When her father dies, Anna Smith discovers that he has another daughter, named Shelagh.

Shelagh Mannion knew all her life that her father preferred his daughter Anna.

They are sisters, but resentment and pain keep them apart.

This is their way to make up for lost time.

Hi people, this is my first Downton Abbey and Call The Midwife fanfic, and as many of you know, English is not my first language, so please have mercy on me! I apologize if you see any errors.

Thanks for your time!

*1*

August 1964

"Mom, can I get some more sleep?"

She smiled, and stroked her son's hair.

"It's okay, just because you're on holiday. But then when you get up, we'll go buy your new uniform for school."

"No, I hate school!" The boy covered his head with his pillow, and shook his legs.

"But it's a new school, you'll love it!"

Laughing, she removed the pillow and kissed his forehead.

"Sleep a little more my love."

The boy made himself comfortable on his bed and immediately closed his eyes.

She closed the door slowly and went to the bathroom. There she combed her blonde hair looking intently at the new lines that appeared around her blue eyes. She turned on the light to see herself better, even though the sun was shining through the window.

"Oh no," she said, looking better at her face.

"What happened, love?" her husband came in smiling, "Good morning."

"New wrinkles," she said pointing to the person who was looking at her from the mirror, a person just like her but who seemed too old.

"Where? I see you perfect."

"Look, here and here," she approached the mirror, marking her face with her fingers, "That wasn't there yesterday!"

Her husband laughed, as always.

"You always look good, love. Don't worry about those things. Look at me, I have many more!"

"Wrinkles look better on men," she muttered and left the bathroom, hearing her husband's laugh again.

She tied her hair into a messy ponytail and looked around the kitchen. Complaining would not make breakfast, so she got to work. First she opened the window, it was too hot day, and all the heat seemed to have accumulated in the apartment. In fact, she had slept quite little at night due to the heat, and in addition to being wrinkled, she felt very tired.

Also, she felt nervous. But she did not want to think about that.

"John, do you have everything ready?" she asked when she saw her husband coming out of the bathroom, combing his hair.

"Everything is ready" he sat down to tie the laces of his shoes, "Although nothing will prepare me to travel by bus and then by subway with this summer day."

"Then I'll prepare clothes for you so that when you arrive, you can change. I don't want the employees to see the manager all dirty and sweaty on the fifth day of taking over the hotel."

"That's why you're my sunshine," John smiled, standing up, "I'll finish breakfast. What will you do today?"

"I'll go with Johnny to buy his uniform. And I'll see if the shops around need a clerk, or something I can do," she said, leaving the kitchen and entering the bedroom. Quickly, she opened the closet and was folding a T-shirt, a shirt, and another tie, and put them in a small bag, "Oh, I'll put your perfume too."

"Anna you don't have to," John leaned against the door, looking at her.

"You need your perfume, you will not be able to bathe when you arrive. Where did you put it?" she opened a closet drawer, and then another, until she found it.

"I didn't mean that. I meant you don't have to look for a job. We will live very well with my salary, you know it is an excellent job. And look, this flat is not bad at all."

"Yes, we live well but you are more than an hour from your work. If I earn money too, we can pay for something that is closer. Traveling so much every day will hurt you."

"That's not like that, because we both know that the old one here is you."

"John!"

He laughed, disappearing into the kitchen. She followed him with the bag in hand, saw him putting the teacups on the table.

"Sit down and have breakfast, stop complaining," her husband also put a plate of biscuits in front of her, "Besides, it makes no sense to live in the West End, we will become refined people and we don't like that, right?"

"No," she smiled slightly, concentrating on her tea.

John sat beside her, in silence. Without taking her eyes off her cup, she felt he was observing her, and she knew why.

The night before, she announced to him that she was going to do it. She would put all her courage to do it today, but that today had arrived, and she did not find that courage.

John wanted to cheer her up, if she just raised her eyes she knew she would meet his gaze, giving her confidence. Somehow, he was trying to repay her for the support she gave him when the offer of a position as manager of the most expensive hotel in London appeared. It meant leaving Yorkshire, leaving friends, and leaving Anna's job as a housekeeper for the Crawley family. She accepted despite all that, she was excited and happy that John had a unique opportunity, and immediately she began to pack all the belongings.

But just a month later, London became synonymous with something else. Something dark, something from the past that was suddenly spit out by her father before he died.

And Anna's enthusiasm faded, turned into a fake smile to support John and make her son feel comfortable, and nothing more.

"Anna is not an obligation that you do this. You lived years without knowing it, you can continue like this."

