A/N: Back again! Oh dear, I do seem to enjoy embarrassingpoor Tim. Enjoy!
Patrick, while all this was going on, was at Nonnatus House. He had popped in on his way home from the surgery to drop off the box of surgical equipment for Nurse Crane, when all he really wanted was to be back with Shelagh, Tim and Angela, and the nurses who's visit he had helped arrange. He wandered the halls, which were strangely quiet with the absence of the nurses and Sister Winifred out on call, and when he called Nurse Crane's name, all he could hear was his own tired voice echoing down the empty corridor. He sighed, resigned to the fact he'd have to leave the box in the kitchen and face the wrath of Phyllis the next day, and took a step through the door. Then he froze.
Sister Julienne. Sitting at the empty table, her head in her hands and her shoulders shaking.
He coughed, and saw her shoulders tense. He opened his mouth to say something about the box of equipment in his arms, but as she looked up slowly and their gazes met, he knew that wasn't why he had made her aware of his presence. The kitchen was shrouded in shadows; there was only one small light on, and the nun looked almost like a ghost waiting there in the darkness.
"Shelagh." The way she said it carried questions, fear, sadness and guilt. Her face was heavily lined, her eyes pools of grief and loneliness.
"She's fine. But you hurt her badly. And she misses you." The angry speech Patrick had had ready to spew forth dissolved in an instant as he saw the change in Sister Julienne, and his heart ached. She needed his wife almost as much as Shelagh needed her. He sat down across from the nun, and listened.
"I didn't mean...I panicked. Everyone was so happy, and I was so sad because of Sister..." She trailed off, swallowing. "I couldn't see how everyone could be so happy at a time when my heart was breaking. And I looked to Sister Bernadette for support." Her voice cracked. "And she wasn't there. Only someone starting a new life, someone I barely knew who didn't need me." Her river of words at last ran dry, and she sat there, staring at her hands.
The two of them sat in silence until Patrick could bear it no longer. "Come and see her."
Sister Julienne looked up, and smiled weakly. "I... I have a feeling she won't want to see me."
"You need to come and see her, before the baby's born. Both of you need that." He pushed his chair back, standing up. The room was dark, and draining, and he just wanted to be back with the woman he loved more than anything in the world. As he reached the door, he ran a hand through his hair and paused. "You need to know; I'm still impossibly mad at you. I'm doing this for Shelagh, because she still loves you and I love her."
Sister Julienne watched his retreating back and let the tears that were pricking at her eyes fall freely. Me too, she thought.
As Patrick opened the door to the flat, he could hear peals of laughter coming from the living room, as he tried to shake away the conversation he had just gone through with Sister Julienne. He tiptoed down the hall and peered round the door, grinning at the scene that met his eyes.
Angela in her sunshiny pinafore was perched on a pile of discarded dresses, looking rather like a little yellow bird in a nest of maternity clothes, while Tim leant on the arm of the couch still in his old school uniform, looking both horrified and amused at the proceedings. His wife was lying on the couch, her feet propped up on a resigned looking Barbara's lap and her face flushed with laughter, while Patsy and Delia had fashioned nurse's hats out of paper and had them perched precariously and wonkily on their heads. Patsy was in the middle of a remarkably accurate impression of Nurse Crane, one hand resting on Shelagh's baby bump and Delia was struggling to keep a straight face as she pretended to be Patsy.
But the crowning glory of this scene was Trixie. She was decked out in one of Patrick's old doctor's coats which Tim had procured from his parent's bedroom, and had a tie draped around her neck that he was sure he had worn only a couple of days ago. She had her back to the door, and was pacing up and down in a remarkable imitation of most father's to be during labour, every so often pretending to run her hand though her hair in a manner not unlike Patrick himself. At one point, she cried out: "But Nurse Crane, I am a doctor! Surely I should be allowed in the room!" in a melodramatic tone, and Patrick had to laugh, revealing his presence.
Tim's eyes widened, Delia's hand flew to her mouth and Patsy flushed bright red, while Shelagh laughed and Angela cried "Daddy!" Barbara watched Trixie intently as she turned to face Dr Turner, painfully aware how obvious it was who Trixie was pretending to be. The doctor in question smiled.
"Hello Nurse Franklin."
Trixie grinned. "Dr Turner, you're just in time to witness the birth of your son, Gabriel Reverend Applebee Thornton."
Everyone burst out laughing as Patrick raised an eyebrow. He decided it was best not to ask. He grabbed the doctor's coat from Trixie and draped it around his own shoulders, stepping towards Shelagh. "Well, if that's the case, I do believe the mother of this unfortunately named child needs the help of a proper doctor."
Trixie put her hand to her heart in mock offence as Barbara and Patrick helped Shelagh sit up. Tim, meanwhile, groaned. He recognised the looks on their faces.
"Look out Angela," he hissed. "Mushy stuff lies ahead." Patsy laughed.
Shelagh blushed at this, while Patrick took it as an invitation to kiss his wife, kneeling down in front of her and cupping her cheek in his palm. The nurses were unsure whether to look away or not; they felt almost as if they were intruding, yet the sheer amount of love was fascinating and oh so lovely. Patsy felt a pang of regret as she watched; she and Delia could never kiss like that, with such freedom and with the knowledge that it was viewed as right. Though, she supposed, there were those – still – who believed this marriage was wrong due to Mrs Turner having once been Sister Bernadette, and she figured Shelagh understood her more than she initially thought.
Shelagh pulled away first, gently and looking rather embarrassed yet deliriously happy. She smiled up at the nurses. "Thank you so much for coming. I've had a wonderful time."
"As have we," put in Trixie, pleased that they had managed to cheer Shelagh up, but aching inside at this picture of happy marriage she might have had not so long ago.
Delia, who was helping Patsy put on her coat, smiled and Barbara bit her lip. "Will we see you at clinic this week?" the young midwife asked hopefully, hoping to get some time with Shelagh.
Patsy smiled. "I'm afraid I've got Mrs Turner scheduled in on my rounds for the next few weeks," she said, sounding rather pleased that she was the chosen one. As the nurses said their goodbyes and were walking out the door, Patsy hissed to Barbara: "Sister Julienne will be there."
Patrick swallowed nervously as the door shut. Sister Julienne. He believed he had a reconciliation to organise, and he wasn't particularly looking forward to it.
