„What can I get you, Timothy?" Trixie chirped.

„Umm, is this a chocolate cake?" the boy asked, shyly pointing to a large cake on the cake buffet Trixie was tasked to serve at.

Trixie smiled. "Yes, it is. And guess what, I am going to cut you an extra large slice." Timothy beamed and thankfully accepted the generously filled plate. "I assume you are going to run the three-legged race, and you need to gather all the strength you can get," Trixie laughed, watching Timothy stuffing his mouth with cake.

She was quite fond of the little boy, for he reminded her of his mother who had been a sort of motherly friend to Trixie when she first came to Poplar. As if he had read her mind, Timothy, his plate half emptied, said: "It tastes like the cake my Mummy used to bake."

His face became sad, and Trixie hurried to reply: "Yes, I know. She gave me the recipe once and it was me who made this particular cake. And guess what? The dress I am wearing, I was given it by your Mummy, too."

Timothy watched her, not sure what to reply. "It looks nice on you," he finally said. Trixie smiled.

"You were with her a lot before she…?" the boy's voice died before he could finish his sentence.

Trixie smiled again. "Yes, I was. And she never stopped short of telling me how much she loved you." She looked at the little boy, his eyes getting watery. "Your mum was to me like Fred is to you, you know. Like Fred is doing with you at Cubs. When I first arrived here in Poplar I still had to learn quite a lot and your Mummy often helped me when I had no one else to go to. It was not that long ago. Only three years… oh my," she panted.

"Good morning, Nurse – ?"

"Franklin. Beatrix Franklin. And you are Mrs. -?"

"I am Mrs Patrick Turner. I am bringing a few prescription medicines for you to take on your rounds."

"Oh, thank you, I'll take them with me, we are about to begin the day," Trixie said eagerly, reaching for the paper bag the friendly-looking woman who had rang the door bell just a minute ago was holding in her hand. Just then she heard a stern voice from behind: "Nurse Franklin, would you kindly ask Mrs Turner inside? We aren't treating people like that," Sister Evangelina came up behind her and indicated the other woman to enter Nonnatus House.

"This is Mrs Turner, the doctor's wife. We are always asking her in and offer her a cup of tea," Sister Evangelina explained in her usual impatient tone. Trixie felt her cheeks getting warm and smiled at Mrs Turner. "I have to apologise, Mrs Turner, "she said shyly, and stepped back so their guest could enter.

Mrs Turner shook her head, causing her brown curls to swing nicely, and said: "Oh please, never mind. I was new here once, too, I know how difficult the first days can be." Then she looked at Sister Evangelina and continued: "Good morning, Sister. Isn't it always like this: The first days and weeks aren't the easiest, but once you have mastered them with the help of the Sisters, you will be absolutely fine." She looked back at Trixie and gave her an encouraging smile.

Trixie nodded and watched Mrs Turner and Sister Evangelina make their way towards the kitchen.

She had arrived at Nonnatus House only a few days ago, and even though she loved working as a nurse and midwife, she still had to get the hang of life within a convent, and of working under Sister Evangelina's close watch in particular.

She had already met Doctor Turner, but hadn't been aware that his wife was apparently a friend of Nonnatus House (and how could she?). According to the older woman's exchange with Sister Evangelina, Mrs. Turner, too, seemed to have worked here. Perhaps this was how she had met her husband. It was quite common for nurses to marry doctors. Not just a few of Trixie's fellow nurses in training had fantasised about how they would be doctors' wives in a few years. Trixie could see herself as one too, if she was honest, but her main interest at the moment was solely to gain experience in midwifery and improve her skills to become a more than excellent nurse.

September 1956

I met the new nurse today, a very pretty and polite young woman. She seems quite careful with her appearance, judging by her hair and make-up, but Sister Evangelina told me that she is quite skilled, and qualified as one of the best of her class.

Patrick told me earlier that they already worked together during a complicated delivery and he, too, thinks that Sister Julienne has picked a very good nurse, even though she may probably need a while to find her footing within Poplar. She comes from a different part of town, but she appears to have the strength to get herself through the first weeks and months.

