They're closing us down

The next morning, Patrick arrived at surgery later than usual. He walked past the first patients already waiting for him. He noticed Stella coming up behind him and closed his office door once they were inside.

"How are you this morning?" Stella asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

"I am very good, thank you," Patrick said. "I had a very good night's sleep. Thanks to you," he added in a lowered voice.

Stella smiled. "I am so glad. I was worried about you. I have never seen you in such a troubled state."

"I am sorry, I didn't want to frighten you and I wasn't my usual self, "Patrick said. "But I am so glad you were there. I would not have been able to sleep had it not been for you."

"I am sorry, but you have seen the patients waiting outside," Stella said. "I think we better begin."

"You are right, dear," Patrick sighed. "Please, can you see that I have half an hour before my afternoon rounds? I need to write a report for the coroner about yesterday's accident."

"Of course. Anything else?" Stella asked.

"Not now. But if you fancy, I would very much like to spend our lunch break together." Stella nodded. "Yes, doctor."

She left his office and Patrick watched her disappear, smiling at the thought of getting to spend his break with her.

The next weeks passed without any major incidents. Patrick and Stella had developed a way of understanding each other without talking much. They would enjoy seeing each other in between patients, Stella placing files on his desk, a fresh cup of tea or the morning post. Every time, one of them would initiate even the smallest touch.

They often spent their lunch break together, apart from the rare occasions Shelagh was at the surgery, sometimes in her capacity as nurse, sometimes on her days off when she dropped in while she was running errands. But this happened only very rarely.

One morning in mid-May, Patrick had hardly entered his office, when he received a phone call from the District Board of Health. Once he was done, he slammed down the receiver with so much force that Stella thought he had broken it.

"They are closing us down. Stella, can you believe? They are closing us down?" Patrick shouted while walking out of his office into the reception area. The district health officer had informed him of a major order the Ministry of Health had passed earlier the same week.

"What? No, Patrick, this can't be true. Did they tell you just now?" Stella asked, alarmed. She jumped up from her chair and quickly walked into Patrick's direction. She reached and gently touched his cheek, which was pale of anger. Then, equally quick, she squeezed his hand and retreated hers again. Sister Winifred had already arrived to see to the maternity home and they did not want to give her the wrong impression.

"Can you come through to my office at once?" Patrick asked, almost begging, his voice shaking. Stella nodded and followed him. In his office, Patrick quietly closed the door and drew Stella into a tight embrace. He rested his head on hers for a while and took in a few deep breaths.

Then he retreated again, violently tugged at the knot of his tie to loosen it until he thankfully accepted Stella's calm fingers stilling his, helping with the aspired task. Next, he took hold of her hands and entangled their fingers. "Two years ago they said they would reassess their decision to keep us open but this is taking me completely by surprise. We are almost fully booked every day. Rates of home births are declining but so far we have not seen any decline of mothers. This has been my life for the past fifteen years and more, and they are just closing it down in a matter of minutes?"

"Patrick, I am so sorry," Stella said, squeezing his hands.

Patrick let go of Stella's hands and ran his own through his hair. He walked a few steps into the room, huffed, shook his head and returned. He covered his face with his palms and let out an angry sound.

"I was just on the phone with David Scarborough, the Officer of Health. We have been working together in one or another capacity since the start of the National Health so he said he wanted to prepare me for the official letter that is going to arrive within the next days."

"Did he say anything about what we could do?" Stella said. "You managed once to keep the Maternity Home open, you can do it again, I am sure? Whatever it takes, I am going to help with it."

Patrick looked at her and let out a bitter laugh. "This time it is final. They have already passed an order, and there is nothing to be done. All homes with fewer than 20 beds are to be closed within the next two months. We can take on already assigned cases but are no longer permitted to take on new mothers. We have to refer them to hospitals with immediate effect."

"Don't you think you can at least expect an explanation during a meeting in person? I have worked on the statistics with you, your home is one of the best of its kind in all of London. I don't think you should give up so easily,-"

"Stella, please. Just leave it for now," Patrick shouted angrily, immediately shocked at his outburst. "Look, I am sorry, I should not have," he said but was interrupted by Stella smiling warmly at him. "No, Patrick, I am sorry. You do not deserve any of this," she said, opened her arms and Patrick thankfully leaned into her embrace. The two stood still for a long moment, listening to each other's breathing, feeling each other's heart beat. This is how it is supposed to be, Patrick thought, just before they heard a loud bang outside and abruptly ended their hug, both taking a large step backwards.

Stella ungently bumped against the office door, she had forgotten how close she was standing to it. "Stella, did you hurt your head?" Patrick asked concerned, approaching her again.

Stella smiled and shook her head. "Oh no, thank you, I am fine, just a little clumsy today, it seems."

She smoothed her hair with both hands and hurried outside to check on the noise. Through the open door and the corridor Patrick heard Stella's and Sister Winifred's muffled voices. Most likely the eager nun must have dropped something while being in a hurry to return to a labouring mother.

He took another breath. Stella would deal with Sister Winifred, he thought with relief. Right now, he did not feel able to deal with the young nun. Not with anyone, if he was honest. But he had to. He had been through a war, mental illness and his first wife's death. He would manage, he knew.

Patrick leaned his back against the wall and covered his mouth with his hands while huffing again. He felt lost. He wasn't totally unprepared, they had made it clear that this was to be expected eventually. So the day was here now. He was unprepared. How could he be prepared to let go what he had built in numerous hours and weeks and years? Where he had put in so much of his energy and lifetime and passion?

