There is a light

"Shelagh, would you mind waiting for a moment?" Sister Julienne asked when the Nonnatuns had finished breakfast and got up to begin with their tasks for the day.

"No Sister, what is the matter?" Shelagh looked at her superior.

"I want to ask a favour of you. As you know we have been alarmed by the rising number of TB cases here in the region?"

"Yes, of course," Shelagh raised her eyebrows in question. "This was the main reason behind the TB programme Dr Turner and I worked on together."

Sister Julienne nodded and continued: "Dr Turner asked yesterday whether we could support him in getting the Regional Health Officer's permission to organise the TB mass screenings among the mining communities. Apparently they are hesitant to give their permission. Dr Turner asked whether I might join him and explain how Nonnatus Mission's experience in outreach will provide treatment and care to those affected, and not only use them as objects for research."

Shelagh looked slightly puzzled. What was she supposed to do with this information, she wondered.

"Anyway, he has an appointment at the Regional Health Office in Arusha at noon," Sister Julienne explained, "I offered to go with him but I have just received an email which requires me to take part in an urgent Skype call with the mother house about next year's budget. I was wondering whether you might accompany Dr Turner? You are even better suited for this task than I am; you developed the proposal with Dr Turner."

Shelagh smiled meekly. She had not seen Dr Turner since the fete, ten days ago, and the thought of him made her breath hitch. "Of course, Sister", she said, painfully aware that she would never decline what was asked of her from her superior.

Two hours later, Shelagh heard a car enter the compound and slowly got up from the bench outside the main building where she had been waiting for Dr Turner. It was going on ten, the crisp cool morning air slowly giving way to the dry and dusty heat of the day.

Shelagh carefully put her scarf around her shoulders to warm herself in his car, anticipating him having turned on the air condition. Then she took her bag and slowly walked towards the car.

"Shelagh," Dr Turner gasped through the open window when he noticed her approaching his car.

"Dr Turner," she greeted him curtly.

"I …was expecting Sister Julienne," he stuttered while quickly getting out and walking around the car to open the door for her.

"Sister Julienne has another urgent appointment. I am covering for her," she replied.

"I see," he continued. "I'm sorry I am a little late. I couldn't find a decent tie."

"That tie seems perfectly… appropriate", she said slowly. She wondered why he was talking about ties among all things. He hardly ever wore ties, but today's meeting was an official one, and an important one, too.

Without the consent of the Regional Health Officer, Dr Turner would not be able to implement his new programme. They had had already gotten the consent while they had been developing the proposal, but after a staff rotation, a new Regional Health Officer had just taken the post and apparently was reluctant to sign the documents Dr Turner needed to begin with his programme.

Dr Turner was looking at Shelagh intently and warmly said: "I appreciate your support today."

"I am here as a favour to Sister Julienne, that is all", she replied matter-of-factly and got into the car.

As usual, Patrick had forgotten to turn down the volume of his car CD player and the music hit them fairly loud when he started the ignition. The Smiths' There Is A Light That Never Goes Out had been the last song playing on some mixtape CD he had put in last night and Morrissey sang "and if a ten-tonne truck kills the both of us" before Patrick managed to switch off the music.

"Well, speaking of appropriateness," Shelagh said barely audible.

Patrick blushed and made a mental note to remember to switch off whatever he was listening to next time before he picked up a passenger. "I am sorry," he mumbled. "I hope you don't feel offended by my choice of music."

Shelagh pressed her lips together before saying curtly: "Considering that traffic accidents, particularly those involving poorly maintained trucks, are a main cause of death in Tanzania, I don't think this is a very fitting song while driving over here."

Patrick swallowed. Was there any chance this day might get worse?

They spent the one-hour drive almost in complete silence, only occasionally commenting on some particularly old and dangerously looking vehicle, often prone to deadly traffic accidents on Tanzanian streets.

The pair arrived at the Regional Health Office in good time but then had to wait almost one hour until the meeting began. Patrick and Shelagh sat in silence in the waiting area, awkwardly glancing at each other when they thought the other would not look.

When they finally were asked inside, the Regional Health Officer seemed not in favour of allowing the mass screenings at the mining sites at first. He explained that he was tired of the many researchers approaching him for permissions to carry out studies and screenings without ever providing his office with the outcome of their research.

Shelagh had observed that local authorities were slowly becoming more alert to the many aid and research programmes undertaken by Western agencies and individuals in the country. Many came here and did whatever fit their own agenda without ever questioning whether it really helped local communities. Researchers gathered lots of data, but hardly ever did local communities appear to benefit from the outcomes.

Now they sat with the new Regional Health Officer, apparently highly critical of their endeavour and Shelagh noticed Dr Turners forehead crease with worry and anger. She felt a wave of affection for him rise inside her and swallowed hard before speaking up.

She tried to put all her persuasive power into her argument, explaining how everyone who tested positive and their families were entitled to TB treatment under the programme supervised by Dr Turner. Moreover, it meant that no additional costs would be placed on the communities or the Regional Authorities – who would, nevertheless, receive regular updates with the latest data and findings of the programme.

