The rest of the festive period passed far too quickly for Shelagh's liking. Patrick had to work for most of the time that Timothy was off school, so he had negotiated with Nonnatus House to allow Shelagh to be off work until Timothy went back. Sister Evangelina had grumbled about them being short staffed, but Sister Julienne said that they would manage. Both Shelagh and Patrick were most appreciative.
The weather between Christmas and New Year was cold, windy and very wet, so Shelagh and Timothy spent the week at home together. The cold weather and extra time which she had gained inspired Shelagh to spend the afternoons making comfort food for her family. Pies, soups, stews, cakes, biscuits and steamed pudding and custard filled the Turner's house and their stomachs. None of them could remember the last time which they had eaten so well, not counting Christmas Day at Nonnatus House, of course.
The Turners celebrated New Year at home together. Jenny, Trixie and Cynthia had invited Shelagh to see in the New Year in one of their favourite drinking haunts, but Shelagh had declined their offer. She wanted to see 1960 in with Patrick. Timothy had been allowed to sit up, but he had fallen asleep at about 10:30. Patrick carried him up to bed, put him into his pyjamas and then returned to Shelagh. He poured two glasses of whiskey, and they sat curled up on the sofa.
"A new year," Patrick said after a few moments, "A new decade. A new start."
Shelagh looked round at him as he finished the sentence. She knew what he was referring to.
"We will see what 1960 brings" she said, snuggling closer into him and sipping her whiskey. Patrick wrapped an arm round her middle.
"Everything will be alright" he said, kissing her hair. "Shall we dance, Mrs Turner?" he said, letting go of her suddenly and getting up.
"I'm wearing slacks and slippers!" Shelagh half protested, half giggled.
"So am I," Patrick said, "But it is so long since I have danced with you."
He put some gentle dance music on the record player, and took Shelagh's hand. He waltzed his wife around the room, holding her tenderly and kissing her as they moved around, unable to take their eyes off each other. Shelagh felt herself getting lost in the closeness of her husband's embrace.
At midnight, they listened to the nearby church's bells toll in the New Year. Patrick poured them both another whiskey, and, handing Shelagh hers said,
"Happy New Year, Shelagh."
"Happy New Year, Patrick." she replied, knocking her glass against his and taking a swig. "Here's to health and happiness."
"Health and happiness," Patrick replied.
They drained their glasses, and then Shelagh looked at Patrick and said,
"I think we need to really see in the New Year in style." Patrick raised an eyebrow. "I'm wearing my new lingerie," Shelagh replied with a shy grin.
They giggled at each other, and Patrick picked her up and carried her to their bedroom.
Timothy went back to school on the Monday after New Year, and Shelagh should have gone back to work the same day. She had spent the previous day coughing and sneezing and by the evening had a raised temperature. Patrick had sent her to bed, and when she had not improved on Monday morning, phoned Nonnatus House to explain the situation. Since her bout of TB, Shelagh had become much more sensitive to coughs and colds, and they affected her much more than it would anyone else. By the end of the week she felt well enough to be able to work again, but to make sure she was no longer contagious, both Patrick and Sister Julienne told her to stay at home until Monday. Knowing that they were both right, she reluctantly agreed.
Monday morning arrived and, after nearly three weeks at home, Shelagh was looking forward to getting back to work. She started to dress in a blouse and skirt suit, looking forward to wearing something other than her nightdress and the loose slacks which she had been lounging round the house in for the last fortnight. She pulled her favourite pencil skirt up her legs to her waist, and reached round to do the zip up. She could not do it up. She breathed in and tried again. The zip did not move.
"The zip must be stuck" she thought. "Patrick" she called to her husband who was in the bathroom "The zip on my skirt is stuck, can you sort it out for me?"
"I didn't need to know that!" called Timothy from his room.
"Coming Shelagh," Patrick replied, "And Timothy, don't be so cheeky."
Patrick came into the bedroom and took hold of the back of Shelagh's skirt. He gently tugged on the zip, which did not seem to be stuck, but it certainly was not going to do up, there was at least two inches between the two halves of the zip.