Shelagh would be devastated, too. The Maternity Home had meant as much to her as it had to him. They had tirelessly worked to turn it into one of London's best ones and now it all should end just like this? With a phone call and a letter. Patrick rubbed his eyes with his hands. He would need to pull himself together now, morning surgery was about to begin.

Just when he began to move towards his desk, he noticed Stella enter the office again. She was carrying a steaming cup of tea and warmly smiled at him.

"I brought you a little something," she said. "I know you never have biscuits in the morning, but I figured you might want some now to raise your spirits a little. They are the chocolate ones, your favourites. I kept an extra box for a day like this."

Patrick smiled wearily. "Stella, what would I do without you," he murmured while leaning in to her and fleetingly kissing her cheek. Stella buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered: "Should we close for the morning? It looks as if we are not going to be that busy. I could send those who are already waiting outside home or to a locum if you want me to?"

"You are too kind," Patrick murmured. "But I have to deal with it later, now, I need to see to my patients. I can't let the bad news get into my way right now. My patients deserve me doing my best, no matter what some politicians have decided."

Stella let out an audible breath and took a step back. "Alright then, doctor. Time to get to work now." Then she reached out for his tie and adjusted it again. "Good thing you have me to check on you, you cannot see a patient like this," she scolded him playfully while fiddling with the piece of clothing. When she was done, Stella walked towards the door where she turned around and flashed him one last encouraging smile.

Patrick returned the smile and quickly put on his white coat which he had thrown on his desk after entering his office earlier this morning. Stella always managed to turn his mood for the better. Even on a day like this when the news could hardly been worse to begin the day with.

A few hours later, surgery had ended and Stella had finished her tasks for the morning. She was just about to lock the door for lunch break when Shelagh entered. "Mrs Turner?" she exclaimed. "What a surprise, I wasn't aware you were due in today. Your husband is in his office, please go through."

Shelagh smiled at Stella. "Didn't he tell you he wanted me to come over? He called Nonnatus House and asked me to come during lunch break."

"No, he said nothing," Stella replied. "But he has had quite a morning. He is going to tell you, just go on."

Shelagh raised her eyebrows and quickly walked towards her husband's office.

Patrick looked up from his writing when she entered and his face lit up. "Shelagh, I am so glad you were able to come." He got up from his chair and approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her cheek.

"Mrs Gillespie said you were having an unpleasant morning?" Shelagh asked concerned.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I did indeed. Please, sit down before I tell you." He reached for her coat and placed it on the exam table before sitting down next to Shelagh on the second visitor's chair.

"They are going to close us down," he said, looking into his wife's eyes.

"What? No, this is not possible. When did you learn about it?" Shelagh exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hands.

"First thing this morning. David called ahead of the official letter which is going to be posted within the next days. We are no longer permitted to take on new mothers with immediate effect."

"No, Patrick, this must be a mistake, -"

"Shelagh," Patrick interrupted his wife, "Shelagh, no. It was a political decision to close all smaller homes and we're on the list this time." Patrick propped up his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He let out a huff and his shoulders slumped.

Shelagh leant forward and placed her right hand on her husband's left forearm. "Alright, Patrick. I am going to leave it now, but I think we should discuss this again tonight. Something must be done. I am certain Sister Julienne will also want to help us."

Patrick shook his head but remained silent. He knew better than to argue with his wife once she had made up her mind. And he knew better than to fight a battle when the war was already lost.

„As good as Susan's cooking is, I prefer your steak and kidney pie over hers," Patrick sighed when Shelagh finally was done with her duties for the day and sat down next to him on the settee. She yawned and let her upper body fall against his. Patrick caught her and drew her into an embrace of his right arm.

"When am I supposed to do the cooking?" Shelagh asked, clearly irritated. "I have enough on my plate as it is. I think you are perfectly fine with Susan's cooking on weekdays."

Patrick frowned. He had managed to anger his wife again, without intending to. He had only wanted to let her know he fancied her cooking over Susan's but as so many times during the past months, she felt attacked immediately.

"Shelagh, I didn't imply anything with what I just said. I only want you to know that I will always prefer your cooking to anyone else's. But I do not expect you to cook when you have so many other things to do."

Shelagh yawned again and drew her legs close to her body. "I am sorry," she murmured. "I am just so tired again."

"I know," Patrick whispered and placed a kiss into her hair.

"Can we talk about the Maternity Home again?" Shelagh asked tentatively.

"Not when you are tired and when there isn't really anything we can do," Patrick said, in a resigned voice.

"This is not the Patrick Turner I know," Shelagh said, her voice firm. She sat up again and looked at her husband. "Even if they have decided it on a higher level, there certainly must be some loopholes. What if you are the only home in an area where there is a very high demand? We do have all the statistics, don't we?"

Patrick took in a deep breath. Shelagh was right, they should look into every possibility there was. But he, too, was tired. Tired of fighting a fight that he would eventually lose.

"But even if we find a loophole, time is working against us," he said meekly. "Even if we are going to be at 80, 90 per cent capacity right now, you know as well as I do that rates are on the decline. More and more mothers enquire about a hospital birth and decide to go there. And it is what the National Heath and politicians want, too. So even if we manage to remain open for another year or two, they will eventually close us in the end.

"But Patrick, think about how many mothers one or two more years will mean. It will be more than two hundred or even more," Shelagh countered.

Patrick shook his head in resignation. It was all just too much at the moment. "I am sorry, I am tired," he murmured and got up from the settee. "I am going to bed." He felt Shelagh's eyes on his back all the way until he had reached the top of the stairs. Tonight, he was the one who needed some space and time alone.