Then she underlined how the detection of the disease and the free treatment would benefit the mining operations and thus the economic welfare of the whole region. This was when they had finally convinced the Officer to sign the papers Dr Turner needed to officially launch the programme.

Dr Turner strode out of the Officer's door with quick steps almost as far as the main entrance of the building. Shelagh hurried after him until he turned around and beamed at her. She felt her stomach flip and exclaimed joyfully: "You were really quite tremendous, doctor."

"So were you, Shelagh," he replied warmly.

They looked at each other and Shelagh suddenly felt an urge to embrace him to let out the energy caused by the adrenaline still rushing through her veins. But rather than giving in to her urge, she quickly hurried past Dr Turner, outside and towards his car.

He came up after her and said: "Now, before we go home, I think we both deserve a bite to eat. It's already past lunch time. I know a nice coffee place not far from here. A bit of a tourist spot, but they have good coffee and sandwiches. What do you think?"

Shelagh smiled and nodded. She suddenly felt light-headed and happy, gone was the tension of this morning.

At the coffee shop, they placed their order and sat in silence for a while. Suddenly, both began speaking at the same time.

"I am sorry, you go ahead," Patrick said.

Shelagh smiled. "No, it is all right, you begin," she chuckled.

"All right. So, about the other day, I'm awfully sorry. I don't know how I can ever make amends, but I want you to know that I am sorry for my inappropriate behaviour."

Shelagh looked at him and swallowed. This was not what she had expected. She felt uneasy with him being uncomfortable. At the same time his affectionate way of looking at her caused her to feel a tingle in her stomach.

"It is all right, Dr Turner," Shelagh said slowly. "I… I… no, it is all right. And thank you for your apology."

"I think you should call me Patrick," he said. "I mean we do make quite a good team and Dr Turner sounds so… formal."

"Patrick," Shelagh smiled shyly. Then they looked at each other for a while, neither sure what to say, until their order arrived a few minutes later. Both drank a few sips of their coffee and almost finished their sandwiches before speaking again.

"So now that we were successful, I am afraid you have added quite a bit to your workload", Shelagh remarked.

"Yes, I am afraid so," Patrick chuckled. "But only in the short run, I hope. The go-ahead means that I can now hire a coordinator for the TB programme. Once the new coordinator has arrived, I will be able to fully focus on the maternal health research programme and delegate anything else."

Shelagh smiled. She always liked him best when his eyes glistened with his passion for work.

"So are you going on holiday with Timothy?" Shelagh asked in an attempt to prolong their being together over lunch for another moment.

"Yes, Tim and I are going on a camping safari to Lake Manyara for a few days. But he is going to spend the most part of his holidays back home in London. With the new programme to be launched and all the other tasks I cannot really go on a long holiday right now." Patrick paused and took in a deep breath before he carried on, speaking a bit slower: "My mother-in-law arrived a few days ago and she is going to take him with her to London. I will go out for a few days in three weeks time to get him back here again."

"I imagine logistics are quite difficult as a single parent," Shelagh said.

"You name it. I think we found a way, Tim and I, but it is not easy. And we are lucky to have some school friends where he can stay overnight now and then. And my mother-in-law, God bless her, has been a real help since… well, since Timothy's mother died."

After that, neither spoke for a long while, Shelagh and Patrick only smiled at each other, each at loss for another, less sad, topic for their conversation.

Eventually, Patrick asked for the cheque and after he had paid, the pair walked outside towards his car. Just before he opened the passenger door for Shelagh, Patrick said: "I like the colouring of your scarf. It matches your eyes."

Shelagh blushed. He had never before commented on her appearance and it made her self-conscious. She generally did not use much energy thinking about her clothes, she just wore what she found practical in the Northern Tanzanian climate and appropriate for local tastes. But she did indeed like her scarf. She had bought it a year ago on a holiday to Zanzibar because she, too, had liked how the different shades of blue matched the blue of her eyes.

Shelagh quickly climbed into the car and Patrick went to do the same. After he had started the car and motioned it on the street, he suggested: "If you want, we could turn on the music. You can choose this time. Perhaps something more… appropriate?"

Shelagh grinned at him lopsidedly and opened the hatch. A few CDs fell out and she exclaimed: "Oh, I am sorry," only to be calmed by Patrick.

"Never mind. It is my fault. I shoved them inside this morning in an attempt to tidy up the car a little."

Shelagh smiled and lifted the CDs from the floor. She flipped through them and said: "I see, you're firmly grounded in the 80s?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes, and I am proud to admit it. Tim thinks it is horribly embarrassing. But I love that music. The 80s was my decade, somehow. I qualified, did a lot of travelling. Met Tim's mother, …." His voice trailed off.

"Oh," Shelagh said. "So you were, -. Well, never mind," she stopped herself.

"No, go on, please," Patrick encouraged her.

"I am sorry, I should not be prying. You said that you met Timothy's mother in the 1980s, but he was born when? In 2001?"