"The difference is that now I know it," she replied without looking at him, concentrating on destroying a biscuit next to her cup of tea, "We shouldn't live here."

"What?" he blinked, looked at the kitchen, "What's wrong with this? It is a modern and new building."

"I'm not talking about the building, I mean Poplar. We shouldn't be here. That's why I want us to move to another place."

"Anna we arrived a fortnight ago. Just because your sister lives here doesn't mean you find her every step of the way. Forget that."

Her lids tightened when he said "your sister". She had never heard that word related to her.

She had no brothers or sisters, until she knew that she had lived wrong.

Three months earlier.

"Relatives of Mr. Smith?"

They both stood up, looking at the doctor. They had been waiting in a corridor at the hospital for a few minutes, hoping there was good news. The doctor's face said otherwise.

"I'm afraid Mr. Smith is in a very delicate state."

She felt John's arm go around her, and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

"How long?" was all she could get out of her mouth, with a small voice.

"We don't think he'll get through tonight. I'm so sorry, ma'am."

"Can we see him?" asked John. He was very worried, and that made Anna love him even more, because her father had never been a good father-in-law, despite John's best efforts. But John esteemed him anyway, and respected him as his wife's father.

"Yes, you better see him now, but he can't speak."

The doctor stepped aside, then escorted them down a corridor to a room where Joseph Smith was dying, losing his battle against cirrhosis, a gift from his addiction to alcohol.

When Anna saw him, the man seemed even smaller and frailer than hours before, when he entered the operating room. However, he was agitated, nervous, and was moving his hands trying to remove the oxygen mask.

"Try to be calm," John said, and that earned him a stern look of contempt from the sick man.

"Dad, it's true, calm down. It will hurt you to be like this," Anna tried to smile at him, taking one of Joseph's thin hands.

But still, the man managed to remove his mask.

"I'll die anyway" he declared in a thick voice, "Darling, come here."

"What is happening Dad?" she leaned down, tried to put the mask on him, but surprisingly her father still had enough strength and did not allow her to do so.

"You have to know something," Joseph's voice came out a little clearer now, but it was strained, as if it really hurt him physically to pronounce the words, "I was a bastard all my life."

"Don't say that. Put this on, come on, "she tried to smile at him again, totally failing because her eyes were filling with tears from seeing her father's state.

"No!" Joseph removed her hand and threw the mask, which fell hanging from the bed, "If I hadn't been a bastard, I wouldn't be like this. I'm paying for everything I did."

"Well dad, I understand you. Don't worry about that now..." John handed her the mask, she tried to put it back where it should be.

"Leave me alone with that thing and listen to me!" Joseph began to cough, but pushed Anna's hands away. When the cough passed, he laid his head back on the pillow and looked his daughter in the eye, "There was another woman..."

Anna looked at John, who on the other side of the bed shook his head, sighing.

"Dad, that doesn't surprise me. You were always a heartbreaker," she giggled, trying to calm her father.

"There was another woman," he repeated, ignoring her, "There was another, in Scotland. My wife."

"What?" frowning, she looked into her father's eyes, "What do you mean by that?"

"She was my wife. Meredith, yes...She was my wife."

The word wife lit the wick of doubt.

Her father never married her mother. He said he was an anarchist and an atheist, and the marriage went against his convictions. Her mother, Muriel, was always "my love" or "my girl" to Joseph. Never "my wife". And Anna never heard the name Meredith.

"There's a girl, like you," Joseph whispered, calmer. John tried to put the mask on, the dying man pulled his hand away again, but weakly.

"Dad?"

"A girl. My daughter with Meredith. Shelagh. She was identical to her mother" he smiled, his mouth full of gaps and few teeth.

Anna looked at him, then at John, who shrugged.

"Dad, what are you saying?"

"She's a girl like you, yes. My girl," he whispered.

"Dad..." she looked at him carefully, she had never seen her father with a dreamy and serene face like that, apparently what he was remembering was something really beautiful. She licked her lips, trying to ask the question as subtly as possible, "Dad, do you have another daughter?"

But Joseph closed his eyes, shook his head.

Anna looked at her husband again, while her father coughed again. She was afraid to ask, and Joseph did not say anything else either. She let John put the mask on the man's face, and son-in-law and daughter sat on either side of the bed, waiting.

Joseph passed away three hours later.

/

"Do you see that little bird? It's just like you, tiny but loud."

She tickled the baby, who squirmed laughing in her arms.

She turned away from the window, and with the dexterity of a mother of many children, she began to make breakfast with one hand. Her son tried to grab everything, and she, laughing, gently scold him.

"Mom, I'm starving!"

