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It was in the car on the way back from a late clinic that they had their first argument.
"I just don't think you're ready to be back on call yet!" Doctor Turner was explaining as Shelagh frowned at him. "It was only five months ago that you left the Sanatorium and I don't want you to go out at night. You might catch a cold, or-"
"Patrick," Shelagh stopped him with a steely glint in her eye, "I have been a nurse in Poplar, in one form or another, for ten years. I understand that at first, while I was recuperating, it was inadvisable for me to do anything too strenuous, but I can't sit around any longer!"
"But you don't sit around!" he burst out. "You run the clinics, you do rounds-"
"But I don't deliver babies anymore, and that's why I came here in the first place! Nonnatus is stretched tight enough now Chummy is a mother, and it isn't fair on the others if I don't pull my weight! Jenny yawns at every meal and Cynthia has fallen asleep in clinic more than once. And quite apart from that, it is my purpose. I have to help these women."
He parked the car outside 19 Kenilworth Row and turned to her. "They will be stretched even tighter if you become ill again. That's what will happen if you're out at all hours, in the rain and snow. You cannot risk becoming ill again Shelagh!"
Shelagh opened the door and walked round to the boot, pulling her bag out and yanking it down (slightly harder than she meant to). "And I cannot refuse to help these women just because I was ill! They need me Patrick!"
"But we need you too!" he cried, slamming his own door.
Dinner was a fairly quiet affair that evening. Timothy, sensitive of the atmosphere, wolfed down his sausages and bolted upstairs – ostensibly to "do schoolwork". Shelagh collected the plates and began washing them at the sink, accidentally splashing water on the floor as she dropped then into the bowl. As she huffed and grabbed a tea towel to mop up the spill, Patrick came in.
"Here, let me do that", he offered, rushing over.
"I'm not going to break!" she snapped back, and instantly regretted it as he took on the appearance of a wounded dog. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just out of sorts." She handed him the towel and began attending to the washing again, scrubbing the plates like she could find an answer in them. Patrick came up next to her and leaned on the countertop.
"No, I'm sorry. I don't want to stop you doing your job, I really don't. I just – I can't lose you. And if you go back to being on call then you might become ill again, and I couldn't – I couldn't take that. You work too hard."
As he spoke, Shelagh's shoulders slumped slightly and she bit her lip. As she put the plate on the draining board and turned to him, Patrick was shocked to see that she had tears in her eyes. She took a deep. Shuddering breath and looked up at him.
"I'm afraid I was being rather selfish. I just feel so much better and I can't stomach any more sitting around while others are kept so busy! It feels like I'm betraying someone – like I'm betraying myself. It is my purpose, Patrick." Shelagh ducked her head down after this and shook it almost imperceptibly.
"But what if you become ill again? If you're put back on call again then you'll be out all hours. Anything could happen." He reached for her hands and held them as she breathed deeply. Finally she looked up at him again with a glint in her eyes.
"Why don't we make a compromise?"
And so it was that Nurse Shelagh Turner was officially put back on the rota for delivery between the hours of 8 am – 6 pm. Sister Julienne, when Shelagh announced her intention, had opened her mouth to unknowingly state the same reservations as her husband. Shelagh very quickly ran through her reasons and caveats, and promised again to be careful. Sister Julienne studied her with a knowing look on her face as she ran through the speech. It was obvious from her rapidity that she had already explained all this to someone earlier. At least he considers her health more than she does, the Sister reflected. Finally Shelagh finished and stood looking at her hopefully.
"I understand I am not the only person whose reservations you have addressed regarding this?" she said simply.
Shelagh blushed. "Well...no, Sister. Patrick – Dr Turner didn't want me to put myself back on the rota, but he agreed if it's only within certain hours."
Sister Julienne nodded. "I wouldn't want to put you on the night shift anyway. Even without your recent illness the logistics are too complicated. But you must be sure about this. Have you spoken to your doctors?"
"Yes, they said I was fit to return to work."
"Did you tell them the exact nature of this work?"
Shelagh blushed again, and looked down. "I told them I was a midwife, but they may not have been so clear on...when I would be a midwife."
"I know you have your purpose Nurse Turner, and your reasons. But your health is just as important as that of the mothers you nurse in this case. We need you. A recurrence of your tuberculosis would be devastating – for all of us." Sister Julienne could say no more as tears sprang to her eyes at the mere thought of her beloved Shelagh becoming ill again. Thankfully Shelagh, looking sheepishly at the floor, didn't notice, and Sister Julienne quickly blinked them away.
"I will be careful Sister, but I would only be doing much of what I currently do anyway. And it would mean that everything was back to normal, back to what it used to be. Or as close as it can ever be, anyway."
"You will take care and not overwork yourself?"
