AN: Big Thanks to the wonderful Steff for her help and encouragement. She has been killing it lately, so you should check out her fics. Reviews and feedback are lovely, so please drop a note.
Shelagh entered her son's bedroom. She had softly knocked and gained entrance with a grunt of approval. Yet again, her teenage son was morosely staring at the ceiling. He barely acknowledged her presence as she entered the room with his freshly cleaned laundry. "Tim, I know that it's the school holidays, but do you think that you can at least muster the energy to put your clothes away?" she asked.
He grunted in reply and kept his eyes toward the ceiling. Shelagh sighed as she began to place his various pieces of clothing in piles on the section of bed that he wasn't occupying. She maintained the fold and organisation of each pile with skilled precision, even down to the socks and pants.
She paused before exiting the room and stirred up her inner courage. When it came to her nursing skills, Shelagh had high confidence that she knew what to do in any given medical situation. Her training and knowledge was well-regarded by all. When she had taken up the challenge of becoming a mum to a young boy, she had hoped that instinct would help her out. Tim's new moody teenage personality was certainly a challenge to deal with, but Shelagh was determined to get to the bottom of it.
"Tim? If there's anything troubling you, well, you know that you can talk to me about it," she offered.
Tim rolled over on his bed toward her. He sat up and looked her square in the eyes.
"I have something to tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad," he said haltingly.
"That's not a promising way to start a confession," she said worriedly. "And I should know," she said a moment later to put the boy at ease.
She sat down beside him. His nervousness was readily apparent as he kept his eyes in his lap. Shelagh lifted his chin upward so that his eyes met hers. A smile came across her face as she sought to reassure her son. Sister Julienne had taught her long ago that confession was easier drawn out with compassion than alarm.
Tim let out a breath and visibly geared himself up. Shelagh waited patiently until he finally spoke still nervous.
"Do you remember when I went to a film in Chelsea a few weeks ago? I called you because I was going to be late and I didn't want you to worry," he reminded her. She nodded in recognition of the memory. "Well, I didn't call you from a phonebox. I called you from a ladies club nearby," he confessed.
"How did you get into a ladies club?" Shelagh asked stunned.
"They let me in at the door, but mum, I saw something on my way out," he said quickly.
"What did you see? Not anything criminal? " she asked concerned.
"No" he insisted and his head dropped. "I saw Miss Busby and Miss Mount there," he said softly.
"Well, it was a ladies club. You know that even nurses need to go out once in a while," she grinned as she replied. "And sometimes they go outside of Poplar to avoid patients or being recognised. Your father and I do that all the time," she reassured him.
"It's not that mum," he sighed. "I think you know that I had feelings for Miss Busby." He paused as he looked down uncomfortably. Shelagh lightly ruffled his hair and squeezed his shoulder. "I saw her there with Miss Mount and I think..." he said haltingly.
Shelagh sighed. She knew that now she had to tread a very careful line. Still, she hated having to govern her speech with her own son.
"Tim, what are you trying to say?" she asked.
He gathered his breath. Looking at her his eyes were on the side of nearly spilling tears.
"Miss Busby told me that she was already involved with someone else. I think that she's involved with Miss Mount," he said quietly.
Shelagh felt a tremor move through her. She knew that her response to such an insinuation was critical.
"Oh Timothy," she sighed. Still she kept her arm around his shoulder. Holding the young man close she spoke as carefully as she could. "Life has taught me many things. Some sweet and some cruel. Paramount amongst those lessons, however, is that - you cannot choose whom you love. After all, I was in a nun's habit when I fell in love with your father. I couldn't fight it. No matter how hard I tried. Love wins. It is an unalterable fact," she finished.
She took a moment to compose herself. Still she held onto Timothy to ground herself from losing herself in recollection.
"Still Timothy, not everyone understands how strong love is. Sometimes it is twisted. Sometimes it is misunderstood. There are those who don't understand why I left the order to marry your father. The gossip was disgustingly sordid." She shuddered at the thought of it. At the time she had turned a deaf ear to the horrible insinuations of some people about her marriage. She made sure to keep such sordid gossip away from Patrick. He surely would have lost his temper at some of the sinful sickness of wicked minds.
"Delia Busby and Patience Mount are excellent nurses. It is our responsibility to protect them from any barriers that may hinder their service to the community. You do understand that what you are implying could lead to their dismissal?" she asked tentatively.
Tim shook his head in the affirmative. His eyes darkened as he looked up to Shelagh and clenched his fists.
"Still I don't understand. What does it matter?" he asked.