"Good morning Mom, how are you this morning? I'm very good Timothy, and you?" she replied, mocking.

Her teenage son rolled his eyes, took the steps two at a time, and walked toward her.

"Good morning Mom, etcetera, etcetera. I'm starving!"

"That is a good sign, it means that your body wants strength to, for example, take care of your brother," quickly and before the boy could react, she left the baby in his arms.

"Mom! He'll make my clothes dirty!"

"Since when are you interested in your clothes?" She looked at him raising an eyebrow, causing the boy to blush.

"Maybe it has to do with Maggie's presence at the Scout meeting today," Patrick said, coming down the stairs. His son blushed even more, then made a disgusted face when his father kissed Shelagh on the lips.

"God, it's too early for this entire sweet monstrosity," Tim said, leading his little brother into the living room.

Patrick helped his wife bring tea to the table.

"Shelagh, you don't need to go to the prenatal clinic. Look how hot it is today, you can stay here and rest."

She looked at him, her hands on her hips.

"Is it really not necessary? I don't believe you at all."

"Well, you are very necessary, I'm not going to lie to you. But..."

"I'll go, Patrick. Also the girls love it, and so does Teddy. They already made a lot of friends. And I want to work!"

"All right, stubborn girl, I learned that I shouldn't discuss your decisions," raising his hands in innocence, her husband sat at the table and called Tim and the baby.

They started eating breakfast, making all kinds of funny faces and jokes to make Teddy laugh.

Then, as always, father and eldest son rushed out full of recommendations from Shelagh. She started cleaning, chatting with her baby son, and then woke up her two daughters.

"Today we will go to buy many things to make a delicious dinner. And in the afternoon, we have the clinic. You must behave very well because mom will be working, and dad too," Shelagh said as she combed the straight hair of both girls.

"And will Sister Julienne be there?" Angela asked.

"Yes. And also will be Sister Monica Joan, and Aunt Trixie, and all the nurses, and the moms with their babies, and their little siblings. And you can play a lot."

"But we will behave well," May declared.

"Of course you do," Shelagh gave each one a loud kiss on the cheek, "You will behave well because with Teddy, you are the most beautiful and educated children in the world."

/

John squeezed her hand, then stood up.

"I'll be late."

Anna stood up too, and handed him the bag with the clothes.

"Take care."

"You too. Anna, you know, if you don't want to, don't do it. But if you do it, you have my full support. Promise me that you will call me."

"John you'll be working..."

"Promise me that you will call me. I can't accompany you, but I don't want you to go through this alone."

She nodded and he kissed her forehead and kissed her lips.

"I love you. See you at night."

"I love you too. Good luck and take care of your leg."

John smiled at her, took his cane, and walked out the door. She stood there, watching him until he took the elevator and disappeared.

Anna began to clean up quickly and then woke her son up again.

Johnny got up very lazy and she waited for him with breakfast ready, while she made the shopping list.

"Good morning," said the boy yawning, sitting in front of his cup of warm milk.

"Good morning sleepyhead. Take your milk so we can go for a walk. Would you like to go to your new friend Jim's house this afternoon? I have to do some things."

"Can I go with you?"

"You won't like it, they are...very boring things."

"Fine. I'll bring my new car and my plane to play with Jim."

She smiled at the boy, watching him drink the milk, which left a funny mustache under his little nose.

She kept writing on the list, trying not to forget anything, although in reality her mind was full of other things.

Exactly three months ago, she was burying her father.

"Do you think what he said is true?" John asked her, once the commotion had passed, as they returned home from the funeral.

"For God sake, John. It was morphine who spoke. He was delirious."

"You know it could be true."

She still did not realize that her father had quickly fallen ill and died, so the outrage against her husband immediately emerged.

"How can you say that?! Yes, he wasn't the best man with you, but he loved me very much and also my mother, he could never do something like that! I know, he was an alcoholic and all that, but have another family? And in Scotland? He never went there.

"Anna, you told me that until you were 11 years old, your father went from here to there, traveling. Then he settled in your house."

"Because he changed jobs and started his greengrocer. He wasn't a bad guy, how can he have another woman, another daughter? It's nonsense!"

But just two days later, while they were in Joseph's small rented cottage, gathering his few belongings, John called her from the bedroom.

She had been putting plates and vases in a box, and went to meet her husband. She saw him with the nightstand drawer on the Joseph's bed, and a pile of photographs and papers.

"Anna, look at this," he said, handing her a photograph.

There was a girl with glasses and school clothes. On the back, written in a handwriting she didn't know, a simple name: "Shelagh Smith."

