"Early?!" Chummy whispered as he recounted the telephone call from his brother in law.
He had been just about to get undressed for bed, eyes closing by the moment as he had pulled back the covers. Sleeping in the middle of the day was not the most favourable of activities but after three night shifts in a row, and another that night, it was somewhat of an unwelcome necessity. Closing the curtains to obstruct the temporary annoyance of daylight he had been most pleased that Camilla had intentionally purchased thick, dark material to fashion these curtains which had a rather pleasing effect of plunging the room into as much a version of night as possible.
A glass of water safely installed on the bedside table, he had just been able to draw his jumper over his head when the telephone rang to a voice he did not recognise.
"I gather one is finally speaking to one's brother in law don't you say?"
Just as his wife was 'just call me Chummy' - even though Peter actually never did - her eldest brother, Lieutenant Robert Alexander Fortescue-Cholmondeley-Browne was just the same.
"Just call me Bob Browne and be done with it! Such an appallingly impractical name to be saddled with otherwise!" he had announced within seconds of the telephone being answered. Peter had never met any of his wife's brothers but Bob had seemed, at least on the face of it, affable and friendly and he found himself liking him from a single conversation. His voice was, however, also rather vociferous in its tone, breaking through Peter's tiredness.
The difficulty of the matter facing them, to Peter, had always been clear. With Bob Browne came his mother in law and now listening to the voice at the end of the telephone, that familial visit was to be earlier than they had expected.
"We've decided to pop across in rather quick time from the island old chap! Just a week or so early so you had best warn the girl as Mother will be with Vronny and me".
He knew his wife, when he had finally worked out that she was 'the girl', would not be best pleased and to be truthful, Peter was not feeling entirely festive about the prospect either of having to address his mother in law's presence almost a fortnight earlier than expected.
"Bob said that Veronica's sister was going to be in London unexpectedly and she wanted to meet up with her, so they were coming early" he said as Peter continued to recount the conversation, realising the colour had still not returned to his wife's face. "Something about your mother not wanting to travel on her own in the depths of winter with your father being in Ireland already".
"Pa's in Ireland?" Chummy replied, feeling distinctly and decidedly bewildered. She could not place the last time she saw her father; knowing he should have been walking her down the aisle instead of Fred even though she was ever grateful to the handyman.
Peter nodded. "Apparently"
He saw her take a breath. "Well one does suppose then that I should spend Sunday sprucing up the house" she commented quietly.
"It doesn't need 'sprucing up', Camilla" he replied. "We haven't been in there long enough to make that much of a mess".
"The catch on the kitchen window needs fixing" she announced and he could see her anxiety levels begin to rise, distracted and becoming swiftly preoccupied with what to him was a relatively minor problem. He did not know his mother in law well enough yet to realise that she would spot every single defect on the inevitable visit and it would be added to his list of inadequacies as a husband. Chummy could hear the dictums already.
"You do realise you could have anyone climb in through that window! He clearly has no thoughts for your safety".
"Mater, we are four floors up"
"I've done it Camilla", he replied, having ticked off that job from the list just that morning on his return from work and before he took himself to bed. There was a note of sternness in his voice but he had quickly realised that when she was upset or restless that for some reason she would immediately respond to that slight tightness he displayed.
"So when are they arriving?" she asked. The sooner she knew, she supposed, the better.
"Friday into Southampton. London on Saturday".
She nodded again, plastering a smile to her face that he could see right through.
"Well I suppose there is little one can do about it!" she replied taking his hand knowing that the forced jollity she was displaying was little more than a facade. "How was Bob?"
Before he could speak a gaggle of bodies, laughing and joking, suddenly entered the kitchen and behind them, Sister Bernadette.
"Ladies please! Do not forget decorum!" the Sister exclaimed gently, hearing the vast volume of sudden calamity that seemed to engulf the quiet environment of the kitchen.
"Sorry Sister" Trixie replied, slipping into a seat opposite Peter; Jenny and Cynthia at her either side.
"We do have visitors!" Sister Bernadette teased, referring to Peter and Chummy who were occupying the two seats to her right.
"Chummy's not a visitor!" Trixie retorted in good humour.
"All the same" she replied quietly as both Sister Julienne and Sister Evangelina arrived, the latter bearing a tray laden with sliced cake and a pot of tea. She took a cup and saucer from Sister Monica Joan's usual spot at the head of the table.
"Is Sister Monica Joan not joining us?" Cynthia asked, immediately concerned, having seen the elderly Sister depart upstairs only a few minutes earlier.
"No, she is not" Sister Evangelina replied. "And if I had wanted to become a waitress I would have taken up a post at McIntyre's long ago!" The Sister turned on her heel at the mention of the local dining rooms and the entirety of the rest of Nonnatus suddenly decided that the empty plates in front of them were far more engaging.
As supper progressed Chummy felt slightly better. Always the company of friends lifted her spirits and from time to time a reassuring hand squeezed her knee and she had to suppress a smile. He always had the most appropriate ways of distracting her from her troubles and, although going home to an empty flat did not worry her, she much preferred that she could reach out in the middle of the night and find the solidity of his form.
There were some days though when she simply did not know what to think about the prospect of her mother's visit. She had hoped and prayed, and prayed and hoped, that it could not be worse than last time; that dreadful fear when she almost sacrificed the one person who – now – she knew could love her for the rest of her life. The realisation that she was capable of being loved was such a revelation and the one thing that she was determined to do this time was not let Mater touch the bond that she and her husband had forged in these last few weeks. Bob's letter however had only sought to infiltrate what sensibilities she had and the prospect remained somewhat alarming.
As she kissed Peter goodbye and closed the door behind him as he walked into the night to start his shift, her eyes filled with unwanted and unbidden tears. There were these occasions where she simply had this overwhelming, desperate need to push herself under the covers and just cry.
She hoped her tears would dry before he returned in the morning.