She is by far the youngest inhabitant of Nonnatus House, a few years younger than Sister Bernadette, and I was thinking of offering her a bit of advice once she has settled down. Even though I am quite a few years older than her, she might want to know about shops like that of Mrs Gee or other places to go, places the Sisters wouldn't necessarily know or think of.

I have been thinking of taking up teaching again. I talked to Patrick last night and he said he would support any decision I made regarding my professional life. I thought I might just ask around at the schools in the district. I would even be happy to help out somewhere for just a few hours a week. I haven't been teaching since before the war, which is more than fifteen years.

Fifteen years, what a long period of time. I can't get my head around this. But now that Timothy is getting older and starting to prefer his friends and Cubs to my company, I feel that I need to find something else to occupy my mind.

By now, we both have given up hope of ever having another child, so I might as well try to get back a foot into my former profession.

Spring 1957

"Nurse Franklin, good to see you," Marianne said. It was four weeks now since she had fallen ill with an inexplicable abdominal pain. Patrick had already referred her to the hospital twice with suspected appendicitis, but nothing had confirmed the diagnosis. She had been very weak for the past ten days, so Patrick had asked the Sisters to add Marianne to their rota so that they could check in on her on a daily basis as she was hardly able to get out of bed.

"I hope you had a good Easter," Marianne said while Trixie checked blood pressure and temperature. Marianne lay on the settee in the Turner's living room, covered by a warm blanket. Trixie had noticed immediately that the blanket was far too warm for a sunny spring day. She had noticed, too, Mrs Turner's very pale face, and the dark shadows beneath the older woman's eyes that were normally full of joy and sparkle.

"Well thank you. I volunteered to work, though. Our new nurse, Nurse Miller who just started was called home. Her brother was very ill, so I offered to take her shifts."

"This is very kind of you," Marianne said. "You know, when you first arrived, I never expected you to adjust to the conditions here so quickly."

"Really?" Trixie said surprised.

"Please don't take it as an offense," Marianne said, smiling a tired and apologetic smile.

"Oh no, not at all. I am aware that in the eyes of the local people I seem to be coming from another planet at times," Trixie laughed. "So how are you today, Mrs Turner?" she continued, her voice earnest now.

Marianne contemplated her answer for a while, closing her eyes for a few seconds. "You know, I am tempted to say I am alright. But between you and me, can I be honest and tell you that I am beginning to feel that whatever it is that ails me is not going to change anymore?"

"Oh, don't say this, Mrs Turner, please," Trixie exclaimed. "Medicine can do so much, and I am certain between Dr Turner and the doctors at the London, they are going to eventually find out what causes your pain."

Marianne slowly shook her head. "I know it may sound strange, but I have a very distinct feeling that I am not going to be healed. I can't base it on a fact, it's just… last night, I had a dream. A dream I had a few nights ago, too. I saw a funeral. My funeral. Tim and Patrick were standing at my grave, crying." She paused again, and swallowed hard before she continued. "I am not going to tell Patrick, but I have to get this off my chest. I believe you can keep a secret?"

Trixie nodded very slowly.

"I am not superstitious, I believe in God and I know this all sounds very strange. But after having had these dreams, I just know. I think God is telling me to prepare myself. To say good bye. I was considering telling Sister Evangelina but she would not have any of it. I feel you are the person to confide in." Marianne let her head which she had lifted while she had been speaking fall back onto the cushion, again closing her eyes for a few seconds, as if it had cost her an enormous amount of energy to say what she just had told Trixie.

Trixie bit her lips while she awkwardly kneaded the tube of the blood pressure meter. She was at a loss at what to reply. She certainly didn't want to argue with Mrs Turner. She had always admired the woman's strength and courage. Sister Evangelina had once told her how Mrs Turner had first arrived here as an assistant nurse and left quite an impression on everyone. Trixie also knew that it had been Marianne Turner that had convinced her husband to become the GP for this area, and judging by how highly most people spoke of their doctor, she had been doing God's work.

"I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," Marianne said, extending her hand towards Trixie as if she wanted to appease the young nurse. "But it feels good to have said it out loud for once."