"The zip isn't stuck Shelagh, but it isn't going to do up. When did you last wear this skirt?"
Shelagh was baffled. "About a month ago I suppose, maybe a little longer. I must have eaten too much and lounged around too much while I have been off work. I'll take it off and wear something else."
She slipped her skirt off and it was then that Patrick caught sight of his wife's stomach. He stared at her. He was sure it looked different, more rounded perhaps. He shook his head, thinking he was imagining it. She walked past him to the wardrobe and, seeing her side on, he had an astounding thought. He wondered. Could it be possible? He had to know.
"When was your last period Shelagh?" he asked boldly, verging on sternly he realised after the words left his mouth.
Shelagh stopped dead, staring at her husband and flushed scarlet. Seeing his wife's reaction, Patrick dropped the tone of his voice.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so aggressive."
"Why do you need to know that, what has my cycle got to do with anything?"
"Lie on the bed" Patrick said, he hands shaking and his heart racing.
"What?"
"Do it, please" he said, reaching into his medical bag that was dumped on the floor for his stethoscope. "And please, when was your last period" he asked again, a pleading tone in his voice.
"September, just after Timothy went back to school" Shelagh replied, "But…"
Before she could finish her sentence, Patrick had unbuttoned her blouse and placed his stethoscope on her abdomen. His heart raced faster and faster. He listened. He thought he heard something. He moved his stethoscope. He heard something, but he could not tell for sure what it was. He felt every inch of Shelagh's lower abdomen. There was something, he was sure. Or was it his imagination? Was he so desperate for it to be true that he was imagining it? He needed another opinion.
"I'm phoning Nonnatus House." he said, heading out of the bedroom door.
"Patrick, tell me what's happening, right now." Shelagh pleaded. She looked frightened and confused. She had not twigged at all.
"I need a midwife's opinion," he said, his voice trailing off when he saw the look on Shelagh's face.
"Stop it" she whimpered, trying to force back tears, "That's not funny, you know I can't be…"
"I know that it would be unlikely, but not impossible," Patrick said, moving to the bed to gently consol his wife, "I need an expert's opinion." He kissed her cheek and held her tight. She clung onto him. They were both shaking now, Patrick with excitement, Shelagh with fear.
"But I would have noticed…" she insisted.
"Not necessarily, you have been incredibly busy, your cycles have been erratic and not everyone gets first trimester symptoms, do they?"
He felt her shake her head against his chest.
"Please, let me phone them."
She let him go, and he ran downstairs to the telephone as fast as he could, jumping the last three steps. He dialled 459 and tried to calm his breathing whilst he waited for an answer.
"Nonnatus House, midwife speaking" came Cynthia's gentle voice at the end of the telephone.
"Cynthia, thank goodness," Patrick gasped, he had been dreading hearing Trixie or Sister Evangelina's voice, he composed himself. "It's Patrick Turner, I need, I think, will you come and examine Shelagh, and bring Sister Julienne if she's there."
"She's here. Is Shelagh alright?" Cynthia inquired.
"I hope so," Patrick said "But I would appreciate your expert opinion, but don't say anything to anyone, yet."
Cynthia understood. "We'll be there as soon as possible."
"Thank you Cynthia."
He put the phone down and sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. What if he was right? This would be the perfect start to the year. All their dreams would come true. But what if he was wrong? He would have built Shelagh's hopes up and then cruelly dashed them again. He did not think he could live with that guilt.
"God, if you are out there," he murmured, "Please may I be right."
His peaceful moment was shattered by Timothy shouting "Bye" and running out the door to school. When he had closed the door behind him, Patrick ran back upstairs to Shelagh. She was dressed in her slacks and sat on their bed. He sat next to her.
"Sister Julienne and Cynthia are on their way," he said kindly, "They'll look after you."
Shelagh did not respond, she just stared into space.
"What's happening Patrick?" she whimpered after a few minutes. "I don't understand."
