Fifth anniversary

"Now here comes my beautiful wife," Patrick beamed when Shelagh finally came walking down the stairs into their kitchen. He jumped up from his chair at the dining table where he had been sitting and waiting for her.

Shelagh beamed back at him and, when they met at the foot of the stairs, placed her hands on her husband's shoulders. "You look rather handsome, too, Dr Turner. So, our little girl is asleep now. I hope she won't have too hard a night, the poor wee thing."

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "I cancelled our reservation. I am so sorry, I have been looking forward all week to taking you out tonight."

Shelagh cocked her head. "So was I, Patrick. But this is it with the children, one always has something going on."

Angela had not been her usual self all week. She had been crying every day when Shelagh had left her nursery, had not slept well at night and just this afternoon when she had picked her up at day-care, the girl's teacher had told Shelagh that Angela had been hitting and pinching other children for the past days.

Shelagh was very concerned and had talked with Patrick while they had dressed up for dinner. Susan had offered to watch the children beginning late afternoon so the Turners would be able to get ready for their night out in time.

Unfortunately, while Shelagh and Patrick had discussed Angela, the little girl had developed a sudden high fever and Susan had not been able to calm her. Shelagh had then had to tend to her daughter for over an hour and in between she and Patrick decided they better cancel their plans and stay in.

Now, back in their kitchen, husband and wife joined each other in a long embrace. "I think it is a bit much on all of us," Shelagh eventually murmured into her husband's chest.

"Please don't torture yourself, dear," Patrick said gently, his cheek resting on his wife's head.

"I think her odd behaviour all week might be explained by a bug she has caught. Poor wee girl, she must have been ill all week."

Patrick hummed in agreement, though he felt tempted to say something more. He was not so certain that a looming infection was the cause of Angela being out of sorts. But he didn't want to spoil the evening, not when they were here, just the two of them, dressed for a night at an upscale restaurant.

Instead he asked: "Since we have already donned our Sunday best, how about we enjoy a bit of quiet just the two of us? Have a few sandwiches and eggs for dinner? A drink afterwards?"

Shelagh nodded and huffed, from the sound of her breath Patrick could tell she was smiling. After a short while, they loosened their embrace and quickly prepared an improvised dinner with some leftovers, sandwich toast and scrambled eggs.

Once they had finished their meal, Patrick got up and cleared the table. When Shelagh wanted to help him, he smiled and shook his head. "Go, make yourself comfortable, I'll be joining you in a minute, dear", he said, nodding into the direction of the living room.

After he was done, Patrick took two tumblers out of a cupboard and placed them on the worktop, then stretched a bit to retrieve a bottle of whisky from the top shelf of another cupboard. The one he took out was almost full. Patrick tried to remember when he last had a wee dram but couldn't. Neither of them really was much of a drinker.

Next, he walked over to his wife who had already made herself comfortable, had her legs drawn under her body and was leaning back into the backrest. When she nodded in approval, Patrick placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, sat down next to his wife and poured each one a glass. He loosened his tie, took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

Then he reached for the glasses, gave one to Shelagh and said: "To us. To five years of love and happiness. And to my beautiful wife. I think you are getting more beautiful by the day, love."

Shelagh smiled warmly, her cheeks beginning to flush. "To you, my dear husband. Thank you for being there for me whenever I need you."

They clinked their glasses and each took a sip of the golden liquid. Shelagh took in a sharp breath. "Oh, it has been years since I last had a glass of this."

Patrick smirked. "Has it really? Yes, we must be the family in Poplar where the least amount of alcohol is consumed."

He watched his wife intently while she was looking at her drink, seemingly lost in thought. Just when he wanted to speak, Shelagh looked up at him and said: "I can't believe it is five years, Patrick. It seems like yesterday that you and Tim were standing at the altar, waiting for me."

Patrick smiled and reached out for his wife's cheek. "Yes, me, too, I can't believe we have been married that long. And I don't regret a second."

Shelagh placed her drink on the coffee table and shuffled closer to her husband. Patrick, too, got rid of his drink and put his left arm around his wife's shoulders. Shelagh leaned in to his embrace, resting her head in the crook of his neck. The couple stayed like this for a long moment, until Shelagh let out a long sigh.

"What is it, love?" Patrick asked, concerned.

"When we got married, I thought we would have a family and that would be it. I never gave a single thought at returning to work. And now so much has come out different than I expected."

"And is this a bad thing?" Patrick asked.

"No, we have talked about this before. I think I need both. I couldn't not do my work as a nurse and midwife. And now that I have gone back to working with Nonnatus House, I feel that it is too much. But I do not know how to take a step or two back again, and I just can't." Shelagh paused, sat up straight again and looked into Patrick's eyes. "Do you understand how hard it is for me yet how difficult to see what is right for all of us?"

Patrick nodded. "I always knew you would return to work one day. Please never think I will not encourage you to."

Shelagh bit her lips for a while and said: "But?"