Shelagh shook her head at his good naturedness. It reminded her directly of his father's naive idealism at times.
"Timothy, did you know that when I arrived here in London I was treated with such snobbery that you'd think I drank blood and had eaten my siblings just because I was a Scot and talked with a funny accent," she chuckled. "Still, it only spurred me on and I became the best midwife at Nonnatus house," she said with a small amount of pride. "Some are just afraid of what they don't understand. As a nurse you have to maintain a high standard of professionalism and there's an expectation of moral turpitude associated with the behaviour that you speak of. Whether it is fair or not," she finished.
"So what should I do? I want to help," he asked.
"Son, it is only our responsibility to defend those who cannot defend themselves. We must do what we can to allow Miss Busby and Miss Mount to serve the community. Do you understand?" she asked genuinely.
Timothy nodded his head.
"Well Tim, I think it's time that you put these clothes away, don't you?" she smiled and ruffled his hair.
It was a longstanding tradition that the Turners were expected to attend Christmas festivities at Nonnatus house. Patrick never minded the fact that he was surrounded by females at Christmas, as long as his wife was one of them. However he was cheered that this year he would be joined by Eugene, who now had the distinction of being Trixie Franklin's new fiance.
"Congratulations on your engagement," Patrick offered as he stood with the well-dressed but awkward salesman.
"Thank you Doctor," he looked over to where the blonde nurse was huddled with a group of other Nonnatuns. "I'm a lucky man," he raised a glass of orange juice.
"You better watch out. An angry lynch mob will be wanting your head once word gets out," Patrick said wryly.
Eugene looked over to where Trixie, Patsy and Sister Monica Joan stood. The blonde nurse was talking animatedly to the group - her appearance as effortlessly stunning as ever.
"I know Doctor," he grinned. "A year ago I would have spent Christmas Day in a pub, then somewhere in the gutter. I was the worst drunk you've ever seen. I had a mask of confidence, that booze propped up. Without the drink, I thought I'd shatter," he chortled taking a sip from his glass.
"But Doc, we all have our masks. Mine was killing me," he confessed. "She's proper saved me. But you know what is best about it? We help each other. Isn't that what marriage should be?" he asked.
"I think so," Doctor Turner nodded as his eyes found his wife and daughter among the sisters of Nonnatus. Sister Monica Joan pulled a pastry out of a secret compartment and split it with Angela conspiratorially. He couldn't help but laugh at the scheme between young and old.
As he looked back, the doctor saw Trixie Franklin walking toward them.
"Whatever he's been saying Doctor...well it's all true sweetie," she laughed. She took his hand and forced him to spin her as if they were dancing. Collapsing into his arms, she pecked his cheek then wiped the lipstick mark away. Patrick looked around the room.
"Where's Miss Mount gone?" he asked.
"Oh, she's escaped I suppose. The holidays really aren't her thing, and Delia's on shift today so…" she shrugged. Leaning in she whispered in the doctor's ear.
"I suspect she's gone into the garden to grab a smoke. She's nervous about the move. Perhaps you can reassure her or at least get the poor dear to calm down with a sedative or something," she motioned toward the back doorway.
Patrick nodded and decided that he could use a cigarette himself.
He found Miss Mount smoking a cigarette alone on a bench in the garden.
"Doctor," she nodded.
"We aren't on duty. You can call me Patrick," he smiled. "I hope that you don't mind if I join you," he asked as he slipped out a pack of his own cigarettes.
"Of course not," she nodded as she inhaled and exhaled smoke from her Sobranie cigarette. "Delia has tried to get me to pack up, I imagine Mrs. Turner is the same."
"Yes, it's a nasty habit. But I started when I was a boy to be like my brothers," he smiled remembering them fondly.
"Boarding school for me. It calmed my nerves after the war," she admitted.
"Yes. Truth be told, I do have an ulterior purpose to being here. Miss Franklin was worried about you. She said that you were nervous about moving away from Nonnatus," he acknowledged.
He noticed Patsy's jaw clench as her neck and face flushed.
"I know her intentions are good, but really I'm fine. I'M FINE." She dropped her cigarette and stubbed it out.
"I'm sorry if I upset you. You see, I also suffer from catastrophic over-worry and felt that I could help," he offered.
Patsy sighed and lit another cigarette. She shook her head.
"No, I'm sorry. It's just that there's so much to do..." she stopped short. "I keep making To Do lists in my head."
"Well, Shelagh and I are happy to help," he offered.
"Thank you but it's not necessary. You've already done more than enough to help us Doctor...Mr. Turner," she paused.
