Timothy Turner had forgotten his packed lunch.

It had happened before and had been forgiven before, and it was likely to happen again. Tim's dad was a widower, after all, and to complicate the case even further the man was a doctor who had too little time on his hands as it was. Remembering to make a packed lunch was a responsibility that fell to Timothy whenever it was necessary to pack one for a Cubs outing. That Tuesday, when Tim realized he had nothing to eat while they were searching for animal tracks in the forest, he was not too surprised when Bagheera said he had some extra food he could share.

Bagheera was a fun leader, not quite as good as Akela, but he was still really nice. He was leading their outing since Akela had just had a baby. When it came time for lunch he handed Tim one of his sandwiches and offered an oily paper bag of yesterday's soggy chips, of which Timothy took as few as possible without seeming rude. He settled on the ground behind a circle of fellow Cubs who were comparing the lunches their mothers had packed, and he was thinking about the time – Dad was still at the clinic – when the hefty leader took a seat on a rock next to him.

Tim smiled up at him from his spot on the grass. "Thanks, Bagheera. I'm sorry I forgot my lunch again."

A large hand with thick fingers was waved dismissively. "Fink nuffin' of it, fink nuffin' of it. Always have too much anyways, don' I?" He rolled a fat hand over his big belly and chuckled a little bit.

Timothy laughed, too, then took a bite of the sandwich. Normally Tim would be more excited about a countryside outing, but today was different. Today he was preoccupied – that was a word Dad had used once – and every time he tried to focus on finding animal tracks with his friends, he thought instead of Dad and Shelagh, of the hours and hours that would drag on until he got home, and of what Dad would say when he got there. Timothy didn't mind that he sat a bit away from his friends today, because his mind was still on whether he should have drawn a butterfly on Shelagh's note or whether Dad would have had the time to find the ribbon. He sure hoped so.

"Nice day today, innit?" Bagheera smiled down at him.

It was a really nice day, sunny but a little windy. Two Cubs had already had to chase their caps that had flown off. If he hadn't been on this outing Timothy would probably be spending the day with Shelagh. It had been a fantastic half-term, the best holiday in a long time, thanks to her. Today was his first day away from her, and though it had hardly been a week since she had properly settled into his life, he found himself missing her company. As he nodded an answer to his leader's remark about the weather, Timothy wondered what Shelagh would be doing today. All the rest of the days she'd been home had been spent at his house, cooking or playing with Tim or going to the park with him. She never grew bored of hearing about butterflies or amphibians, and even though he knew he should let her ears rest, Timothy never tired of talking about them. The nuns were always doing something, and in all the time he'd known her he had never seen Shelagh – or Sister Bernadette as she'd been – just sitting around doing nothing. She was always busy. But what do you do once you aren't a nun anymore? There's no prayer ritual, and Timothy reckoned she couldn't be a midwife anymore now that she left Nonnatus. What was there to do but read or clean or cook things? When she went to his and Dad's house she did just that, and she seemed to genuinely enjoy it all, which Timothy found to be quite strange.

"Was a nice evenin' last night, too," Bagheera continued, unaware of the boy's thoughts. Above him, Bagheera studied his own sandwich then said in a low voice so only Timothy could hear, "I 'fink I seen your dad and Sister Bernadette out takin' a stroll last nigh'."

Tim felt his ears get warmer while he picked at his portion of the greasy chips he'd been offered. No one had told Timothy to be secretive about Shelagh's new part in their lives, yet he still had the feeling that he should be careful of his words. The two times he'd asked her about the nuns she'd looked like she was going to cry, so he knew her leaving the church was a tender subject. He didn't want to give up too much information, so instead of replying to Bagheera's comment, Timothy stuffed one of the shiny chips into his mouth and regretted it immediately.

The man seemed unphased by the lack of response, and he was flipping his sandwich over and over. When he spoke his voice was still low and secretive. "How's she doin' then? The little Sister? She doin' alrigh'?"

Timothy looked at an ant crawling in the grass by the rock. "She's called Shelagh now. Dad makes me call her Auntie Shelagh," Timothy muttered, continuing their unspoken pact to avoid eye contact. It was rather like a spy movie, when the two spies pretended to talk in other directions so they didn't give away that they knew each other.

"Sheeler," Bagheera said in that funny Cockney way of his. "Blimey. Name don't seem do fit her, do it? She's always gonna look like a Sister Bernadette t' me, mefinks."

Timothy shrugged and chanced a quick look at Bagheera's face. "That's what I thought at first, too, but I think she's even better as Shelagh."

Bagheera was still looking away, like he was studying some branches on a far off tree. "So you been seein' a lot of 'er then?"

Tim weighed the consequences of truly opening up to him. Bagheera was not known to be a gossip, and he was a kind, jolly man. He'd known Shelagh when she was a nun for a lot longer than Timothy had known her, so maybe he missed her friendship. It wouldn't hurt to tell him that she was doing well, that she seemed happier now than she'd ever been as a nun, that she was great fun.

