"Patrick! For the last time, I'm fine. Do stop hovering about."
Shelagh had been home for a little over an hour and Patrick hadn't moved more than 10 feet away from her at any given time. While she appreciated the sentiment, she needed time to adjust to her surroundings without her husband underfoot.
"Sorry." Patrick said sheepishly and moved to the kitchen, fussing with the kettle and preparing a pot of tea for them.
It was mid-morning, and with Angela at Nonnatus being looked after by the Sisters and Timothy in school, it was just the two of them. Feeling slightly awkward sitting on the couch, Shelagh stood up and started walking around the living room to get a better look at the photos and mementos on the sideboard and mantle.
There were several photos she could remember seeing on the random visits she had made to Doctor Turner's flat when she was Sister Bernadette. Lining the shelves were photos of Timothy as a baby, Patrick's graduation from medical school, as well as Tim's hat from the Cubs, now much too small for his head. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of two trophies, one smaller than the other. The small one was a first place trophy for the three-legged race at the 1958 Poplar fete. The larger of the two was more ornate, engraved in a fancy calligraphy 'First Place. Poplar Chorale Society.1959'. Neither of these looked familiar, and she could never imagine Patrick as part of a choir. 'That must be mine' shethought to herself.
Patrick watched her from the kitchen hatch, unsure if he should join her in the exploration of all that was unknown to her. As a doctor, he felt helpless. He could do nothing to help Shelagh except offer his support in trying to aid her memories.
After a few moments of silence, the kettle began to whistle, breaking Patrick out of his reverie. He quickly set about making the tea and put out some of Shelagh's favorite biscuits.
"Tea, love? Then afterwards, I'll draw you a bath and you can rest before the children come home?"
Shelagh turned from the shelves and made her way back to the couch. Sitting beside him and taking the cup offered to her, she furrowed her brows looking at the tea tray.
"What are those?" She asked, pointing to the biscuits.
"Biscuits?"
"I know that, silly. But what kind are they? I've never seen them before." She said, picking one up and studying it.
'Right', thought Patrick. These were new. Shelagh had bought them a few weeks ago after seeing them in the shop and loved them immediately, hiding their location from him and Timothy. Patrick didn't see the allure of them, but in hindsight he wondered if it had been a pregnancy craving.
He watched his wife sniff the biscuit in her hand before taking a tentative bite. Patrick wanted to laugh, but realized it wouldn't be appropriate. Waiting to see if he should offer her something else, she smiled and took another bite.
"They're good! Granted, I've only had those terribly stale hospital biscuits for the past few weeks, but these are quite the improvement!" She laughed and settled back on the couch with her tea.
They shared their tea in silence. Both at a loss of what to do next. It was easy in the hospital, talk about the doctor's visits, see the children, take a walk. Now they were home, where the real work was just beginning.
"Patrick?" Shelagh whispered after a while.
"Yes, darling? Are you alright?" He was going to be on edge for some time, he realized.
"I'm fine. I just...would you mind terribly..."
"Anything, Shelagh. Name it and it's yours." He tried to reassure her nervousness.
"Could you show me around? I'm afraid this is the only room I know." She looked down at her lap.
Trying to hide his surprise so as not to upset his wife, he plastered a smile onto his face. "Ten cent tour, coming right up." He held out his hand to help her off the couch as they took a tour of the home they shared.