Stella could watch the children

"Good Morning Patrick, how was your weekend?" Stella chimed while walking into Patrick's office with the first cup of tea in her hands. "Sorry, I got in a bit late, Caroline dropped a glass of milk this morning and we had to clean the kitchen real quick."

Patrick smiled at the sight of his receptionist and friend and got up from his chair to take the tea cup from Stella. He placed it on his desk and carefully embraced her. Stella returned the embrace, chuckling.

"I am sorry," her voice muffled because her face was half buried between Patrick's chest and his left upper arm. "Feels as if it has not been an easy weekend."

She took a step back and placed her palms on Patrick's chest. "Am I right?" she asked and Patrick nodded. He covered her hands with his and sighed. "This time it was Teddy having a fever. Since February he and Angela have taken turns in being ill, and even though I am a doctor, I soon can't handle it anymore. Ever since our missed anniversary dinner, that was more than five weeks ago, one of them has been ill with fever, cough, chicken pox, another fever, you name it.

"Oh no, I am so sorry," Stella said. "It can be so very tiring when they are ill. And yes, once one is done, the next one will surely catch something else. I definitely do not miss that part of having little children," she added, pulling out her right hand from under Patrick's and affectionately brushed his cheek.

"Yes, Teddy ill, Angela cranky because she did not have Shelagh's attention, Shelagh did not manage anything around the house so I had to jump in and even do the cooking, you know how much I like it." He paused, frowning at a grinning Stella. "And then we also managed to offend Timothy because we need him to watch the children on Thursday. Shelagh needs to go into night shift while I still have evening surgery and Susan has another appointment. So he is going to miss orchestra practice."

"I could watch them," Stella said. "I am alone for the evening since Caroline is at orchestra practice, too. I like a bit of entertainment."

"Oh no, Stella, I cannot ask this of you," Patrick said quickly. "You are already doing so much more than you need to, you can't come in at night and watch my children."

"Patrick, "Stella said, "I told you that I love watching little children every now and then and since it will be at least another year until I am going to be a grandmother, please let me offer."

Patrick smiled and slid his hands to hold her by her shoulders. "Thank you, I could not be more relieved. Timothy was very upset, he will be so grateful."

"Oh no, I don't want anyone to feel grateful, I only see that you all are under a lot of pressure and I have sufficient time on me to help out. I was in your situation once, too."

"Alright then, I think we have to open now, can you please call the first patient for the day?" Patrick then said, took his white coat which Stella had placed on his office chair earlier and looked back at Stella. "I love you, Stella, I do."

Stella looked at him with a puzzled expression. After a short pause she said: "I am going to call in your first patient in just a second, Dr Turner," and abruptly left the office.

Patrick remained standing even after she had vanished into the corridor. He had not intended to say what he had just said, it had just slipped out. What was going on, he wondered. He was supposed to love his wife. But for the past five months his wife seemed to be further and further away. He hardly saw her awake or alone. They rarely talked about anything not related to the children or their work. Unlike Stella who was always there when he needed her. She would listen to him, tell him off if he needed it to and offer her support anytime. But Stella was not his wife.

Patrick closed his eyes and tried to focus on the here and now when a cheerful voice shook him out of his thoughts: "Good morning, Dr Turner, long time no see."

"Well, good morning Mr Godfrey, I should think it is a good think that we haven't seen each other in how many months exactly?" Patrick greeted his patient, an elderly man with a chronic lung condition, and momentarily forgot about his emotive confusion.

"Have you spoken to your wife?" Stella asked the next day while handing him his coat in order to see him off for clinic.

"Spoken to Shelagh, why?" Patrick asked, slightly confused.

"About me watching the children on Thursday. I assume you would rather want to discuss it with her beforehand," Stella said.

"Oh yes, of course," Patrick chuckled. "Yes, we discussed it and she seemed hesitant at first but seeing that we have no other option, she agreed. There are not many people at the moment whom Shelagh trusts with their bedtime and apparently she has good faith in you," he added, taking a few steps into Stella's direction.

When he leaned in to her she took a step back and held out his coat. "Not this time, you are running late and you need to hurry. I don't want to be the one holding you back from clinic. I remember how as a young mother I used to feel intimidated by the nuns, most of all Sister Evangelina, may she rest in peace. I still remember very vividly how she would occasionally tell you off, back when I attended clinic with Caroline."