"No, I am sorry for leaving you with the impression that I wouldn't take you seriously," Trixie said. Trixie took Mrs Turner's hand into hers, placed the blood pressure meter which she was still holding in her hands, onto the coffee table, and knelt down next to her patient's head.

"You know, I have been thinking about you for quite some time, " Marianne suddenly said. "Would you go to my bedroom? There is a dress on my bed, could you get it for me, please?"

Trixie nodded, got up again and slowly walked towards the Turners' bedroom. She felt her cheeks blush when she entered, thinking this was where Dr Turner spent his nights. She spotted a light blue silk dress on one side of the bed, quickly lifted it and turned around.

"Ah, yes, this one," Marianne smiled when Trixie returned to the living room. "For quite some time I wanted to give it to you."

Trixie felt her cheeks get even warmer. "Oh, not, I couldn't possibly – "s he began but was interrupted by Marianne.

"Oh yes, you can," she smiled. "I was given it as a present myself. My friend Catherine is a dressmaker and made it for me. But I was never entirely happy with the colour. And I believe it would suit you so much better."

"Please, Mrs Turner, I cannot accept this, it is too precious a gift," Trixie said.

Marianne smiled at her. "As I said, I never wear it anymore. And I am afraid that I won't have much time left anyway," she added. "Please do me the favour and keep the dress alive for me."

Trixie swallowed. Was this meant to be a good-bye present? Ever since she had arrived at Nonnatus House not yet a year ago, she had held Mrs Turner in high regard. Mrs Turner was probably around 20 years her senior but she looked a lot younger. Even next to her husband, Mrs Turner looked younger, though they probably were about the same age, Trixie thought.

When she had first arrived at Poplar, Trixie had been very motivated to be working at Nonnatus House. But at the same time, she had found it a bit intimidating to work along the very capable nuns, especially Sister Evangelina and Sister Bernadette, who were constantly challenging the nurses to do their best and keep on improving their skills.

Mrs Turner had casually offered help, had introduced Trixie to a few people, had informed her when there was a fair or a group meeting which might be of interest for younger women and where she might meet friends outside of work.

13 September 1957

We have our diagnosis. It is as I suspected all along. It is cancer of the ovaries. It has already spread too much, to the uterus and beyond, so the doctors won't be able to heal it.

I am just back from the hospital. I have been feeling so much better for the past weeks and I think Patrick was hoping I was finally back to my old self again. Only ten days ago, when we were out buying Tim's new uniform, I collapsed in front of the store and was taken to hospital again. They had a new doctor who did a few new tests and confirmed his suspicion. And mine, really. I have had this feeling all along, that my body is going to betray me, and that I am going to die soon.

Now that we have the diagnosis, Patrick is devastated. He was crying last night, when we were in bed. I have never seen him cry, and it takes all the strength I can muster to not cry along with him. But I have to be strong. We haven't yet told Tim. We wanted him to get settled with the new school year first.

The doctors were not able to tell how much time I have left. They said two months to one year. So we do have to prepare Tim eventually. It was as if my body has allowed me to enjoy one last summer, most of the summer holidays I felt like back to my old self. I was looking forward to begin teaching again in the new school year and I do feel very awful for letting the primary school down, they had rather high hopes in my appointment.

But now, I am getting weaker every day. I know that very soon, I will not be able to keep on writing. Already, it is getting difficult to carry out all tasks around the house and I need to discuss with Patrick about getting a housekeeper. Once I am gone, they will need one, and I rather see to myself to find someone suitable for my family.

I requested Nurse Franklin and Sister Evangelina to see me through all of this. Sister Evangelina will pray with me and Nurse Franklin will bring some joy to my last days. I think it has helped that I have been in her place once. I have seen so many young soldiers die, I am not afraid. The only worry I have is for Tim and Patrick. How will they be able to carry on? With Patrick being away most of the time, I worry about Tim. Granny Parker said she is going to take care of him as good as she can, but in the end, the boy needs a mother. I will ask Patrick to see to getting married again. He will say no, but for Tim's sake, I want him to consider it soon.

I feel I am getting tired. I wonder how long I have. I would like to spend one last Christmas with Tim and Patrick, though. And see Tim turn 11 perhaps. And really also enjoy another spring. We shall see.