With a subtle nod Timothy finally answered. "She's been by every day for nine days. Today is the first day I haven't seen her, but that's okay because she and Dad-"

He stopped himself before it was too late. No matter what, he could not tell Fred that Dad was asking Shelagh to marry him today. That was private, and even though the concept was still somewhat hazy to the ten-year-old, privacy was something that adults seemed to be really cross about when it was ruined. So in an effort to eat the words he had begun to let slip, Timothy took a large bite of Fred's spare sandwich.

Once again the man didn't seem to notice. "Your Dad was smilin' an awful lot, weren't he then? I saw 'em last night and I says to meself, I says, 'That there is the happiest I ever seen the good doctor.' And it's true, innit? Never seen 'im so pleased lookin'."

For some reason Timothy smiled without meaning to. Bagheera's words were completely true. Dad was happier now that Shelagh was around. "She's going to take me to the science museum after school next week," Timothy volunteered, feeling proud that Bagheera seemed to approve. "Dad never has time to take me anymore, and I haven't been back since... since my mum took me..."

Timothy was aware his last few words were quieter than the rest, and he aimed to hide his sudden discomfort by tucking into the sandwich again. He could feel Bagheera's eyes on him, studying him between bites, and after a while he looked up and found his troop leader smiling down at him.

"My Dolly lost 'er mum young, too, during the war. I never did find no one who could take 'er mum's place. See, there's something you look for in a person, and if you found it once, it's rare to find it again. Siste- erm, Sheeler," Fred coughed, "she must be real special if your dad's been spendin' so much time with 'er."

Timothy tugged at the grass tickling his ankles. He had been thinking about his mother a lot lately. It was hard to avoid, since Shelagh was all of a sudden filling a void he and Dad had worked so hard to pretend didn't exist. Every day there were little reminders of Mummy because of Shelagh, and strangely he was not upset by them. She wore Mummy's apron, for instance, and Shelagh played his mother's favorite records without even knowing. It was nice.

He found that he didn't remember much about Mummy these days. He'd gotten over the crying bit a little over a year ago, and that was good. Now he seemed to be growing up and forgetting more and more as the weeks went on. Timothy's memories of Mummy were almost all blurry now. Sometimes he would catch scent of a banana and think of her, leaning over the kitchen hatch, peeling one for her and one for little Timmy. She said she loved them, that they didn't have bananas during the war and she'd never thought much of them then but fell head over heels for them afterward. That was the first time Tim had heard the term "head over heels," and he still had that strange childish mental picture of his mother cartwheeling down a row of banana trees. There were a few other things that reminded him of her: Dad's shaving lotion and how it would mix with the powdery scent of Mummy's clothes; playing in the sea as she held him and the waves crashed onto his back while she sang nursery rhymes in his ear; the way she ran her hand through Tim's hair at night and traced her thumb on his cheek. Shelagh had done that the first night, that day they had found her on the road in the wrong clothes.

Timothy considered Bagheera's words as Gary and Jack began shoving each other and causing a momentary distraction. Shelagh was special. He knew that, he'd always known that, but then there was something more. It wasn't just how nice she was or that she would play chess with him or talk about butterflies with him. That was all just part of it. Shelagh made Dad better, and she made Timothy better. They acted... gosh, they acted happy for the first time in a really, really long time, almost like a real family again instead of just a dad trying to pretend it was all normal for his son. When Shelagh was around Dad was all smiley and his shoulders weren't stiff and he didn't frown with his eyebrows as much. He liked to lean on things and he always looked relaxed, and he joked with Tim and mussed his hair and hugged him. Gosh, Timothy thought, if that was all from a week and a half, what would happen if Dad and Shelagh really did get married? Dad would be practically unrecognizable.

"What time is it, Bagheera?" Timothy asked, eager for the hours to pass. How long until Dad would ask her? Would she like his drawing?

Bagheera looked funny and chuckled a bit as he looked at his watch. Crumbs flew from his mouth as he said, "Third time you asked today, innit? Almost four now."

Timothy smiled. Dad would be in his last hour of clinic soon. He wondered if his father was more nervous than that morning. Tim had noticed the way he kept staring at nothing with wide eyes, and how his voice had wavered a little when he laughed. He hadn't eaten any breakfast.

"Bagheera, do you think-"

"Henry Walker you git back over here righ' now or I'll tell your mum you wasn't payin' attention to your elders again!" Bagheera shouted over Timothy's words, not hearing.

Timothy's eyes followed to the tiny boy by the river's edge who had just joined the group a couple weeks ago, inching closer and closer to the water despite Bagheera's threat. His head shot back and forth between his leader and his fellow scout, watching as the kid smirked at Bagheera and the man muttered.

"Well," said Bagheera, bracing his hands on his bare knees and straining to rise from the boulder, "next time you see 'er, you make shore and tell 'er that ol' Fred says 'ello."

As Timothy watched the large man walk surprisingly fast toward the river's edge, he smiled. Next time he saw Shelagh he guessed they would have a whole lot to talk about.