Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm so sorry to those of you who were reading this on Wordpress! I know it has taken taken me ages to update but here it finally is! I had this half written but then I got a bit stuck and then my health deteriorated a bit and I've been in and out of hospital so things have been a bit hectic here. But the next chapter should be along very soon! TRIGGER WARNING as always! Also, I understand that this is a very sensitive issue I am writing about, and I am dealing with it as carefully as possibly, but if you have any issues with what I have written or how I have described what the characters are going through, please don't hesitate in contacting me! All rights go to Jennifer Worth and Heidi Thomas!

Earlier in the day, Patrick was sitting at his desk. As he tapped his pen against his paperwork, his mind began to wonder to Shelagh. Why had she been acting so strange last night and this morning? It was like she couldn't bear to be in the same room as him. She couldn't even look him in the eye.

A sinking feeling swarmed him; perhaps Shelagh was going off him. Maybe the very thing he had constantly been dreading was happening. Shelagh had finally realised that she deserved better than him, and was regretting her decision to marry him. What if she had met someone else?

Shaking himself as he felt his insides churn, Patrick decided to get on with his paperwork. Whatever was the matter, he would find out and put it right. Tonight.

After dinner Shelagh put Angela to bed, taking as long as she could to avoid spending time alone with Patrick. She knew he wanted to talk but she didn't know if she was strong enough to provide the answers.

"Tea?" Patrick asked from the kitchen hatch as Shelagh returned to the living room. Timothy was staying with Granny Parker tonight, and Shelagh wished more than anything that tonight he could be in his bedroom listening to his wireless, or playing with his spitfire (that he assured his parents he was far too old for, but still flew around the privacy of his bedroom), or reading well into the night when he should be sleeping. Checking on Timothy would have provided another distraction from the conversation she was about to have with Patrick. Timothy was the strongest boy she knew she knew, and she needed his strength.

"Yes please."

As he brought in two cups from the kitchen, Patrick sat next to Shelagh on the sofa. For a few minutes, a pregnant pause filled the air as the couple sipped their tea, each willing the other to say something. Anything.

"So," Patrick began apprehensively. This was it, Shelagh thought. "What happened last night?"

Shelagh gulped. "What do you mean?"

"You've been quiet since you got home. Did something happen? Something with Mrs Watson's labour?" Looking his wife in the eye and taking her hand, he continued. "My love, you know you can tell me anything."

Before she could help it, tears slowly began to trail down her cheeks, one after another.

"Shelagh, please talk to me."

Looking into the brown eyes of her husband, Shelagh saw nothing but love and devotion. Taking a breath, she knew he was there for her.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I'm so, so sorry." She'd said these words before, with the same tears running down her beautiful pale face, and his left hand in her right, each gripping for anchorage, when Timothy was ill with Polio and they weren't yet married. Her tears quickened in pace and force.

Holding her hand tighter, Patrick shifted further in his seat to face her. "For what, my love? What happened?"

Shelagh was breaking down in front of him and he was powerless. He had never seen her so broken or dejected before, not even when they got the infertility results.

Her silent tears had turned into quiet sobs as she finally let the emotion of the last twenty-four hours envelope her. "I tried to fight, I promise I did. I tried to push him off me but he was too strong."

Piece by piece, through Shelagh's sobs, Patrick put the puzzle together. "Shelagh," Letting go of her hand and holding her by each shoulder, he looked directly into her tearful blue eyes. "Did someone hurt you? Were you - ?" He couldn't finish. The thought made him feel sick.

With the smaller of nods, her words came out as no more than a quiet whisper, but he heard them loud and clear.

"I was raped."

Thanks for reading :)