Afternoon tea, in Sister Monica Joan's book, was, after prayers , the Great Silence and other religious tasks, the most sacred time of the day. Quite why anyone would want to interrupt the routine of Tea and Cake was beyond her.
When the door bell rang just as she was enroute to the kitchen she was not overly welcoming. Technically she wasn't supposed to open the door, as she couldn't be fully relied upon to be of any use to the person on the other side, particularly if she wasn't having a lucid moment. But at that point in time, blinded by the thought of a Victoria Sponge, she forgot, and opened the door.
A tall man with very nice eyes, she thought, stood on the other side.
"uh, hello – " he began "is this Nonatus house?"
"It is indeed, and it is also, in case you haven't noticed, tea time" the nun replied.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry, I'm looking for –"
"Your wife isn't in labour?" Monica Joan enquired, though quite why a husband would be dithering about on the steps instead of phoning one of the midwives, she didn't know.
"My wife? No -"
"Good, then it can wait." Monica Joan ushered him inside. "You can wait in the parlour if you like"
"Actually, I need to speak to Sister Juli-"
Sister Monica Joan led the man down the hallway and in to the parlour indicating the armchair he was to sit in. "I'll let the Sister know, she can speak with you shortly"
With that she departed. Unfortunately as soon as tea began and the sponge was set infront of her, Monica Joan forgot all about the man she had left in the parlour, and passing on the message.
It was Sister Winnifred who found him there, 25 minutes later. "Oh!" She exclaimed in shock, as she rounded the corner, not expecting anyone to be there. "Can I help you?"
"I'm after Sister Julienne, an elderly Nun let me and told me she would fetch her, but….."
"It wasn't sister Monica Joan was it? She isn't all there I'm afraid. Sister Julienne is out at a birth. Can I be of any help?"
"You may well be. I'm looking for a Sister Bernadette" He says the name cautiously, it sounding foreign on his tongue.
"Sister Bernadette? We haven't got a Sister Bernadette" Sister Winifred said confused.
"Or a Shelagh Manion? Blond hair, Blue eyes, erm Scottish" He continued
"Oh! Shelagh, Doctor Turners wife." Sister Winifred exclaimed. "Yes, how can I help you?"
Shelagh put the iron back in its place with thunk and surveyed her handiwork. Patrick and Tims shirts were neatly starched and pressed, the bed linens had been ironed to within an inch of their life and so had her Sunday dress.
Angela was dozing in her pram outside the backdoor and Tim was just finishing up his homework.
Not bad for an afternoons work she thought.
Heaving the washing basket up in her arms she decided to take the ironing upstairs before starting on the evening meal. She was halfway up when the door bell rang.
"Tim dearest, can you get that for me please?" she called.
Tim swung the door open, expecting to see Colin or one of his other playmates. Instead he was confronted with a sandy haired gentleman who was even taller than Dad.
"Is Shelagh there please?" he asked, his words mumbling and a bit unclear, if Tim hadn't been so used to Shelagh's own Scottish lilt, he might not have understood.
"Yes" Tim replied, turning and yelling up the stairs "Mum, its for you! It's a man"
"Well take his name and let him in then!" Shelagh called back "I'll be down in a second"
"This way" Tim said, leading the man into the living room. "What's your name?"
"Uh Greg" The man replied.
"Greg? you don't sound too sure about that!"
Greg was saved the need to reply by the sound of Shelagh's footsteps on the stairs.
"Sorry about that" she said as she entered the room " I was just-" she looked up and caught sight of the man stood before her, her arm suddenly flying out to grip the back of the armchair as she felt her knees almost give way in shock.
"Oh My" She exclaimed, as Tim was by her side in an instant.
"Mum, are you ok?" He asked, as her face paled.
"Hello Shelagh" Greg said shyly
"Is that you?" Shelagh blinked hard, staring at the man "No, it can't be! You were-" Shelagh stuttered
"It is me, Shelagh, It's Greg" He smiled
Shelagh stood motionless her gaze not moving from Greg. Tim moved to stand in front of her protectively.
"Do you have any whisky?" Greg asked Tim
"Whisky?"
" I think you may need to pour your mammy a wee dram, she's had a bit of a shock"
"Mum are you ok" Tim asked again, concerned
"A whisky would be good Tim" Shelagh replied, patting his arm gently. She lowered herself into the arm chair and motioned for Greg to do the same.
"They told us you were Missing In Action. We, well, I ,thought you were dead." Shelagh said "I held out hope, but then as the years went passed and we heard nothing –"
"I know. I may as well have been. I was a P.O.W Shelagh"
Tim, upon hearing this, poured a second Whisky for this Greg person.
He carried the glasses over to the adults and handed them out.
"Thank you Timmy" Shelagh said with a smile. Tim settled himself on the arm of the chair next to Shelagh.
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Tim asked
Tim was expecting Greg to speak, but it was Shelagh who answered. "This is Greg . He's my older brother"
"You said he died in the war?"
"That's what we thought" Shelagh replied, looking at Greg.
"I was shot down" he explained "Then taken to a POW Camp in Burma. I was 24 hours away from death myself when the camp was liberated. I spent 2 years in a Singaporean hospital before I was considered even fit for travel. Then I tried to get on a plane, but I just couldn't. Still can't in fact. I tried sending letters, but I didn't realise about Dad and the house…." He stopped. He didn't know Shelagh's side of it yet, but he sensed it was a sore subject.
"It was 1949 by the time I reached the UK. I found out about Dad and everything, and I set out trying to find you. All anyone could tell me was that you had gone to nursing college in London. I tried to search for you, but all records of a Shelagh Manion just stopped from 1948, it was as if you had also disappeared."
Shelagh smiled. All records had stopped in 1948, it was the year she'd become Sister Bernadette.
"How did you find me?"
"I went to a funeral of a work colleague about 6 months ago. I got chatting to one of the wives of another colleague. She commented that my accent reminded her of someone she'd done her nurses training with. It transpired she knew you, or had known you, and she told me she thought you'd joined the holy orders, but she couldn't remember which ones. So I contacted all the convents in the South East, which lead me to the Mother House in Chichester, which lead me to Nonnatus….."
"…..and from Nonnatus to here" Shelagh smiled and finished off the last of her whisky before rising.
"I can't believe it! You're alive!" She exclaimed, Greg also stood, and gave his sister a bone crushing hug.
"Me neither" he said as he released his grip and held her at arms length. "Look at my wee little golden girl, all grown up, you look just like mum!"
Being nearly 10 years older, Greg had much better memories of their mother.
"Ouch get away with you!" Shelagh said, though she was secretly pleased.
"Can you tell me all the embarrassing stories about Mum when she was little?" Tim wanted to know.
"I'm sure I can" Greg replied
"We've got so much to catch-up on" Shelagh said "I can't wait."