"I just want you to know that I know what it's like to...I had to go to Northfield for a time for treatment," he confessed. "The War...It wore me out for a time," he finished his cigarette stubbing it out.
"May I speak frankly?" Patsy asked. Patrick nodded affirmatively. "I'm a good nurse. Delia is a good nurse. She'll be a matron some day," Patsy said with a faint smile. "But all this disappears at the faintest hint or suggestion of impropriety. Please don't act as if the standard is the same."
"I know it's not," he defended.
"All one can do is wait for the penny to drop and hope that there's a means of escape. That's much easier for a man," she paused. "For now, I just want Delia to be safe. I thought that we were safe here, but even that has proven false, despite everyone's assurances," she said as she rose from the bench.
"Surely, you don't think that the sisters would say anything, do you?" he asked.
"It can't be guaranteed though, so this move is really for the best," she answered.
Patrick surveyed the nurse's face. He saw a mixture of determination and sadness throughout her features.
"Surely though, you are excited to be moving?" he asked.
The woman beside him tried to unsuccessfully hide a grin.
"I'll be more relieved when we're settled in. I've not really had a home of my own" she said with a half smile.
"I've found that there's always a never ending list of things that my other half simply must have. And she was a nun"" he laughed. "If my wife is any indication, then be prepared."
Patsy smiled. She finally seemed to relax as a cheer rose from the house.
"Time that we rejoined the party," he stood up and followed her out of the garden.
"Yes." Patsy pulled out some sweets from her pocket. "Peppermint?" she offered as she checked her watch.
Nodding and taking a mint from her hands, he saw the young woman determinedly push a smile across her face.
It was finally time to return to school from the Christmas holidays. Timothy Turner looked forward to getting back into class and putting the drama of last autumn behind him. It truly was better for him to focus on the girls in his own class. Even if they seemed superficial, perhaps he was just as wrong in his judgement of them. He had been wrong about Miss Busby, despite his implementation of the scientific method. It seemed that he needed to try out more of a variety before narrowing in on any one in particular. Natural selection did allow for anomalies and a vast variety of people. There had to be at least one girl that could talk beyond what was on Top of The Pops.
He churned over what his mum had told him that day. With fresh eyes he now observed, Miss Busby and Miss Mount together. He didn't completely understand it. It was true that their relationship served no purpose in a Darwinistic sense. No child was possible from such a same sex union, however he knew that there was never a lack for children in Poplar. Still he saw no harm in the relationship they shared. It seemed like it was all due to wrongheaded emotional thinking. And fear.
Tim resolved that he would act as his mother and father did. He would do what he could to help the two nurses as a moral imperative.
"Turner!" Mike shouted down the pavement. Tim turned to see his classmate with John in tow walking toward him.
"Can you believe Miss Simpson?" Mike asked.
"It's not that difficult. I'll help you with the maths," Tim smirked.
"I mean her figure mate," he chortled as they walked together. "It's more than a handful up top I'd say," he looked to John for confirmation.
"I thought your eyes were going to fall out they were so large. You're so obvious!" John teased.
"I'd stay after school any time to get those legs wrapped around me," Mike continued.
Tim felt his chest rise. He stopped and turned in front of the other lads.
"No woman deserves such talk. I don't want to hear it," he stood firm.
Mike's face lost all joviality. He looked toward the boy next to him.
"It looks like Turner's gone soft. After chasing skirt all last autumn that's pretty rich," he smirked with smug menace. "Maybe he's gone homo after all. All that research into lesbians turned him," he finished.
Tim began to fume. Clearly John had broken their pact of secrecy about what they had discovered in Chelsea.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Tim denied.
"What I do know," Mike pointed toward Tim's chest. "Is that I say what I like. And if I want talk about how fit a bird is then I will. Whether it's a teacher, your mum, or one of those bint nurses that you help all the time. What do you have to say about that?" he smirked.
"Mates let's just go do homework eh?" John tried to get in between the two boys.
Tim looked down at where Mike's finger was fixed. He turned away from Mike's gaze.
"See I knew it. All mouth and no trousers," he scoffed. "Now come on Turner, tell us all about those dykes you've read so much about," he shoved Tim's shoulder.
Upon reflection he wished that he really had managed to hit Mike's face. Instead he hit him in the throat, which didn't have quite the same effect. As he grappled with what he had just done, he managed to step out of the way of a swinging fist. Stumbling backward over a curb and into the road, he kept his eyes on Mike's shoulders like his father had taught him. You could always tell where the punch was coming from that way.
It had also meant that he didn't see the car coming toward him until it was too late.