Thanks once again for keeping me going with your wonderful comments :) sorry it took a bit of time to post this chapter - I so wanted to get it right. I've given them the wedding of me dreams... I hope you like it ;) Please do post suggestions for future chapters, if you want to see more.
Doctor Turner stood in a fever of anticipation amid a sea of enraptured familiar faces. To say that the tiny chapel had been made to look beautiful would be an understatement. With the winter darkness in full force outside, the interior was quite dark, but hundreds of white candles glimmered at all levels around the room amid wreaths of glossy holly, spangled with crimson berries. The effect was truly magical; it felt as if heaven itself might be something like this, and the doctor was certainly in a very special personal paradise. As he smiled nervously at everyone who caught his eye, he saw image after image of the times he and Shelagh had spent together, flicking through his head in glorious technicolour: the shared cigarettes, the time when they had taken on the board of health, and won, the look in her eyes as he had checked her breathing after the x-ray and had heard her heart drumming as painfully fast as his own.
Shelagh was waiting in the corridor, subtly doing deep breathing exercises to try to calm her fluttering heart. She was about to give her whole self up to one man, having lived the last ten years of her life married to God. She knew exactly how to live her life in religious devotion - she could pray, sing and do selfless deeds in her sleep - such worship was ingrained in her being after all these years. She was nervous about her abilities when it came to fulfilling God's new plan for her. She had no experience to help her when it came to the worship realised through being a wife and mother, and to do this well was her biggest wish in the world. Her pre-wedding jitters were fuelled by the hyperactive mood of Jenny, Trixie, Jane and Chummy, who were fussing around her, adjusting and readjusting her dress, and generally acting like excited little girls who were to be bridesmaids for the first time.
It was freezing cold in the corridor, and Trixie was beginning to flap that her nose would go red. "I suppose it would match the holly berries, but that's no consolation." As she spoke, she patted her hair and pricked herself on the small sprig of holly that nestled into her curls, one of Sister Monica Joan's unconventional touches, sweet, but rather uncomfortable. The girls were decked out in angelic snow white dresses that were more aesthetic than practical in the sub zero temperature. Unsurprisingly though, it was Shelagh who stole the day in her ever humble and unassuming way. As the chapel doors finally opened, and she stood framed in the doorway with dust particles dancing around her in the candlelight, she looked more like an angel from heaven than anyone present had thought any mortal could.
Her burnished tresses had been twisted round her head in a sort of wreath, with white-berried mistletoe woven in. Her skirt, which was of ivory rayon (cheaply obtained from the market by Fred, with no questions asked), draped elegantly as she walked steadily down the aisle. This time, in her simple satin heels she felt not in the least bit unstable; she had been practising after dark along the corridors of Nonnatus, and anyway, just one smile from her entranced doctor put all nerves from her mind. "You look divine," he breathed as she reached him at the altar. Divine was certainly the word. As they knelt under the snow-speckled window, fingers entwined, Patrick thought he'd come as near to experiencing God as he ever had. Shelagh couldn't believe that not so long ago she had been kneeling at this very rail, crying her eyes out before her Lord, seeking guidance that seemed not to come.
The ceremony went without a glitch, and when it came to "you have declared your commitment to each other before this congregation and before God. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," something made Shelagh glance upwards. Someone had hung some mistletoe concealed high in the rafters. Patrick followed her gaze, and the pair shared a private laugh. Only Trixie knew what was going on - she caught the doctor's eye and gave him a delighted wink. Patrick put his hands each side of his bride's neck and leant down to place a kiss on her lips. She leant in at his touch, then they broke apart, foreheads still touching, grins plastered on both their faces. Everyone else was grinning too; the adoration that radiated from the couple touched every heart in the room, even Sister Evangelina's. She gave Patrick a slow approving nod as he walked out of the chapel. The only other approval that meant more to him was Timothy's. And the little boy was cheering louder than anyone. When the couple passed by his seat, he rushed out and flung his arms around Shelagh's waist, nearly knocking her backwards. She hugged him back as best as she could while holding her trailing bouquet and Patrick's hand at the same time. "Hello mum," Timothy said.
"Hello son," she replied, the words catching in her throat.
In the entrance hall of Nonnatus, Fred and his scouts had a system going to get all the guests their coats, then everyone trailed outside into the snow, headed by the new Mr and Mrs Turner. Shelagh was once again carrying her shoes; she had donned boots for the trek to the church hall for the reception, as had the bridesmaids, who were teasing each other profusely. Snowflakes swirled in the air and settled in Shelagh's hair and eyelashes. "You look beautiful in the snow," Patrick laughed, wrapping his arms around his wife, who was shivering slightly. "You do realise that with mistletoe in your hair I'm going to have to kiss you all the time."
Shelagh grinned, her breath turning to crystals in the air. "That was Trixie's idea - I knew there'd be a motive, and I think you've found it."
Patrick dropped a kiss on her hairline, and another into her hair. "Careful," she chuckled. "Mistletoe is poisonous I believe."
"There's only one thing for it then," he whispered, and turned instead to kissing her firmly on the mouth.
"Come on you lovebirds! We're all freezing to death, there's plenty of time for that sort of thing later!" came a shout. The couple had been so blissfully absorbed in each other that they had forgotten the rest of the party behind them. They were still not totally used to private intimacy, let alone public - they blushed and shuffled their feet.
"Yes, go on Shelagh, throw your bouquet!" stepped in Cynthia, quickly.
"I can't, it's got holly in it," came the reply. "It's lethal!" The crafty Sister Monica Joan chuckled impishly.
"We've all got gloves on, it'll be fine, go on."
Patrick gazed dotingly at his wife, who gave a radiant smile as she threw the bouquet over her head. It soared through the snow and landed amid squeals of excitement as the party jostled to discover the identity of the lucky recipient...
Please review if you have the time :) ps - any thoughts as to who the recipient should be?!