Chapter 3: Making up.

"Shelagh," he sounded desperate, "I didn't mean what I said, it's just after all that you've been through, I want to keep you safe. Please tell me you understand!"

Her head remained buried in his chest, half under his coat, so he continued, stroking her hair, which had fallen out of its loose coil.

"Last night I was already late for Timothy. I would have come straight back only the little blighter was sick in the car, and wouldn't stop being sick all night!" She had stopped crying now, and looked up anxiously, still in his arms.

"Is he ok?"

"He's fine now." With one hand he started to wipe her tear stained cheeks with his handkerchief, the other was still firmly wrapped around her waist.

"You were angry with me," Shelagh whispered, feeling better by the minute,

"Not angry, worried. I'm sorry, it was...unforgiveable of me!" he exclaimed looking ashamed, and exhausted she now noticed.

"You've been up all night," she said bringing her hand up to his brow to stroke it. She then noticed a small queue forming outside the surgery. Patrick's patients seemed to find the sight of their Doctor, on the other side of the road, his arms wrapped around a lady, quite interesting. She decided to draw his attention to the fact,

"I think you might be needed Doctor Turner."

"Oh hang them, they can wait," he said, shockingly unconcerned with his duty, "I'm needed here!"

"You weren't going to leave them standing there, while you came over to my flat this morning were you?" she looked shocked.

"I most certainly was." He really was disturbingly handsome when he was dishevelled in the morning she thought,

"I will go and look in on Timothy now, and you had better go and look after those patients."

"Shelagh we have to talk... please understand I didn't mean a word of what I said last night. I'll meet you at my house in about an hour, sooner if I can. I'll drive you there now."

"No, I'll take the bus," she said softly, her eyes gently warning him not to insist that she didn't take public transport. He stood completely still watching her as she walked away from him down the quiet street, her hair magnificent in the morning sunlight. She was tying it back up again now. He tore his attention back to his patients, most of whom were spellbound by what they had seen, and possibly tempted to rush back home and spread the news.

......

Timothy was in bed, but he promised Shelagh he was feeling fine.

"Dad thinks I ate something bad."

"Probably, but you had better stay here until he gets back in an hour or so Timothy."

"I'm quite bored."

"Well, what would you like to do?" asked Shelagh.

"Do you like card tricks?" asked Timothy hopefully.

"I love them!"

He was happy to show her all the tricks he knew, and together they looked at the magic book Granny Parker had given him for Christmas. The sound of the door opening, and someone leaping up the stairs made them look up.

"Hello! How is the patient?" asked Doctor Turner.

"Doing well I think," replied Shelagh, "but he hasn't eaten anything, just had a little water."

Timothy lay down, and closing his eyes, decided to have a nap.

"Gosh, it must be serious!" teased his father, kissing his son on the forehead. He drew the curtains in Timmy's bedroom, and he and Shelagh crept out and down the stairs.

The housekeeper was busy in the kitchen, so they decided to go out for a walk while Timothy slept. The street was a pleasant one, and there was a small park nearby so they headed for that, holding hands.

"My wife and I rarely had time to do this." Patrick said quietly, "I was always at work. She was usually very good about it, but when she died, I spent a long time feeling...terribly guilty. I hope she was happy, but I can't really be sure. I should have spent more time with her and Timothy, but there was always so much work to do, always another emergency. They should have come first."

"I'm sure she knew you loved her," Shelagh reassured him.

"I hope she did." He looked so sad, she wanted to help him, but could only listen.

They were now in the park, and moved over to sit on a bench opposite the duck pond. He took her hands in his.

Doctor Turner's usually assured voice was not quite steady as he said, "I have lost too many patients to TB, seen too many families destroyed."

"But the treatment is so much better now. I no longer have active disease and I'll be monitored closely."

"But you must take care of yourself, if not for you own sake, for mine and Timothy's. Please."

"I will, I promise I will." Her eyes looked up adoringly but they were pleading with him too,

He moved closer still as he said, "Of course you need to work. In fact we aren't really coping without you. Just not too much, too soon."

"Very well," she was smiling up at him now, " But I'm used to hard work remember. I'll go mad if I have any more rest!"

Patrick sighed, "Which reminds me, I have my rounds to do."

"Let's not argue again,"

"Oh I don't know," he teased, "making up is actually rather wonderful!"

As the park seemed reasonably deserted that morning, the Doctor decided to prove his point by folding her lovingly in his arms.