A/N: Please leave a review. They make me happy. I hope this fic makes you happy.


My Dear Friend,

Lately, I find myself slipping into moments of somber reflection. I am finding it increasingly difficult to stay concentrated on the task at hand. I feel as if my right arm has been removed from my body. Although I know why I feel this way, I also know that I do not deserve to feel this way. I am worried about you and, although I know your body is healing, I long to know how you are faring in mind and soul from you and no one else.

During the Antenatal Clinic this afternoon, I was taking a break in the kitchen in the exact same spot where I kissed your palm. I was thinking how much the clinic was missing something. I was thinking how empty the room felt even though it was full of the noisy activity of the nurses, sisters, mothers-to-be and their energetic children. I was thinking about the last time we were in that room together when I transformed everything the day of the Fete.

As I was lost in these thoughts and playing distractedly with a biscuit, Nurse Franklin came in and broke my concentrated reverie. She has begrudgingly assumed your nappy folding demonstrations and, in her inimitably cheeky fashion, offered to trade with me. I took that opportunity to inquire after you. When she informed me that you had been corresponding with her with regularly, I fear I did not react with much of the professional composure for which I am famous. I nearly broke a mug as it fell from my hands into the sink! To compound poor Nurse Franklin's obvious confusion regarding my reaction, I think I repeated one of those phrases that only Nurse Noakes can utter with any kind of respectability but from me sounded thoroughly ridiculous indeed.

Never have I uttered a more insincere phrase. I was taken off guard with my reaction. My experiences during The Blitz, the RAMC, and years as a physician have taught me self-control and self-denial. I am shocked at the sense of desolation this silence is putting me into and that I am utterly unable to master the turmoil of emotions inside me. I find I am selfishly disappointed that you haven't written to me as well, or at least to Timothy. Then I berate myself for even considering that I deserve one iota of attention and concern from you.

Timothy asked when we might hear of you again. When I informed him that Nurse Franklin was making a visit, he asked her to deliver a package to you. I can't help but imagine the radiant smile that will light up your face when you see what is inside. I hope it puts the sparkle back in your eyes as it did mine. It was his idea completely and he has informed me in no uncertain terms that you and you alone can provide the answer to him. I think he is trying to find a connection to you. I had not realised that he feels it that strongly. There were glimpses of it but I rationalised it as nothing more than a school-boy infatuation based on gratitude. I certainly could not fault his taste. I admit that the less than generous side of me hopes that his package might spur you to response, if not for my sake, then for his. He misses you. We miss you. I miss you.

Your Devoted,

P.