I tried to find an element in which the insanity/irrationality of love and babies could be addressed together. It had to be either Timothy or Sister Monica Joan as the "mouth of babes". I find Monica Joan's musings elevating and I have been excited by the interplay of the quotes and lyrics in this show. Thank you very much for your reviews and support. I seem to revise the text every time I publish, never a final version, it seems. I know there is an Americanism here, but as it suited the story...
Song of Bernadette. Part 4. Of myths and men.
Shelagh had invited Patrick and Timothy for a supper at Nonnatus House. As the schedules of midwives were not similar, supper could mean a meal with some of the sisters or nurses, or a bite for just the three of them. With Timothy, it was hardly a quiet supper with regard to the level of noise. This time he was going to the cub meeting after supper and while helping his dad to set the table, he was describing some of the latest games they had invented at school yard. Shelagh took meat and cheese from the fridge and when she was seeking bread and cake, she saw Sister Monica Joan at the door.
"Ah. The lot of Abelard and me.* In domestic bliss, this time," she commented wryly.
Shelagh had long been familiar with the nonagenarian's idiosyncrasies. "Good evening, sister. Welcome to join us." She smiled to her, and was too focused at cutting the bread to be reminded of medieval romances.
Patrick appeared at the other door and greeted Sister Monica Joan. He took the bread and cake from Shelagh.
"So, it is four cups and plates. Timothy, say hello to Sister and take one more cup and plate with you to the table". Timothy bowed and said "Hi Sister" and went to the dining room with more china and came back for the bread and cake.
"You have such a sensible and a sweet son, Doctor," Sister Monica Joan beamed.
"Thank you, Sister. His prospects seem to have improved... by the latest happy events, I mean." Shelagh silently admired his courage to not beat about the bush.
"Yes, true, Doctor. And your prospects, too, I should say." Patrick and Shelagh exchanged furtive glances and both hoped that the water would boil very soon.
"I should say that you truly followed the course: Gather ye rosebuds while ye may...**"
"Yes, Sister." Patrick was a bit nervous about where this was heading.
"I must say that you followed that course in such a rapid manner, and yet with such appropriateness, that we can't blame you for robbing our Heloise from us."
"Sister Monica Joan", he said wincing, "you know that I am not as well educated in classics as you, so I can't right now remember Heloise's fate. But I hope that you do not feel so very deprived without Shelagh."
" Shelagh was always one of the meek. She will inherit the earth. Unlike the other nuns or nurses, she was never much after cake."
Patrick and Shelagh couldn't help laughing at this, over making tea.
"Thank you, Sister, I am glad of your good opinion", Shelagh said, trying to keep a straight face. "Let's go to the table. It's cinnamon cake today".
After one cup of tea, two loaves of bread and a large piece of cake, Timothy excused himself and left for the cub meeting. Patrick allowed himself to secretly hold Shelagh's hand under the table now, and they kept stealing glances and smiles. The conversation was, as always with Sister Monica Joan, fragmentary and surprising.
"Tell me, Doctor, do you think that you could have...found each other without gamma rays? Surely you know that they are from the galaxy of Andromeda. A most radioactive constellation." Shelagh and Patrick, bemused, decided to nod in perfect unison, even if Patrick's face revealed that he wasn't certain of this choice.
"Sister, as a doctor, I believe that gamma rays may play a role in universe, as in diagnostics, but how does Andromeda relate to them?" he inquired.
"Oh you know the myth of Andromeda. A king's daughter tied to the rock, until the gallant Perseus saved her. Some need saving from other situations. Shelagh, or Sister Bernadette as she was then, seemed sometimes like between a rock and a hard place."
"Please, Sister", Shelagh intervened with some anxiety, "my path was indeed hard, but not that hard. I know you were worried over my sadness, but everything turned out to the best. Oh don't you think so?"
Sister Monica Joan patted her hand. "Certainly, my child, certainly. I have seen so many happy endings—and unhappy, too. If the stars are at a right alignment, who can be against us? Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us...from God. But Andromeda..."
Shelagh, who understood Bible, could see some point in the declarations of this endearing, perplexing Sibylla. Even Patrick, who had previously deemed her senile, could not help being fascinated by her poetic statements.
"Yes, what about Andromeda, the goddess of radioactivity?" he heard himself saying.
"Oh, she had Autochtche and Gorgophone."
"Ermmmm...who are they?" Shelagh asked.
"Daughters. Babies of female sex. Of Andromeda and Perseus. How many daughters are you going to have?"
The glorious names seemed to be the final straw. Patrick and Shelagh found themselves helpless with laughter. Shelagh hid her red face against Patrick's waistcoat. Sister Monica Joan seemed unperturbed by this reaction.
"It is good to think of these things properly, my children." She sighed. "It was a good cake. You take my advice and think about it. I will retire to the privilege of silence". And she left.
The pair was left sitting with the hot potato. Finally, Shelagh let her eyes meet Patrick's.
"Well, Perseus." He started to hoot again and gave her one kiss, then two, and embraced her tightly. Strengthened by this, she asked with a trembling voice: "Seriously, Patrick, would you mind having a baby?" He cupped her face and let her see his wide grin. "Sure. Sure I would like to have a daughter called Gorgophone. With you." And they kissed again, in total contentment.
* Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope (in Ep. 5: But now no face divine contentment wears,'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.)
** To the Virgins, to make much of Time, Robert Herrick
Why Do Fools Fall In Love
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Ooh wah, ooh wah
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of the day
Why do they fall in love?
Why does the rain fall from up above?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
Love is a losing game
Love can be a shame
I know, Im a fool you see
For that fool is me
Tell me why
Tell me why
Why do birds sing so gay
And lovers await the break of the day
Why do they fall in love?
Why does the rain fall from up above?
Why do fools fall in love?
Why do they fall in love?
Why does my heart
Skip a crazy beat?
For I know
It will reach defeat
Tell me why
Tell me why
Why do fools fall in love?
Tell me why
Tell me why