As the months went on, Shelagh completely relaxed into her new role of wife and mother, finding unending joy in the simplest tasks of caring and providing for her small family, tasks that the majority of women would take for granted. She saw every job as an opportunity to lavish love upon her husband and stepson, who in turn did everything they could to make Shelagh feel at home. Every afternoon she would pick Timothy up from school on her way back from Nonnatus. The young boy would meet her at the gates with the brightest of smiles and would never fail to throw his arms around her waist in an excited hug before setting off on a gabbled account of what he had been doing in his classes that day. Shelagh, with her attentive and quiet disposition, proved the most attractive of listeners to the enthusiastic schoolboy; his father was so rarely free to take an interest in his lessons, no matter how much he wanted to, and of course was immeasurably glad that his son had taken such a shine to his new mother - it could have been such a different story.

"Hello Timothy," Shelagh called brightly as she approached the school gates one particularly humid afternoon.

"Hello mum," the little boy replied, burying his face in her cardigan as soon as she got to him. He was rather floppy and his head leant heavily against her chest. With the utmost concern, Shelagh prized him away and examined his face. His skin was ghostly white and his eyes flickered out of dull purplish hollows. His forehead was clammy when she put her palm against it.

"Timothy, you poor thing, whatever's the matter?"

"I was sick at lunchtime, so they put me in the medical room. I think I've eaten something strange."

"Why didn't you get the teachers to call for me at Nonnatus? I would have picked you up."

"But you've been so busy lately, I didn't want to be a bother."

"Oh Timothy," Shelagh sighed, carefully taking his hand in hers and starting the short walk back home, tears pricking in her eyes. It had been a long, tough shift at Nonnatus; a mother had haemorrhaged, the baby lost. Somehow, now she had a family of her own this sort of thing took its toll more than it used to.

When they got back to the house, she put Timothy straight to bed and called her husband at the hospital. "Doctor Turner here."

"Patrick, it's me." His face lit up as he heard the soft Scottish brogue he so cherished -

"Hello me," he laughed, but his countenance darkened as unmistakable strain crept in to her reply.

"Patrick, is there any chance you could get away just an hour or so early?"

"My love, what's wrong?" came the panicked response, "Are you alright?"

"No no, I'm fine, it's Timothy, he's got what looks to me like mild gastroenteritis or something, the school didn't send him home, and I'm supposed to be on call later on."

"Oh that bloody school-" Patrick muttered. "Is he in bed?"

"Yes, I've just left him, he's sleeping."

"Shelagh, whatever you do don't hang around where you could catch anything."

Shelagh sighed, "Patrick, I'm a nurse, if it's food poisoning it is not infectious-"

He interrupted her, with a tone so anxious and intense Shelagh found herself holding her breath. "And if it isn't? Shelagh, we cannot risk you getting ill again. You know your immune system is still weak-"

"Yes, I think I know that perfectly well," she retorted, getting a little agitated. She was only trying to care for his son, and, as a medical professional herself, being told how to manage her own health did not sit easily with her.

"Please darling," Patrick murmured, "don't get upset, I'll be there as soon as I can." She put the phone down, breathing sharply, and smoothed her eyebrows; all of a sudden she felt really quite exhausted.

When Patrick arrived forty minutes later, he found his wife sitting resolutely by Timothy's bed, reading her Bible as the little boy slept. "Shelagh," he began, tentatively, "do you really think you should be-"

She interrupted him, her manner deliberately calm and her eyes fixed firmly on her lap. "He's been sick a little about half an hour ago, but his temperature's dropping."

"Shelagh-"

"I love your son, and I can't bear to see him suffer, any more than you can. So I have been caring for him; it would be selfish to do otherwise." Her voice wobbled dangerously; she clasped her Bible to her chest and made to leave the room, but as she passed him in the doorway she suddenly found Patrick's hands catch her firmly by the waist. She met his restless gaze, and the next moment she was sobbing quietly into his jacket. "I'm sorry," she whispered when she had composed herself, "I just get so fed up with being the invalid, when all I want to do is help those who are truly suffering." She looked up to search his eyes, and was shocked to find a tear tracing a path down his weathered cheek.

"Oh Shelagh," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "You are the most wonderful, generous woman on God's earth, and I of all people had no right to patronise you. It's just the thought of you getting ill again scares me more than anything I can think of."

Shelagh kissed his cheek, stopping the tear in its tracks - the salt stung her lips, but she didn't care. "I love you," she whispered, shakily. "Whatever happens, whenever we argue, anything, just remember that. Love is the only thing that matters, when it comes down to it." Patrick smiled from the bottom of his heart, and kissed his wife on the forehead. Shelagh closed her eyes as he brought his lips to hers, and they stayed there, leaning against the doorframe, for a good few minutes, Patrick simply holding on to his wife's waist and kissing her mouth with a remarkably reverent stillness. Then, ever so gently, he prised the Bible away from her fingers, placing it carefully on top of the chest of drawers beside him, leaving her free to continue to worship in a different way, to show her devotion to the man she loved with the same passionate abandon with which she worshiped her Lord.

One of them must have inadvertently let out an audible sigh, because all of a sudden there came an appalled exclamation from a now wide-awake Timothy: "Dad! Not in my room!" The two sprang apart, and Patrick looked sheepishly at his son, straightening his tie and trying to get the feeling of Shelagh's lips tingling upon his out of his mind so he could make an assessment of his son's condition. He failed miserably, and noticed Shelagh seemed to be having a similar sort of trouble as her cheeks had flushed and she became preoccupied with polishing her glasses.

"Well you look better to me," Patrick said having briefly examined his son. "You've been well looked after."

Timothy beamed at Shelagh, who smiled back at him shyly, still leaning loitering in the doorway; she couldn't work out if it was relief at having opened up further to her husband, the giddiness she always fell victim to when he kissed her, or the tiredness of a difficult morning's work taking its toll that made her so reliant on the doorframe for support. Nevertheless, no matter how weak she might feel, she was needed on call at Nonnatus, and, retrieving her Bible, she prayed for energy.

"Now you get some proper sleep, young man, and we'll see if we can't get you to eat something later on," Patrick was saying, tucking the boy in and ruffling his hair. "We'll leave you in peace." He received a cheeky grin in response, and as he shut the door behind him he turned to his wife with a look of defeat. "That child seems to know far too much than is normal for his age."

"He's a very perceptive lad," said Shelagh, leading downstairs and smiling bashfully as Patrick held her coat out for her, always the gentleman. Patrick fixed his wife with an earnest gaze, and furrowed his brow.

"I don't know what's worse," he sighed, "being caught in the act by Sister Evangelina, or by Timothy."

"We'll just have to exercise more restraint in future," Shelagh replied, coyly. Patrick raised his eyebrows suggestively, making her giggle.

"Gosh," she sighed, "I've got a bit hysterical - too many conflicting emotions for one day."

"Off to work with you," smiled Patrick, gently herding his wife out the door. "It would seem that Timothy's had an early night, so perhaps we could start on the restraint thing tomorrow?"

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