Patrick breathed in deeply before he spoke:" Shelagh, I am afraid you are ruining your health and that the whole situation is beginning to take its toll on the children, too. You taking the Valium has me concerned. I noticed you are now on three to four pills a day judging by the fact that you needed another prescription just yesterday. And now Angela hurting other children, crying at day-care, developing a fever just when we are about to leave for the night? Shelagh, I think she is missing you. I think our situation at home is beginning to have a negative impact on our children and I am concerned."

Shelagh shuffled to the left just a few inches, but enough to increase the distance between herself and her husband. "So you do want me to stop working?" she asked, her voice forceful and shaking at the same time.

Patrick shook his head in despair. "No, Shelagh, no. This is not what I want and not what I said. But we might consider whether the exact kind of work or its sheer amount is right for now. Perhaps it is possible for you to reduce your hours? I could talk to Sister Julienne if you want me to?"

Now it was Shelagh shaking her head. "No, Patrick, no. This would mean the others would have to cover for me all the time? No. Then I would have to stop completely. And now that I am back to nursing, I can't very well imagine going back being only your receptionist again."

Patrick ran his hands through his hair and rested his chin on the palm of his left hand. "But don't you at least agree that we are facing a problem here? You needing medication because you are working so much? Angela no longer being her usual self?"

Shelagh bit her lips. She blinked a few times in quick succession, trying to hold back tears but failed. She sobbed quietly and sat completely still. Patrick took her left hand into both of his and shuffled nearer to her, leaving only one inch between them.

"Love, I am sorry. Now I made you cry again. I did not mean to reproach you or make you feel guilty. I am worried. And I am afraid. I told you before that I have been through a mental breakdown myself and these things do not happen out of the blue. They build up and sometimes for a long time. I am afraid that you are taking on too much until one day you will no longer manage and I am dreading this day. Because I know that I can't manage without you."

Shelagh let her head drop on her husband's shoulder again. "Please don't let us discuss this right now. We were supposed to have our special night out and now look how we ended up," she sobbed, wiping her face with both palms.

Patrick placed a kiss on her hair. "If we keep talking like tonight we will manage, Shelagh. Even if it hurts, but please, please, Shelagh, let us keep talking, will we?"

Shelagh nodded and snuggled closer into her husband's embrace. "I am sorry that I am no longer there for you as much as I should. I know you need someone to look out for you and I can not always be there," she murmured meekly. "At least you have a good receptionist with Mrs Gillespie. She is watching out for you, too, from what I can see."

"What do you mean?" Patrick asked.

"She is taking care of you. People are telling me how punctual you are and how you always have all the right files with you. They notice that there was a time in between me and her where you were a bit, well, disorganized, apparently."

"No, I was not," Patrick mock-protested. "But yes, you are right, Stella, Mrs Gillespie, she is an extraordinary help.

"Stella?" Shelagh asked in surprise and lifted her head to face her husband. "Did I miss something here?"

Patrick hoped he was not blushing, cleared his throat and said: "Yes, we are on a first name basis, Stella and I. We figured we were working so closely and we are almost the same age, so we thought it would be easier. Only when there aren't any patients or colleagues are around." He looked into Shelagh's eyes for a while and asked: "Shelagh, are you jealous?"

Shelagh smiled embarrassedly: "No, Patrick, how could I? I know you will never give me a reason to be. I am just surprised. I was not aware you two were so familiar with each other."

Patrick smiled. "You are right, she does watch out for me. Must be her being widowed and having brought up her children all alone. She has a knack for it. And she is a genuinely caring person. I think we can call each other good friends by now."

"I am glad you have her by your side then," Shelagh said. "I sometimes do feel sorry to not be there with you.

"I am going to manage, Shelagh," Patrick said. "You focus on your work and please don't worry about me."

Shelagh took in a deep breath and reached for her glass. She raised it towards her husband and said: "To us, Patrick. Life certainly has not become any easier within the past five years. But I am certain we will pull through one way or the other."

Patrick took his glass, too, took a generous sip and placed it back on the table. Then he kissed his wife on the mouth, retreated and said: "Let us put all those heavy thoughts aside for a moment. How about a dance, would you dance with me? When was the last time I held you in my arms listening to one of our favourite songs?"

Shelagh smiled a sad smile. "It must have been more than a year ago," she sighed. "And yes, I will. But only if you let me adjust your tie again, I want you to look proper for our dance."

Patrick grinned and kissed her again. "As long as we can laugh and dance together I am completely certain we will manage."

"Yes, I couldn't be more certain, and I am glad I have been able to get to know you quite well by now," Shelagh whispered and kissed him back. "Now, will you chose the music or shall I?" she asked playfully after she had abruptly ended their kiss, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and emotion.

Just a few minutes after Patrick had put on one of his favourite Glenn Miller albums and the Turners had enjoyed the first steps of their dance, they heard crying from upstairs.

"Oh, no, Angela is awake again," Shelagh sighed. "It may take a while to settle her, Patrick. Don't wait up for me if you are tired."

Patrick furrowed his brow. He had intended for this evening to be different, completely different from how it had turned out. He looked after his wife who hurried upstairs and turned to switch on the TV. It would be another lonely evening, he figured. But at least they were still talking, he thought.