"Yes," Patrick explained. "We met about the time I graduated from university, in 1984. Marianne was already working as a magazine journalist. She travelled a lot. And I worked a lot, too. Sometimes we would not see each other for a whole month. At first we literally didn't have any time for even thinking about a child. And then, -" Patrick paused and smiled a weary smile. "Well, we split up in the early nineties and only got back together a few years later."

Shelagh looked at him in surprise. She had never questioned the Turner's happiness. While she still pondered whether he considered it rude of her to ask about the details, Dr Turner carried on: "Yes, we were separated for almost four years. When we got back together in 1997 we got married within four weeks. We just knew then."

Shelagh smiled. "Glad you did. We wouldn't have Timothy otherwise."

Patrick chuckled. "Oh yes, I cannot imagine my life without him. As difficult as it can be at times." He paused again before adding: "We weren't entirely certain that we wanted to have children. Well, at least Marianne wasn't. It was only after her father died, in 1999 that she seriously began talking about having children."

Shelagh made a humming sound. "My father was 40 when I was born," she said. "My parents had gotten married in their thirties and I was a much-awaited gift, so they told me. And it took them several years to have me."

Patrick quickly glanced over to her before focusing on the street again. "After Tim was born, we soon tried for another child but it never happened. Marianne blamed herself for waiting too long. She was over 40 already, but there could have been so many reasons."

"It does not…," Shelagh began but halted.

"What? What did you want to say?" Patrick asked.

"No, I think it would mean overstepping," Shelagh said hesitantly.

"No, please, don't worry. I can handle it."

"Well, I was going to say that it,… it does not need to, umm, be the woman's fault," she almost whispered, turning crimson red. "No offense intended," she added, voice still quiet.

Patrick laughed, enchanted by her boldness paired with insecurity. "None taken. You are certainly right. We'll never know what the reason was. And I am happy that Timothy has turned out such a great lad, even though I certainly fail quite often as a parent."

"Don't say this," Shelagh said, voice still weak. "You do what you can and if not now, in hindsight, Timothy will appreciate it. Take it from someone who has been there."

Patrick sighed. As much as he loved talking with her, he did not want to spoil his good mood by thinking about his concerns over his son. "Thank you, Shelagh. This means a lot, coming from you." He paused and then said: "Didn't you want to chose some music?" reassuringly brushing her thigh with his left hand, not wanting her to feel shunned off.

"Alright," Shelagh said, glad that he had given her an opportunity to maneuver away from the rather delicate topic they had arrived at.

She chose a CD from the pile she still held in her lap, put it into the CD slot and put the others carefully back in the glove compartment.

"Ah, Sting, you cannot make a mistake with him," Patrick commented upon listening the first beats of "Fields of Gold."

"I just love that song," Shelagh said dreamily.

"Well, nice that we two can agree on the music," Patrick commented. "Aren't you a bit young, though, to listen to this kind of music? Although it sheds a lot of positive light on you, I'd say," he chuckled. "What was it you used to listen to?"

Shelagh chuckled. "When I was a teenager I had a good friend, Duncan. He was a few years older than me and lived next door. He introduced me to all kinds of music from the 70s and 80s. I may not have developed my taste any further than this once I moved to London in 1998."

"Oh, Duncan, I see," Patrick said with a wicked undertone.

"If you want to know, he is happily living with his boyfriend of 15 years now," she replied curtly and Patrick grinned, amused about her annoyed reaction.

They drove on in silence, and Shelagh hummed along to the tune. Patrick smiled and when the song was over he said: "You have a beautiful voice."

Shelagh blushed again and smiled shyly. "Thank you," she almost whispered.

They fell silent again, but unlike the tense silence on their drive in the morning, this time both felt content in each other's presence.

When they arrived at Nonnatus Mission, it was almost six o'clock. Patrick wanted to leave immediately but Shelagh asked him to come inside to tell Sister Julienne about their success.

As expected, Sister Julienne was glad to hear about it and invited Patrick to stay for dinner. He declined, explaining that he needed to get home to his son. He said good-bye and walked to his car. Shelagh accompanied him, feeling strangely unable to just let him leave.

When they arrived at his car, Patrick turned towards Shelagh and looked at her affectionately: "Thank you for your support, Shelagh. Without you I would not have succeeded, I am certain," he said quietly.

Shelagh smiled. "Oh I don't think so. You did very well. He may have needed his time, but he would have come around eventually, I am certain."

Patrick opened his mouth as if to say something but didn't. Instead, the pair stood in silence for a while, looking at each other before Patrick nodded towards Shelagh and muttered he better get going or Timothy might report him as missing.

Shelagh watched his car disappear and remained in her spot for a while, even after the watchman had already closed the gate. She felt confused. Why was it that her mood had turned from one extreme to another today? This morning, she had dreaded to even see him and now she felt almost sad that he had to leave.

Shelagh was startled out of her brooding by a door shutting loudly. She turned around and slowly walked towards the main house. It would be dinner time soon.