"I will, Sister."
The first patient she was called out to was Mrs Molly Brown, at roughly 1 pm the following day. Cycling down the road next to the docks, she felt completely free. It was difficult managing the bike's thin wheels with the deep cobbles and heavy delivery pack but, she reflected, it was much simpler now she didn't have to manage the habit. Tucking it in had always been cumbersome, whereas her new blue dress fluttered in the wind, and she could feel one or two tendrils of hair escaping. As she navigated around a particularly deep cobble her back gave a slight twinge and Shelagh winced, attributing it to being out of practise. When she arrived there was a set of slippery stairs to navigate, but at least it was clear where the woman was. Her screams could be heard even down the street, and they only intensified as Shelagh got closer. As she reached the landing and rested against the rail for a second to regain her breath, a man with a panicked expression walked up to her.
"Are you the midwife?"
"Yes, yes I am. Would you be Mr Brown?" she questioned, allowing him to show her the way to the room.
"That's me. Molly's just inside there."
"Thank you," she said, smiling.
Opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of a stark room, bleakly lit by one filthy window with peeling newspaper taped on. There was a heavy smell of damp and rot, and Shelagh felt slightly sick as it hit her nostrils. The bed sat in the middle of the room, with a heavily pregnant woman holding its rail and moaning. She was already covered in sweat and Shelagh could see that her waters had recently broken from the puddle on the floor.
"You're here!" she grunted, as Shelagh put her bag on the floor and crossed over.
"Yes I am. Now, I'll just make you a bit more comfortable, then we'll see how far away your baby is from being born, Molly."
Once Molly Brown was lying on the bed, Shelagh began her examinations.
"Just about six centimetres dilated! Not far to go now Molly, it won't be long."
Shelagh had dressed herself in the white scrubs for labour and was preparing to check Molly again when she heard an almighty crash from below and a yell of pain.
"That sounds like my Jim!" Molly cried. "Please, go see if he's alright Nurse?"
Shelagh dithered for a second. Though she loathed leaving a patient in labour, it did sound like he was seriously injured and Molly wouldn't rest until she knew. Finally, she relented.
"Alright, but I'll just be quick."
It didn't take her long to find the source of the yell. Jim was leaning against the rail on the bottom landing, his arm very obviously dislocated and his face a grimace of pain.
"My goodness!" Shelagh started upon seeing him and rushed over, careful not to fall over. "What happened?"
"I was rushing down the stairs, and I slipped. All this damn water..." he breathed out, wincing at the slight movements.
"I'll go and call Doctor Turner." Shelagh decided.
First Shelagh went upstairs to make sure Molly was alright. She didn't seem to have progressed any further, but everything had happened so quickly already that Shelagh knew it couldn't be long.
"What's happened? Is he alright?" Molly panted, trying to raise herself off the bed.
"Your husband's had a fall Molly. I'm afraid I'm going to have to go and call Doctor Turner so he can sort Jim out, but I won't be long, I promise. You just stay there, you're doing beautifully."
Molly nodded helplessly and yelled again as another wave of pain overtook her.
"You do that love, go and call your husband. I can-I can wait."
Shelagh ran down the stairs as fast and carefully as she could, dodging the largest puddles. Kneeling down to Jim, she checked him over again. His eyes were glazed over with pain and looking closer, she could see that his ankle was also badly twisted.
"Don't worry Mr Brown, I won't be long. I'll go and call Dr Turner now."
"How's Molly?" he cried after her. "How's my baby?"
Shelagh had no time to reply as she sprinted to the end of the road and desperately looked for the nearest phone box. There was no one nearby whose help she could ask, and it took her another precious minute to spot the box. Dialling the number with shaking hands she prayed fervently that he would pick up. One ring went by...then another...then the third as she crossed herself. Finally on the fifth ring, she heard his voice.
"Doctor Turner speaking?"
"Patrick, it's me, it's Shelagh." She cried.
"Shelagh, what's wrong, what's happened? Where are you?" he replied, and she could hear the fear in his voice as he, no doubt, imagined all the worst possibilities.
"It's not me – I'm at a delivery and the woman's husband has had a bad fall. His shoulder looks dislocated and I think he's done something to his ankle as well. He might have concussion, I didn't have time to check – Mrs Brown is about to give birth any second."
Shelagh heard him take a deep breath to steady himself and his voice came across steady and professional. "Where are you?"
She gave him the address and said goodbye, practically breaking the box in her rush to get back to her patient. Molly Brown's screams had definitely intensified since she left, and as she ran she prayed she wouldn't be too little, too late.
As ever, thank you for reading, and please review if you have time! Just to give some warning, I'm going to be away for a fortnight from Thursday, so there will be no updates for a while - I promise I haven't forgotten!