"Don't worry, everything will become clear, it'll be alright."
The doorbell rang a moment later.
"That will be them" Patrick said. "I love you so much."
"I love you too Patrick," she replied, desperately trying to smile through her fear.
Patrick opened the front door and saw the worried faces of Cynthia and Sister Julienne staring back at him.
"She's upstairs, in bed," he said fumbling slightly over his words. "I think something, wonderful, has happened, but I don't know for sure." His voice completely cracked.
"Stay here," Sister Julienne said, "We'll go to her."
The two women climbed up the stairs and walked into the Turner's bedroom. Shelagh looked terrified. Sister Julienne ran to her and put both arms round her shoulders. Shelagh began to cry, and shook with fear.
"It's alright, I'm here." Sister Julienne said gently.
"Are you alright with me examining you, Shelagh?" Cynthia asked, "Or would you prefer Sister Julienne too?"
"No Cynthia, I'd like you too," Shelagh sniffed. She turned to Sister Julienne. "Will you stay and hold me?"
"Of course, my dear, I would do anything for you."
Safe with her mother by her side, Shelagh relaxed enough to allow Cynthia to examine her, closing her eyes so she did not have to watch her friend at work.
"Shelagh" Cynthia said after a few minutes. "When was your last period?"
"Beginning of September," Shelagh responded.
"Well, by my reckoning, you are about four and a half months pregnant, so that is about right, congratulations, sweetie."
Cynthia came round to hug Shelagh, but before she got there, Sister Julienne had completely smothered her.
"Oh Shelagh" Sister Julienne wept, "Congratulations!" She stood up to allow Cynthia to hug her. Shelagh sat bolt upright, stunned.
"A baby? A real baby? My baby? Am I really pregnant?" she stammered.
"Quite definitely" Cynthia said, letting her go. "Due sometime towards the middle of June I'd say."
Shelagh burst into tears. "Patrick…" she started between sobs.
"We'll get him" Sister Julienne said, beckoning to Cynthia. Cynthia picked up her instruments, winked at Shelagh and then followed Sister Julienne out of the bedroom door.
"Well…" Patrick said as he saw Cynthia and Sister Julienne appear at the bottom of the stairs.
"Go and talk to her." Sister Julienne said as neutrally as she could manage.
Patrick sprinted past the two of them, taking the stairs three at a time. He composed himself before walking into the room. He saw the tears running down his wife's face.
"Oh no," he gasped "I'm so sorry."
"Patrick, shush." she said. He looked taken aback and confused. Shelagh continued "We are going to be parents, parents together." She took his hand, and placed it on her abdomen. "These are tears of joy. You were right sweetheart. I didn't think it could possibly happen. But it has. It will."
Patrick's face lit up, fifteen years seemed to melt off his careworn brow. "Really, when?"
"The middle of June, Cynthia thinks." And with that, she burst into tears again and hugged him.
Cynthia and Sister Julienne poked their heads round the door. On seeing them, Patrick ran to the door, picked Cynthia up, and spun her round the room before planting a kiss on her cheek, and dropping her rather unceremoniously. He then turned to Sister Julienne, paused, before deciding that just a hug was a more appropriate gesture.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Patrick said, skipping round the bedroom.
The three women grinned at him; he looked like an excitable puppy.
"Does anyone want a drink?" he asked gleefully.
"Patrick, it's only 9:30!" Shelagh said.
"I don't care, it's not often you find out that you are going to be a father!"
"No thank you, we have rounds to do." Cynthia replied.
"Yes, sorry" Patrick said, composing himself. "I better let you go."
"Cynthia" Shelagh called, "Will you be my midwife?"
"I would be honoured," Cynthia replied.
Patrick let Cynthia and Sister Julienne out, and then ran back upstairs, jumped on the bed, and showered his wife's body and her stomach in particular in kisses.
"It's going to be a wonderful year," he said.
"The fun is just beginning" Shelagh replied, stroking her stomach with one hand and Patrick's face with the other.