Dr Turner pulled his MG up outside the old convent for the second time that day. Peter thanked him profusely for the umpteenth time that hour, for the care of his beloved wife and his precious unborn son. He went on to express his heartfelt appreciation for the doctor's support during the long wait, in what would have been a friendless hospital corridor. Patrick reassured him there wasn't any need to replace the spent cigarettes and wished him goodnight or was it good morning.
Peter headed up the never ending Nonnatus steps, more sprightly than Patrick had anticipated. Just eight hours ago he had sat in the same car, parked in the same spot. Watching someone else walk up those stairs, not quite as enthusiastically.
She had told him not to wait, but he had insisted. She turned when she had reached the top, with its imposing door and sent him a weak smile, before pulling on the bell. Patrick noticed she hadn't used her key to let herself in.
He acknowledged the relief in her face when Sister Julienne answered. Patrick wondered if the nun had been lying in wait, once she had been made aware of her sister's impending visit. She of course was, still a Sister of the Order of St Raymond Nonnatus, at least for now. He was not completely certain and she had barely tried to reassure him, that when she walked down that staircase she would simply be Shelagh.
She had informed him that it took years of preparation to finally be considered ready to make your final vows. She however was in possession of much less knowledge concerning the procedure for renouncing said vows.
"Maybe it takes as long, I may have to go to Chichester to talk with Mother Jesu Emanuel, maybe for months. I am not certain?" she had said.
He had meekly replied that however long it took, he would gladly wait and if she didn't mind, write. A mischievous giggle at that point had escaped from her lips and he realized he was being played.
She had appeared a lot less cocky when she had taken in the crestfallen expression on her superior's face.
Sister Julienne surveyed the sight of Sister Bernadette in a faded post-war skirt suit and utility shoes. The nun had washed and ironed the grey suit and blouse herself, only a matter of days before, then sent them to Woodford Green. She hadn't quite realized the impact seeing the young sister wearing those clothes, the ones she had so lovingly revitalised and repacked, would have on her heart. The change in the older woman's usually even demeanor had not been lost on her visitor, nor the onlooker in the car.
Patrick checked his watch, half-past four. It felt like he had been sat there an eternity.
He said he would wait, Timothy had been given money for a pie, covertly out of Shelagh's view. He had been told to finish his half-term homework, so as not to spoil the weekend. Patrick had informed Dr Enys that a family matter had arisen and he had agreed to cover his urgent calls. Non-urgent matters would be mopped up tomorrow and the beginning of next week.
Everything was in order apart from this unknown situation, of how long it takes to cease being a nun. Shelagh needed clothes, a coat was essential, the clocks were going back this weekend, there was definitely a nip in the air.
He had been quite taken aback at how little preparation she had actually made for returning to Poplar. It was so unlike her. She didn't seem to have a plan. She had managed to inform him, between Timothy's incessant questions, that she had indeed meant to go to the Mother House as intended.
It wasn't until she had finished her final bath at St Anne's sanatorium, she had become completely certain, she couldn't put on her religious garments. They had laid idle in the wardrobe for three months. Seeing herself in the mirror for the first time dressed in her old clothes and bathed in the light of dawn, reinforced in her the need to return home. For the first time in months, she knew her own mind, she also knew for certain where home was.
Following receiving the information that Fred would be delayed in collecting her. Due to the impending arrival of his second grandchild, she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She had asked to use the patient telephone, for only the second time in her long stay.
Outside Nonnatus, Patrick was getting fidgety, he got out the car and paced a little. Lit another cigarette. It was late afternoon, the nights were drawing in, it would soon be dark. There was nothing arranged for her shelter. He had suggested that Sister Julienne would probably insist she stay in her old room, for at least one night. Shelagh had changed the subject swiftly and he hadn't pressed any further.
He wondered if he could ask Mrs Penny, Marianne's old friend. She acted as a sort of housekeeper, babysitter and all round good egg, in times of need. She had a spare room, maybe she would put her up for one night? Just until they could sort out something more suitable tomorrow.
It depended on how long she was going to be. He could hardly turn up after dark at a close friend of his late wife, with Sister Bernadette; in as Timothy had pointed out, the wrong clothes, a sentiment Patrick didn't share with his son. He surmised she would also be tired and emotional after her appointment with Sister Julienne. He imagined trying to explain to their loyal retainer, without giving himself completely away, his concern for this vunerable young woman's welfare and comfort.
