Dr Turner washed his hands and rolled his shirt sleeves down along his still damp forearms. Jane who was desperate to be of use, was taking care of replenishing his bag. He heard a rustle of skirt behind him, he turned quickly, no of course it wouldn't be her, not now. Sister Julienne was staring straight at him, his mouth went dry, he was sure she was reading his mind.
He had no idea how much Shelagh had told the sister, they hadn't discussed it in the car with Timothy in tow. The conversation had been about clothes and lodgings. They had talked about practicalities and the most common causes of death in insects. Not what mattered. He thought there would be time later. Now it was later and he hadn't a clue what had passed between Shelagh and the sister.
He had left her upstairs as he accompanied his patient to the ambulance. Where was she? Why wasn't she down by now? Maybe she had been offered accommodation here and she was in her room.
He suddenly remembered one of her suitcases was in his car. She had taken one in with her, returning her habit. The other with her few personal possessions was still in the boot of his car.
Why won't this damn button fasten? He pulled at his cuff impatiently. Where the hell is she?
Sister Julienne remained silent. Patrick turned back towards the sink to avoid her gaze, still fiddling with his cuff. Another rustle, he again instinctively turned round.
How long have I been doing that? She had been absent for three months, but he was still jumping at the sound of a habit. Sister Evangelina marched into the clinical room. The recently arrived nun's eyes darted around the room, like a cat watching an unsuspecting mouse.
More silence, more staring, more fiddling with the confounded button.
The tension was broken by Nurse Miller, wanting to know who wanted tea.
The residents of course all did, but did Dr Turner?
Why was, "Would you care to take tea with us?" the hardest question he had ever had to answer.
He didn't want to take tea, but if he didn't, he had no reason to stay, he would have no way of finding out what had happened to her.
He realized that four sets of eyes were now on him, waiting for a simple answer to a simple question.
Dr Turner had been kind to Cynthia earlier that day and somewhere in the universe it was decreed that he should be rewarded. Without thinking the young nurse asked, "Oh and Sister Bernadette, will she be staying?"
Patrick could have kissed her, but since he hadn't kissed Shelagh yet, this was probably not the correct course of action.
Sister Julienne answered Cynthia's question as if Dr Turner had asked it, looking directly at him.
Shelagh she corrected had needed to change her clothes and she was currently with Nurse Franklin, she believed.
Cynthia nodded. Sister Evangelina huffed loudly as if been asked to exhale for a peak-flow reading. The cat was beginning to wonder if she had her mouse trapped.
Patrick didn't notice, he was still struggling with his button, but less energetically. He was rolling it around between his thumb and index finger absently.
Why was she getting changed? He knew she hadn't been happy with the grey suit, even though he thought she looked lovely in it. But she was going to buy new clothes, he said he would give her money, but she insisted she thought she would have enough. Maybe she didn't? Maybe that's why she is with Nurse Franklin. Why won't she let me help her? Why is she trying to do this on her own? Why had she gone to Trixie?
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he stopped fiddling with his button. She had come in with one suitcase, the case containing everything that belonged to Nonnatus.
Walking in on Chummy's emergency, being thrown in the deep end after three months of rest and treatment. She is still sick, still on medication.
What If it has all been too much for her?
What has happened between her and Sister Julienne?
Does she feel differently now back at Nonnatus, back home?
What if there did come that familiar rustle of thick wool on wool?
What if she came down dressed differently?
What if she had re-opened that suitcase?
Patrick's mind was starting to unravel, like the thread around the tiny button on his shirt sleeve.
Cynthia meanwhile was still wondering who was having tea. Jane sensitive to atmospheres was starting to breathe more heavily. The cat meanwhile, looked ready to pounce on that unsuspecting mouse at any moment.
Jenny entered wondering what was taking Cynthia so long, as the kettle had already boiled.
"So that's six of us and Sister Monica Joan. What about Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette?" she asked.
The cat pounced.
"Yes, what about Dr Turner and Sister Bernadette?" spat Sister Evangelina.
The mouse who had been lost in his own personally constructed nightmare, suddenly sensed real danger.
Sister Julienne finally spoke.
"Forgive us Dr Turner, we are all I am afraid a little on edge this evening. You see here at Nonnatus, we take the welfare of our young women very seriously. When one of our family is taken from us, into the care of another, however capable. We may be at fault, but we find we can't help but be concerned. We cherish our young women, they are precious to us. Do you understand me, Doctor?"
The doctor nodded, the whole room was transfixed on the conversation between Sister Julienne and Dr Turner. The two conversationalists were now completely unaware of anyone else.
"I perfectly understand Sister, your concern does you credit. All I can offer is my reassurance, that anything so precious will only be treated with the utmost care and respect. All that is asked of me shall be given. I assure you that life is cherished not only within these walls. All anyone desires in the end is healing and the promise of a happy tomorrow. I think on that we can both agree."
