Patrick had been out all night. When he arrived home he was exhausted. General Practice is a young man's game and he wasn't feeling much like a young man that morning.
Shelagh greeted him at the door, "Patrick, I was worried you'd never get home."
"All that bloody snow made it impossible to get anywhere. I'm lucky I didn't get stuck in a drift," he exclaimed shaking off his overcoat.
"Here," she said handing him Teddy, "I'll make you a nice breakfast then off to bed."
Patrick squeezed his infant son and offered a thought of thankfulness, a thought certainly not a prayer. He sat down as Angela was buzzing around like a busy bee.
"Angela go see what Mummy's doing," Patrick suggested looked for some quiet. Feeling a bit guilty at sending her away, but fatigue had overwhelmed him.
A few moments later, he heard, "OH NO Angela! Patrick!"
Quickly he jumped up and went towards Shelagh's voice in the hall. There was Shelagh holding a pouting Angela's hand and looking down at him open bag.
"I told you to put it up high! She could have gotten into anything, Patrick," Shelagh raised her voice quite angrily. Shelagh rarely raised her voice and even then it was not a holler, but Patrick knew to not argue back. He'd always lose.
"Shelagh, I'm sorry. I'm so tired and I had to take off my boots and coat. Then I had Teddy. I forgot. I know how dangerous it is. I really am sorry," he pleaded with a mea culpa meant to keep peace.
"Put it away now. Then come eat your breakfast," she scolded him, taking the baby from him and added, "Come along Angela, you know not to touch Daddy's bag."
Patrick hated when he made Shelagh cross. He had learned she often expressed anger when she was feeling afraid.
Tim came down and ask, "Are you having a row, your voices woke me?"
"Mum was upset because I left my bag out. It frightened her."
"Dad, you're the one who always tells me not to leave my things about," Tim said.
"Tim, I made a mistake. I was out all night," Patrick defended himself.
Patrick quietly sat and ate his breakfast. His night had not gone well and he was not ready to speak of it. Then his inattentiveness put Angela at risk and rightfully angered Shelagh. Patrick had learned how to handle his wife's anger. It was rare, but the wrong approach left them both feeling regretful.
Patrick remembered one of their first rows. It occurred when they had barely been married four months. They should have been blissful newlyweds, but instead had already suffered the blow of Shelagh's inability to conceive and the aftermath of Timothy's polio. What Patrick remembered most was his feeling of dread, not for marrying Shelagh...never, but for the way things had transpired. He felt as though by marrying her, he had changed her from an extremely efficient and competent professional to a housewife. He had desperately wanted her as his wife, but never gave a thought to what making her a housewife would mean. He knew that she took on her new position with great pride, but that it also left her longing for more. At the time her work was limited to helping out at clinic two afternoons a week and part time at the surgery. That was not enough to fulfill his wife and keep her content. She was happy enough when they anticipated that a baby would be imminent, but when the devastating news came she become less and less content in her role.
As a result she put all her energy into keeping Timothy, who was still gaining strength and using calipers to walk, safe. She also relied on Timothy to help her occupy her time during the long hours while Patrick was working. So the day he came back from Nonnatus House without Timothy, Shelagh was feeling both worried and lost. When she spoke angrily at Patrick for leaving Timothy to play in the streets, he did not respond calmly as he had since learned to when his wife was angry.
It was his own guilt which caused him to turn angry as well when she blamed both of them for leaving Tim alone the day he was taken ill. He even dared to wagged his finger like she was a child. At the time, both had been secretly burdening blame on themselves for Timothy's polio. He was a doctor and missed every symptom in his own son, because he was too busy thinking about getting married. Shelagh felt responsible because she had been minding him and failed to recognize the signs as well. Patrick thought how hard it was to recognize that couple that they once had been.
Patrick had just settled into bed, when Shelagh came in. She climbed on the bed and kissed his forehead. "Patrick, I'm sorry."
"I know love. You were right to be upset."
"I haven't even asked about your night," she said as she lay down beside him settling her head on his shoulder.
"Awful," he said.
"Tell me dear," Shelagh said, they both knew that he needed to share or his burdens would weigh him down.
"It was worse than the Carter delivery and not just because you were not there," he said as he ran his fingers through her hair, "a long slow twin delivery including external version. You taught Nurse Franklin well, but none of our training helped when the first twin was stillborn clearly undernourished in utero."
"Oh dear, Twin-twin transfusion syndrome," Shelagh said.
"Yes, it would appear so," he sighed.
"That poor mother."
"Yes," Patrick said as he turned towards Shelagh and buried himself in her embrace and let sleep overtake him. She must have managed to free herself, because when he woke a few hours later, he was alone. Listening he heard the voices of his family, filling the rooms below and his heart.