He thought he should be used to waiting. He mused how could this possibly be more unbearable, than the three months he had just endured without any contact at all. The answer was simple, he now had more than just a fragile hope. He had expectation and it was unbearable. Patrick impatiently looked at his watch again, twenty-five to five. A deep hollow chuckle escaped from Dr Turner's lungs into the emerging twilight.
Shelagh, because that was her name now, sat in the chapel of Nonnatus. She had took her favourite place to the left at the front, near the altar. She had told Sister Julienne she hadn't time, when the obviously perturbed sister had offered her the comfort of her old place of solace. She had told her she had so many things to do and she did. Doctor Turner would be in his car waiting for her. He would be anxious by now, she wondered how many Henleys he had gotten through, trying to ease his nerves. She allowed herself a slight smile at that thought.
It was only when she had walked through the chapel. Hoping to leave by one of the less used Nonnatus exits, that she hesitated and decided to take a few moments in the house of prayer. So many prayers she had said within these walls. Mostly for others, their well being, their hopes and their dreams. Prior to her removal to St. Anne's the prayers had become more personal. She had continued to pray for world peace, but also for her own peace of mind. For divine love, but also for the love in her own heart; which she could barely name, let alone comprehend.
As she sat, her hands wrung together as they did independent of will, when she struggled to connect her thoughts. She contemplated; was this the journey she had been on all along. Had she known that one day that road would finally close for her and a new path would open up before her. The only trouble was the old road had been clear, well trod and familiar. She had known where she was headed. This road was clouded in mist, the destination was unclear, there were a lack of signposts. She was much less sure of her footing on this path.
As she sat in silence, she was aware once again of the truth she had realized in her recent confinement. Both roads had the same guide, the one she had trusted for as long as she could remember. Through her childhood, her mother's death, her move to London, her chosen vocation and her life of devotion. She had never doubted Him before, she would not start now. Even though His voice was less discernible to her now, the love in her heart was still as steadfast. He knew her by name, even if it was no longer Bernadette.
Shelagh's silent contemplation was abruptly disturbed by the sound of voices outside the chapel. She heard Jane's voice louder than her usual timid range. She was calling for Sister Julienne. Something was wrong. Shelagh had been asked when she arrived to forgive all the commotion at Nonnatus, Chummy had gone into labour. Shelagh had been glad of the distraction, she had managed to enter without detection and she thought her exit would be similar.
She didn't think twice, instinct and years of training moved her from her secret hideaway, towards the distressed orderly and the nun.
"Can I be of any help to you, Sister?"
Sister Julienne spun round at the request. Shelagh thought she didn't look completely surprised to find her still in the building. She was informed that Chummy had started to haemorrhage. Jane continued not phased for one moment by her friends change in appearance. The emergency obstetric flying squad was being sent for, but they hadn't been able to locate Dr Turner.
Shelagh took a deep breath at this moment and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Apparently no-one had seen him since this morning, when he left the maternity home with Timothy, in quite the hurry. Shelagh's mouth was dry, she tried to speak, but nothing was audible. Sister Julienne turned to her.
"You will be of great help to us, if you could ascertain Dr Turner's whereabouts and prevail upon him to attend Mrs Noakes at once...my friend."
There was something in the sisters demeanour that reassured Shelagh she need not reply or disclose any unspoken knowledge. Shelagh turned on her heels and made for the main exit, the one a few minutes ago, she had tried to avoid. Within seconds she was through the door and hurtling down the convent steps, two at a time.
Patrick was rewinding his watch, fearful it had stopped. He saw her at once and took the cigarette from between his lips and threw it carelessly on the ground, as he ran towards her. He thought she might be upset, but he never expected this much panic and anxiety.
He met her a few steps up, "What's wrong my love? What happened?"
She flinched as the unfamiliar endearment didn't go unnoticed, even at this moment. Coinciding with the foreign feel of his hands on her arms, as he tried to steady her.
"I am fine, it's Chummy, you are needed inside," came the breathless reply.
Patrick let go or her and headed straight up the steps. Shelagh took a large intake of breath. She had played her part, she would stay at the bottom of the staircase and wait for the ambulance. She would have the knowledge she helped in some small way, without causing unnecessary distraction by her unexpected presence and changed appearance.
Patrick turned as he pushed open the heavy door, without a second thought with his mind already fixed on his patient, he shouted down to her,
"Sorry Nurse, I need my bag!" he nodded towards the car, with that he vanished through the convent door and Shelagh's heart missed a beat.