Chapter 9. Your master quits you; and for your service done him.

Shelagh met Meg Carter and they agreed that she would be her doula. Shelagh felt an odd companionship with this clumsy, energetic yet sweet woman. Shelagh was soon a confidante of hers regarding the separation from Maeve and if it was a right or a wrong decision to have a baby.

XXXX

No confidences were shared when Shelagh went to say goodbye to Patrick before leaving. He was oddly off-key and distracted.

"Shelagh, I could drive you to the school tomorrow. "

"No need, Doc, it is easier to get there by tube."

"Do you have anything else that you - need? Books? Articles? You are always welcome to use my handbooks here in my office."

"No, Patrick, I think the nursing school library will be quite sufficient."

There was an awkward handshake and a wan smile. He was brushing his hair back like he was nervous. She really loved his lopsided mane.

XXXX

In the next months, Shelagh was enjoying herself with her studies. She was finding her true vocation with babies and mothers.

She was emailing sporadically with the Illyria Clinic people. She also had a fairly intensive email contact with Timothy, who was thinking of his life choices as well. Shelagh was encouraging him to continue medical studies, although she tried to sound not too bossy.

From Tim, she also heard snippets of his father. Patrick didn't write to her much. To be honest, neither did she to him. She hoped the distance would help her to see through this…thing.

She had received some emails from him, in one of which he seemed a bit edgy:

"Dear Shelagh.

I have heard your news from Trixie and Phyllis, good for me. It seems your studies are going well. I also saw the picture of you sent to Timothy. It is amazing what you can do with emails. I think he said it was sent as something called an attachment?

We are fine here at the Clinic, although I must say that Miss Aldrin, your stand-in, is not the teacher you are (with the computer).

All the best,

Patrick.

P.S. You looked fine in that picture. You wear scarves nowadays?"

It was good that the father and the son were in regular contact. Shelagh felt a sense of completion in that, she had been useful in some ways.

Another mail from Patrick was very short. "How's your smoking strike going? I miss our biscuit breaks. Patrick."

XXX

In August, she got a call from Meg Carter. Her labour had started, she was on her way to the hospital. Shelagh set to leave right away to the Illyria Clinic. Traffic was slow, so she had no time to greet anyone at the Clinic. She hurried straight away to the anteroom of the Delivery Unit. She dressed in protective garments and entered the Delivery Room.

"Shelagh!"

Three pairs of eyes met her. Meg was relieved and stretched out for her hand. Trixie smiled behind her mouth-cover and said "Good to see you, Shelagh." Patrick smiled, too, and said in a very merry voice: "Hello, nurse!"

"Oh no, I am not yet a nurse. Good to be here." Shelagh turned to Meg.

Patrick became focused on the business of birth again. "Things are going as expected, Shelagh. Just the way I like it."

XXXXX

The baby was almost born. A phone started to ring in the room. "You take it Shelagh," Trixie said, moving to take Meg's hand.

An anxious voice of Mrs. Monica was at the other end of line. "I am speaking from the inner office, Shelagh. There is someone called Maeve Wells down here at the reception. She is rather wild and says that her partner Meg Carter is giving birth here at the moment, and that she wants to be there. In the Delivery Room. I have explained to her that as she's not registered as anyone's closest relation, she can't be admitted to the ward, and anyway, I can't even give her any news. I didn't even confirm that Meg Carter is here. Should I call the security? She seems so upset. I checked that there is indeed a Meg Carter giving birth today, you are there as her doula, aren't you?"

Shelagh puffed. "Monica, don't call the security. I will come and talk with her after the baby is born. Say to her something, like that we are now checking the situation, but it will take time, and that you have to consult people…give her hope, but not too much hope."

"OK, I will do that. I thought that the constellation of Venus and Mars might make things a bit chaotic today..."

Shelagh put the phone down. She went back to Meg. Trixie was encouraging her. "You are doing very well, Meg. One push…."

A baby was born, a girl, but she didn't cry. Trixie was rubbing her back. Finally, the baby cried, loud and hungry for life. Meg broke into tears. "Let me see her."

The baby was placed for some seconds on her mother's bosom. Then Patrick gently took the baby away. "I am sorry, Ms. Carter, the baby needs some extra checking, as she is a bit cold. Trixie, could you put her some moments to the incubator. It isn't for long, I assure you. It seems Shelagh has something to say to you."

Shelagh sat by Meg's side. "Meg, it seems that Maeve is at the reception right now. She wants to see you and the baby. Is it all right for her to come up?"

She glanced at Patrick as this was not strictly the accepted procedure. Patrick nodded, with a little smile.

Meg was glad and teary. "Is she really here? Of course she can come to see…us."

Shelagh went down to the reception area to fetch Maeve. Maeve was given an apron and a cap and they led her to the delivery room where the young Ms. Carter was back in her mother's arms.