"You were at clinic with Caroline?" Patrick asked in surprise. "Why did you never tell me? So I was Caroline's doctor?"

Stella nodded and smiled. "Yes, you were. But not for long, just a few months before we moved. It was closer to see our present GP then and as Caroline had been doing so well, I decided I wouldn't need to go all the way to the Parish Hall every time. Now," she held out his coat "get dressed, you are very late by now."

Patrick slipped into his coat, quickly turned around and lightly brushed Stella's cheek while hurrying past her. "You are a most lovely woman, dear," he said and left his office.

Thursday was a hectic day. Patrick was on the move all day long. Since spring was coming fast now, the flu season finally was on retreat, but with people spending more time outdoors, accidents and injuries were on the rise. When he came back from his afternoon rounds, he found a note from Stella telling him she would be seeing him at night, when he returned home and she would be watching their children. Stella had put the note on his desk, on top of the pile of patient files he would need for appointments today.

Then, just when he had put on his white coat, the phone rang. Another accident had happened, a roadside accident involving a child, just around the corner. Patrick felt adrenaline shoot through his veins, shucked off his white coat, dropping it on the floor, and grabbing his case. He remembered to instruct Nurse Franklin who was on duty at the maternity home to close the surgery for the afternoon.

Three hours later, Patrick entered his silent house. The children must already be asleep, he thought, noticing it was just past eight. Patrick quietly placed his bag under the coat rack and pulled off his shoes. He let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He had worked bending down for almost an hour, trying to save a young boy, but had failed. He was hurting inside and outside.

He slowly limped into the kitchen where he considered getting himself a drink, this being the only action he would manage right now. He hoped Shelagh would be coming down soon, he needed someone to reassure him, to hold him and help him forget the image of the little boy, covered in blood, dying without his mother present.

Just when he remembered Shelagh was not home, he heard quiet footsteps on the stairs. When he looked up, he watched Stella coming down, her expression changing from anticipation to shock.

"Patrick, whatever happened?" she asked, her voice almost shrill.

"I was called to an accident. A young boy, nine, ten years at most, was hit by a beam that fell of a scaffold at a construction site."

Stella didn't need to hear anymore, she knew what must have happened. "Oh no, I am so sorry, Patrick. Come here," she said, approached him with her arms open and hugged him tightly. His breathing was ragged, his heart raced. Stella gently stroked his back with her right hand and hummed as if she was soothing a little child.

"It is part of my everyday job," Patrick murmured into the crook of her neck, "but a dying child, one that is crying for his mother who was not able to make it in time, is among the worst that can happen."

"I am so sorry," Stella repeated, still stroking Patrick's back.

"Now, I think you should get rid of your clothes. Once Timothy comes back he needn't to see you all bloody and dirty, don't you think?" Stella said.

"Oh Stella, you are taking such good care of me," Patrick said with a sad voice. "You are watching my children, you are seeing to my appearance, how can I ever pay you back?" He leaned in to her quite heavily, his body limp, all energy having waned.

"Shhh," Stella said. "I won't hear anything of it. Let's get you upstairs first. Once we have gotten you cleaned up and dressed into a fresh shirt, things will begin to look differently again." She carefully stepped back and took Patrick's right hand into her left. "Come on, dear, let me take care of you."

They slowly walked upstairs and into the bathroom where Stella began to undress Patrick as if it was the most natural thing to do. He stood very still, eyes weary, his body limp and aching. Stella drew him a bath and carefully steadied him while he stepped into the bathtub. She took a flannel from the small shelf next to the tub and a soap bar. Then she knelt down besides the tub and began to carefully clean Patrick's face, neck, arms and his chest.

Neither of them spoke. Patrick kept his eyes closed all the time, he seemed asleep, he only twitched occasionally when Stella hid a ticklish spot or rubbed a little too tightly in a sensitive area. Stella worked carefully, her touch firm but very gentle, transmitting the great amount of affection she held for the man in front of her. When she was done washing Patrick's face, neck chest, she carefully pushed his shoulders away from the rim of the tub. Next, she rose to her feet, bent forward and began softly wash his back. Then she put away the flannel and started to knead the tight muscles of Patrick's shoulders. "You are very tight. I should do this more often," she whispered while methodically working his sore muscles.

