muttered almost incomprehensibly, scrutinizing the 1940's skirt she had put on that morning, for the first time in over a decade.
"We will find something to fit you in the charity box," the sister offered with a brittle smile.
"We most certainly will not!" the horrified voice did not come from the silent Scot.
Both women turned towards the bedroom door.
"You will come with me, I am sure I can lend you something," a breathless exasperated voice continued.
A trembling arm encircled the pale, bewildered figure in front of her. The new arrival to the scene, threw back her head, sniffed back the tears and swallowed the bile in the back of her throat.
She needed desperately a distraction to take her mind off her dear friend, who was fighting for not just her own life. One had unexpectedly presented itself and no-one was going to dare say no, to Trixie Franklin.