XXXX

"Well, that was comforting to see. A reunion," Patrick said to Shelagh in the anteroom.

"Yes. The separation of lovers is a terrible thing," Shelagh said.

He looked at her like he was about to say something…

Then Shelagh took the protetcive cap away and shook her hair and patted it to its shape. It was a cloud of corn-coloured silk, with some soft curls in the end.

Patrick was speechless.

"What, Patrick? Something the matter?" Shelagh inquired not entirely without guile.

"What have you done with your hair?" he gasped.

"Nothing much. I let it grow, and stopped colouring it black. Well, I might have gone to the hairdressers to get a shade of - cream-and-honey." She giggled a little. Now that the difficult moment of revelation was over, she was relaxed. "Do you know what this moment calls for? A cigarette."

Patrick grinned. "What a wonderful dirty little thought. Luckily, I have a pack here somewhere. Let's go to the kitchen of this floor."

"Oh dear, you haven't fallen off the wagon when I was away?"

"Not so much, I may have had two cigarettes while you were away. During the last five months and sixteen days. I may have become a secret cake eater with Mrs. Monica. See this little pot belly?" He was babbling and she loved his babbling.

They took away the protective garments and went to the kitchen.

He found a pack of cigarettes. "Let's consume just one cigarette together. Open that window. We have to keep the smoke out of this room."

He lit a cigarette and they leaned out of the window, sharing the precious one, taking puffs of it. Their fingers touched each other when they exchanged it.

"So, you haven't fallen off the wagon on your study leave?" Patrick inquired.

"No, not really."

"Well, men are the weaker sex. "'For boy, our fancies more giddy and unfirm are than women's.'"

Shelagh raised her brow. "Boy?"

Patrick gave her an appreciative look. "Your women's weeds are rather nice. Blue suits you. It suits that new colour of your hair." His gaze was longing and keen.

"Have you heard of Timothy lately?" Shelagh made a quick diversion.

"Oh yes, he's coming here tomorrow. For the Feast of Fools charity event, and he has a Doctor Who gig here in London next week, so he will stay for a while. Guess what, great news. He has decided to continue medical studies in January."

"That is good. I rather suspected he might," Shelagh demurely said. "I have been writing with Timothy quite a lot. He helped me to pass the exam in obstetrics."

"You could have asked me for help. You wrote so few emails to me when you were away. "

She liked the pining in his voice.

"And I still have pretty good knowledge of obstetrics, wouldn't you say, based on the experience you had today? I used to be a good coach of exams. I could produce fairly good testimonials. Girls really liked me as a teacher."

"You are fishing for compliments. "'I was adored once' " Shelagh recited dramatically.

The Twelfth Night quote touched some deep nerve in them. They became helpless with laughter.

"I might have been. Who can say… I wasn't," he stuttered, drying his eyes.

Then he turned serious. "Tim says a friend of his is coming too. Someone called Delia Busby. She is the new flat mate. I wonder if there is something going on between him and that Delia. Do you have any idea?"

"Yes, Patrick, I have a pretty good idea. There is nothing going on between them. I think Delia helps him with the Events, for money."

Patrick raised his upper lip. "Well, it is good someone has a clear idea of what is going on in my family. "

After a while he continued: "I should stop smoking. You should stop smoking. Even an odd cigarette once a week is a lethal weapon. Tim calls them coffin nails."

"Oh?"

"He does. He warned me that if I would like to see my grandchildren I should not only stop smoking but skip biscuits and cake, too. But if there is not anything going on between Delia and him, it is perhaps premature to hope for grandchildren."

"Perhaps it is. But I hope we will see our grandchildren…" Shelagh realized her blunder and blushed. "I mean I'd like to see my grandchildren, too."

It was too late. He was tuned to detect undertones in everything she said. His smile was a mixture of delight and wickedness. "Yes. That would be a nice thing to see." Then he stubbed out the cigarette, "Let that be the last one. Come one Mannion, one high-five, for the old times sake."

He raised his hand. Shelagh did the same and they clapped. But after the clap he caught her hand in a tight grip. Their fingers were intermingled. He kept the hold and moved closer with shining eyes. Their wrists were against one another and Shelagh could feel his heightened pulse.

Then his pager started to beep. "Oh damn!" he swore from the bottom of his heart and let her hand go. He checked the pager and turned to her. "I have to go. An emergency caesarian awaits."

He left but came hastily back from the corridor and leaned to the door frame. "Will you be here tomorrow?" Shelagh nodded. "Will you come to the Feast of Fools Dance?" he entreated.

"Yes, I will come to the dance."

"Will you come there with me?"

"Ermm….yes."

"Good. See you there."

He left. Shelagh heard him running down the staircase.

"Is this a date?" she wondered. "I have a date with Patrick. Odd."

She burst into sobs, mixed with laughter. She had to sit down.