A moan escaped his mouth, causing Stella to smile. She felt him relax under her touch and for a moment thought he might fall asleep. She was surprised, though, when he suddenly rose a little from his position and stilled her hands with his. Patrick turned his head and looked at her. Stella dropped on her knees so she was at eye-level with Patrick.

"Thank you." Patrick murmured. "This was exactly what I needed." He leant forward and placed a quick kiss on Stella's mouth. Stella smiled into his kiss and stroked his wet hair with one hand. She pressed her mouth on his before getting up again. "I am sorry, but my knees won't allow this position any longer," she laughed.

Patrick extended his left hand and Stella took it into her right, sitting down on the rim of the tub besides Patrick. "Oh yes, ageing comes with quite a bit of discomfort," he said. Stella smiled at him and gently stroked the nape of his neck.

"I used to do this a lot to my husband. We never were," she smiled shyly before she continued, "well we never acted very intimately with each other, but cleaning him while he was in the tub was what we would do regularly. Especially after the war. We would never talk, he would just sit in the tub and let me wash him," Stella's voice trailed off.

Patrick breathed in heavily and reached for her hand still at his nape. He drew it to his mouth and kissed it carefully before releasing it.

"No one has ever done this to me. And it felt more than wonderful, Stella." He looked at her for a while, goose bumps forming on his forearms. He was not able to tell whether it came from his wet skin getting cold or the excitement of being naked while being touched by Stella's soft hands.

"Would you hand me a towel?" he asked and Stella got up to fetch one. Patrick stood up and Stella wrapped him into the towel, carefully rubbing his upper arms. Patrick stepped out of the bath, quickly dried his arms and slung the towel around his chest. Next he drew Stella into a tight hug, letting out a deep sigh. "This was wonderful, love, I am feeling so much better. Just what I needed."

They remained in their embrace for a long while until Stella eventually said. "Now, you better get dressed and I should go downstairs. I assume Timothy will be back any time and I really need to go home to see Caroline."

Patrick nodded. "Of course. Will you wait for me until I am dressed? I am going to hurry."

Stella smiled. "Yes, of course. Now go. I am going to prepare you some tea."

A few minutes later, Patrick came down the stairs, just when Stella poured hot water into the Turners' tea pot. Patrick approached her but when he wanted to put his arms around her, they heard the front door. Patrick quickly sat down on a kitchen chair and Stella put down the tea pot in front of him.

"I think I am done for the day then, doctor," she said, while Patrick was giving her right hand a quick squeeze. He got up again and said: "Yes, thank you very much, Mrs Gillespie. We could not have managed without you."

He followed her into the hallway and retrieved her coat from the coat rack where Timothy had just placed his cardigan. "Good evening, Mrs Gillespie", the boy said politely and nodded at his father before entering the kitchen.

"Thank you, Stella. You were my rescue tonight," Patrick whispered while opening the door for Stella. She smiled warmly at him and whispered: "Anything for you Patrick." Then, with a louder voice, she said: "Good night, Doctor Turner." Patrick smiled and nodded at her, returning the good night. Then he stilled her with his left hand. "Now that Timothy is home, I should drive you." Stella shook her head. "No, please, you go on talk to your son."

Patrick shook his head, too. "No, after all you have been doing for us, this is the least I can do. Tim will be able to wait for another ten minutes."

"Patrick, it is not even a ten minute walk, please stay and take care of your children," Stella said forcefully and Patrick nodded in agreement. He watched after her until she had passed the garden door until he closed the door behind her and returned to the kitchen.

"Good evening, son. How was orchestra practice?" Timothy mumbled a few unintelligible words, chewing on a slice of toast he had buttered generously, crumbs and a smear of butter still visible on the worktop. Patrick chose to not mention the mess for the moment, aware of the danger to stir a tired and hungry boy's moods.

"Well, seems to have been good," Patrick murmured, while walking towards the living room. He would watch a bit of TV before going to sleep in an empty bed, with Shelagh being out. Not that it made much of a difference whether she was at work or at home, he thought bitterly.