Sister Julienne did not smile but she nodded towards the doctor.
Jenny and Cynthia looked at each other bemused. "Are we still talking about Chummy?" Jenny hissed, a rare stern look from Jane hushed her.
Sister Evangelina had her arms folded under her breasts and looked ready to devour the mouse. Trixie arrived at the entrance looking tired, but pleased with herself, her eyes were shining. Behind her stood a very pale Shelagh. To Patrick's relief in a rather pretty red floral sundress and matching cardigan, she would have looked stunning, if she hadn't looked so uncomfortable.
Shelagh's porcelain complexion gradually turned to crimson. For the second time that day she felt that all eyes were on her as she entered a room. Strange, in a house where not long ago she had felt as if doors were starting to close before her and she had felt invisible. One pair of eyes was not taking in the vision of the former nun in a pretty dress, but rather focused on the dress itself.
The sight of the coral calf length floral dress with the wide panel at the base, brought memories flooding back to the young woman assisting the doctor repack his bag. The shouts of the Teddy Boys, Mr Roberts drunken taunts, the unmistakable sickening sound of violence. She remembered running even though her breathing was failing her and her legs felt as heavy as the mooring stumps in the Thames. She remembered hiding in her room, curled up in a tight embryonic ball on her bed. Trixie's pretty dress stained with tears and sweat.
This terrifying memory had been soothed by the kindest of voices. It had also soothed Dougie Roberts wounds. As she had lain on her bed that night, his voice had reached through to her. It had overcome all the shouting and screaming in her head, to soothe her. So much so, that she had been able to get out of bed the following morning and brave any well meant frivolous interrogations, just so she could once again hear that same soothing voice for real. She remembered thinking, she had Sister Bernadette to thank, for the curious lack of curiosity from the other midwives, surrounding her much anticipated and talked about evening engagement the night before.
Jane coming back to the present, noticed Shelagh looked as uncomfortable as she had in that sleeveless garment, she was glad Trixie has seen sense to also offer her cardigan. She remembered feeling exposed, just as Shelagh was looking now. Jane had noticed something else, when Shelagh had been behind Trixie, before they came to the door. The frail woman had looked completely different, her face had been flushed, but not from embarrassment from something else, there had been a flicker of recognition over her face and what looked like relief. Jane turned instinctively towards Doctor Turner. The Reverend Applebee-Thornton had never seen Jane in that particular dress, but he had looked at Jane as the doctor was now looking at Shelagh. It wasn't the first time she had seen him look that way, or her.
It is often said that if someone lacks or is deficient in a certain sense, if possible the other 4 overcompensate. In Jane's case her reluctance to converse and socialize seemed only to have heightened her awareness of her surroundings and the events that occurred within them. Jane knew she wouldn't be the only one to pick up the frisson between the two. She grabbed the first thing at hand in attempt to reluctantly break the enchanting spell that had been cast between them. The orderly turned quickly and enquired,
"Where would you like me to put this Doctor Turner?" Thrusting a rectal thermometer in his face.
It was Jane's turn to now change colour as Dr Turner pointed at his bag. It had been awkward for a moment, but she felt she had played her part in trying to help ease the tension, that was beginning to build up both inside and around her.
Jenny who had just about had enough, "So tea, everyone?"
Patrick now awkwardly, went to twist the gold band he had worn on his left hand for over 12 years, but was no longer there. As Shelagh did the same on her right hand. A coincidence that was not lost on Sister Evangelina. The cat finally had her prey cornered.
Shelagh glared at Patrick, they were both desperate to leave. Shelagh finally spoke, a thin voice not reminiscent at all of her usually jovial Scottish brogue.
"No tea for me, Nurse thank you. I have so many things to do," Still glaring at Patrick. He got the hint.
"Can I offer you a lift? Miss...Miss erm?" Patrick faltered. What was her damn name?
Everyone except Trixie and Jane, had heard him call her Shelagh in the situation upstairs and now he was at a loss for her surname.
The cat now had her mouse by the tail.
"Mannion! Dr Turner, Miss Mannion. I think is the name you're looking for," Sister Evangelina's practically growled, rather than purred.
Patrick wasn't going to surrender that easily, if nothing else he was blessed with a patient temperament,
"Can I drop you somewhere, Nurse Mannion?" He corrected the sister. Nurse Mannion nodded.
Sister Evangelina grunted, but couldn't argue after the events of the day and the composure that had been shown in treating Chummy. She skulked out of the clinical room.
"So that's just seven for tea then?" Jenny sighed.
Sister Julienne ushered everyone out of the clinical room including Trixie, reluctant to give up her charge. Nurse Mannion moved toward Dr Turner reached for his left hand with both of hers and fastened the button on his shirt cuff.