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The new Mr and Mrs Turner were invited to Nonnatus house for supper on Christmas Eve. As soon as they arrived, Shelagh was whisked off to Trixie's room, where all the young nurses were avidly waiting. She pursed her lips and restlessly adjusted her glasses; she knew what was coming, and decided to play along. "Well then?" pouted Trixie, tugging Shelagh onto the bed, her demanding wide-open eyes framed by perfectly manicured brows.

"Well what?" came the maddening reply. Shelagh refused to look any of the girls in the eye, but was aware of a small commotion going on before her: Trixie was being ticked off by the considerate Cynthia, while modest Jenny pretended not to be in the least bit interested, when clearly she was dreadfully curious, just like the others. Trixie sighed, and crossed her arms.

"We need to know all the juicy details," she cried, giving an exasperated sigh.

"Oh do you?" responded Shelagh, rather more reproachfully than she had meant.

"Hush now Trixie," began Chummy, crossing over to stand above Shelagh at the foot of the bed, and placing a protective hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't let her bully you, old thing. I had just the same thing the day after my wedding. I'm afraid interrogation is an occupational hazard of being a blushing bride."

"And you don't have to tell us anything at all," reminded Cynthia, moderately.

"But we won't speak to you ever again if you do that!" Trixie teased, taking a long drag on her cigarette with a practised air of glamour. "And if you say a word about having been a nun, I'll personally throttle you. You're a midwife first and foremost, and so are we. So spill the beans." Shelagh's face creased into an expression of mock disapproval, and the nurses let out a sigh of relief; she had them worried for a moment that they had offended her, gone a step too far, but the new Mrs Turner's eyes had regained their captivating twinkle.

"I think I can safely say there are worse ways to spend an evening!" she said at length, blushing crimson and receiving the nurses' delighted shrieks with adorable mortification, which only spurred them on. Everyone, even the normally timid Jane, begged Shelagh to illuminate, but she buried her head in her knees and refused to comply, grinning conspiratorially to herself. "One thing I will say is that I'm surprised someone didn't realise that there was a slight fault with the design of my wedding dress." An expectant hush fell.

"What on earth do you mean?"

"There were just too many fiddly little buttons, it was all rather awkward!" This set everyone of in another fit of hysterics; Trixie failed to stop herself from squealing as inappropriate thoughts of her colleagues entered her mind.

"I'll never be able to work with Doctor Turner again," she yelped.

"Well you asked for it!" Shelagh smiled fondly at Trixie's sudden change of heart. "Honestly, you're like a bunch of silly schoolgirls, the lot of you," she exclaimed, flushed and grinning ear to ear as she tried to hush them, to no avail.

Suddenly there came a smart rap on the door, and five red faces turned to see Sister Evangelina staring back at them. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "I don't think they can quite hear you down at the docks. I can't imagine what on earth you can find to talk about that is so exciting." Trixie stifled a giggle in her pillow, and the nun cast a knowing glance at a mortified Shelagh, before announcing that dinner was served and sweeping from the room.

Sitting proudly next to his wife at the dining table, Patrick pretended not to notice the way in which the young nurses kept glancing in their direction and trying not to giggle. He caught Shelagh narrowing her eyes at them, and secretly took her hand under the table, caressing her palm with the most careful and tentative of touches. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she gave his hand a grateful squeeze. When they got home, Patrick made a bee-line to the kitchen, feeling cups of tea were definitely in order. He filled the kettle as Shelagh got the cups out, both of them feeling a secret twinge of contentment as she went straight to the right cupboard without having to think. As they settled into married life it would be the little things such as this that meant the most. "Did you manage to escape?" he laughed, sounding more than a little exhausted.

"No," she replied meekly, letting him wind his arm around her waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. He smelt of aftershave and Henleys and home. "I was dragged into Trixie's room. If I'd have been at gunpoint being asked for information I wouldn't have been more terrified."

"I hope you gave them torturously cryptic answers," he grinned, putting the kettle on the stove, his hand never straying from his wife's waist.

"Oh yes," came the reply, and Shelagh found herself blushing faintly as she suddenly realised how casually she and her doctor were talking about their first night together, chatting as easily as if spirit-lamps and sterilising equipment were the subject.

"Don't worry, I had just as hard a time of it. First Fred and Peter kept winking at me, and then I was sitting having tea with the nuns and we could hear this faint shrieking and giggling in the distance, and it was obvious what all the excitement was about." Shelagh bit her lip, resting her hands gently on his chest. Earlier on in the day she had left behind one of her fair hairs on his jumper, which she now picked off, subconsciously; she no longer had to fight the caring instincts that came to her whenever Patrick was near. The idea of her former Sisters and the speculative nurses even acknowledging the new private side of her life embarrassed her greatly. Even without the factor of her former nun's inexperience in relationships her nature lead her to shy away from introspection and personal gossip. Patrick took one look at the reserve in his wife's eyes and the flush on her cheeks and understood immediately. Shelagh felt the warmth of his hands on her arms, her shoulders, her neck, and instinct led her to close her eyes.

"I feel like they'll never get used to us living together," he continued. "I'm worried it might change things." He ran a hand through his already messy dark crop of hair - now it was Shelagh's turn to reassure; she stilled his hand, and brought it to her lips.

"We have found each other, and that is all that matters," she whispered earnestly, addressing her own anxious heart as well as his. Her breath grazed Patrick's knuckles, sending a thrill down his spine. "The awkwardness will wear off," she smiled shyly, gazing deep into his eyes. "Nothing could be more natural than two people who love each other wanting to be together and make each other happy every second of the day. You'd have to be pretty stupid to not accept that, and our friends aren't stupid."

Patrick felt a fresh wave of admiration sweep over him; the woman that stood determinedly before him, her heart and soul reaching out to him in the openness of her gaze - she was far too sensitive, too good - he could not imagine what he had done to deserve her. "You always know what to say," he smiled.

"No I don't." She shook her head. "There have been so many times when no matter how much I yearn to respond, I cannot find the words."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Patrick murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. "We can do very well with no words at all." And he kissed her, enveloping her petite frame up in his arms, gaining confidence with her every response, the whistling of the kettle as it came to boil going unnoticed behind them as they lost and found themselves once again in each other's arms.

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