"What is this?" Anna said looking again at the girl in the photograph.

"There are letters here," John answered, rummaging through the papers, "And there are other photos."

Anna looked at the pictures. In all of them there was the same girl, sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger, sometimes alone, sometimes with a curly-haired woman, sometimes...with her father. With Joseph Smith.

"What is this?" she repeated, this time in a terrified whisper.

John put the pile of letters next to her. With shaking hands, she took them and read the return addresses. "Meredith Mannion" it said in many of them. In others, it said "Lorna Mannion."

"John..." she barely said, he took one of her hands, and squeezed it.

"Calm down, let's read them. Maybe it's not what we think, maybe he knew these people but when he told you he confused everything and said what he said."

John carefully opened one of the letters. It was a single paper, crumpled and yellow. Anna just watched him intently, unable to touch an envelope or another photograph.

Suddenly John put the letter down, with a sigh, and took another.

"What does it say?"

John did not respond and opened the envelope, one of which belonged to Lorna Mannion.

"God..." she heard him say.

"John?"

He put the letter aside, and looked at her. There was compassion in his eyes and it almost made her nauseous.

"I'm so sorry, Anna."

/

The doors of the Iris Knight Institute thundered open, giving way to three Turner children who entered with energy, their footsteps and laughter announcing the arrival of their weary mother.

"Good afternoon," Shelagh greeted her companions, then looked at her children, "I thought I told them to behave well, but you see..."

"Oh Shelagh they are children, what else could you expect?" Trixie, the nurse Shelagh had known for the longest, came over to help her with her bag while she laughed, "Today we have apple sodas, do you want to come and have one in the kitchen? So you rest a little."

But several mothers began to arrive, some with their bellies about to explode, others with their babies in their arms, so Shelagh declined the invitation and sat in front of their table, greeting each woman, reviewing their data, organizing everything in an efficient way, as she always did.

She had been working hard for almost an hour when she saw that her two daughters were pushing each other, while another pair of girls watched them.

"Angela! May!" she called, but her daughters seemed to be interspersed in arguing, apparently, over the ownership of a stuffed rabbit of which each one grabbed an ear, pulling regardless of the poor animal ending up without them.

She immediately stood up, looking everywhere. Sister Hilda was free so with a nod she relieved her in the reception. Shelagh walked over to the girls.

"Daughters, what is happening here? Why are they fighting?" she squatted down, looking at them sternly, but the girls were only concentrating on each other.

"It's mine," May said, tugging at the toy with both hands.

"It's mine!" Angela exclaimed, louder.

"This rabbit doesn't belong to either of you, it's from this place and it's here for all the children to play. So let it go," gently, Shelagh tugged on one of the rabbit's feet. With reluctance, the girls released it. She put the toy down, along with other dolls.

"Now say sorry."

Both girls looked at each other, frowning.

"Come on girls, what do I always tell you?"

May looked at her, then lowered her head.

"That your sister is the best friend you can have," she whispered.

"So…?"

"We should never fight," Angela completed, with the same stance as her sister.

"Very good. Now say sorry."

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

Shelagh smiled at them, then kissed each of them on the forehead.

"Now play with the other children, I don't want to see any more fights."

Shelagh stood up, and walked over to her table. Sister Hilda smiled at her.

"Sometimes I admire your patience," said the nun, winking at her.

"Sorry," she answered, full of guilt.

"Oh, don't worry, I was free. Stay calm, I'll see that they don't fight again over the rabbit or something else."

Shelagh smiled gratefully, sitting down and sorting her papers.

"Good afternoon."

She looked up. In front of her, there was a small woman, with blond hair, tied in a bun. She had a green folder in one hand, and her blue eyes looked nervously around the room.

"Good afternoon," Shelagh smiled at her, "Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm looking for Shelagh Smith."

She looked at her without blinking. It had been years, many years that her name and Smith did not go together.

"Or maybe they know her here as Shelagh Mannion," the woman said. She was clenching the green folder so hard her knuckles were white.

"It's...it's me," Shelagh said swallowing hard, suddenly uncomfortable, and wanting to flee, deducing that something bad was happening but not knowing exactly what.

The woman swallowed too, suddenly her eyes seemed to fill with tears.

"Who are you?" Shelagh asked, although she was not sure if she had managed to ask the question, because the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat, and the only thing she could see was that woman who was looking at her, with a look that she already knew and which, thank God, she had pulled from her memory a long time ago.

"I'm Anna Smith," she barely heard, a small whisper amid the general hubbub.

Both women stared at each other, knowing exactly who the other was.