The Waltz Is Out

The next Wednesday evening Patrick was again out in the Poplar streets to have a cup of coffee. This time he walked past the Community Centre and heard loud dance music from an open window. What on earth was happening?

From the other side of street he could see the tall frame of Patsy Mount dancing with someone. He decided he had to pop in and check what was taking place.

The sounds of a serene waltz by Strauss were accompanied by Fred's army voice. "ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three...".

He opened the door and took a breath at the threshold while watching the scene. Fred and Shelagh were dancing together.

Then he cleared his throat.

The dancers stopped and looked at him astonished.

He waved his hand. "Hello. A nice party...?"

Shelagh recovered first. "Oh, you spoiled a surprise. Why are you not at that cafe...?" she blurted out.

"So. You know that I hang there instead of going home?" he said.

"Of course I know. I know you. Well, it doesn't matter. Please, meet Fred and Ginger, at your service, waltzing. Fred and Patsy are teaching us to dance, I mean."

"I should have guessed. It seems I have to thank you again, Fred, for teaching my wife to dance."

The truth was, that during his time at war, his time at Northfield and even after that, Fred and his 16-year-old Dolly had acted as guardian angels to Moira. Or vice versa. Moira had helped with the evacuating of the lonesome Dolly to the country after the bombings had killed her other family, and she had kept an eye on her. Both families had suffered in the war, and it seemed that the temperament of the lively Fred wasn't made for silent grieving. He needed some action, and after a while he went back to the dance halls and dragged Moira and Dolly with him. He really could cut a rug, and Moira had no heart to say no to him when he wanted to teach her to dance. It had been a great help for her, too. Patrick had been drawn in to this informal therapy group after he came home, and this is when his love for waltz had begun. It was for him the ultimate dance. As Fred said, it was about protection. He had not been able to save Moira from all the aches and sorrows in this world, but he could waltz with her. This practice of non-verbal convalescence helped both families, and it had quietly ended only with the birth of Timothy and the marriage of Dolly.

Back to the presence. Shelagh looked lovely in high heels and a wide skirt. Patrick felt his eyes grow misty.

Immersed in this emotion, Patrick was slow to notice the other man on the floor. Vicar Tom Hereward.

So this was where they went so happily together.

"So, what is your strategic plan, Tom? You intend to shock your parish with your newly-acquired dancing skills?" he asked.

Shelagh snorted. "Oh Patrick. You have had your head in the clouds and in the past histories a bit too much recently. It is for Trixie, of course."

Patrick shook his head in disbelief and laughed. "No, I hadn't heard of that. To tell the truth, I saw you and Tom together the other day, obviously coming here. I didn't know that my devious wife, supposedly praying and having tea with the nuns at Nonnatus, had joined a commando group to conquer the heart and the stiletto feet of Nurse Franklin."

"The things we do, we men, for our women," sighed Tom, light-heartedly. "I offered her a Bible group but that didn't strike a right note."

"So, now that you are here, Doctor, you can take a swing with your lady wife?" asked Fred.

Patrick walked slowly to Shelagh and smiled wanly. He put his one arm around her waist and took her by the hand. Her eyes shone brightly and her lips trembled. She leaned unto him, so that she could whisper in his ear:

"Still begging for more, my Doctor?"

Patrick felt an urge to lift her up and swing her around in his arms. Instead he bit his lip, to repress the need to laugh aloud and responded:

"Still begging. Till death us do part."


After some delicious moments of waltzing, Shelagh stopped rather abruptly.

"What is it?" Patrick asked.

"There's something I'd like to do."

"What, dear?"

"I'd like to have some breakfast. Preferably some fried bread. At Caprioni's."

"Good for you! Let's do that."

"And let's take Timothy, too."

"Yes. We will do that."