Good evening fan ficers of the UK, Euprope, Earth and beyond!

Welcome into the world Chapter 3, some momentary tension and a little development for Turnadette! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews – it means so much to me!

Hope you enjoy, and please review

We're on a road to nowhere, come on inside, takin' that ride to nowhere, we'll take that ride. I'm feelin' okay this mornin', and you know, we're on the road to paradise, here we go … "Here we go …" Stopping before she hit the chorus, Shelagh surveyed the half-finished jobs that filled her flat. There was a chocolate sponge cooling on the counter waiting to be iced, a pile of washing that she was in the middle of sorting through, and her laptop was open where she was trying, in vein, to compose an email to her Father back home explaining why she didn't have time to come home to meet her newly born nephew.

Throwing down the pile of folded t-shirts onto the sofa, she went back to the cake to see if it was cool enough yet, having decided that it was - she picked up the bowl of chocolate buttercream and began to spread it as evenly as she could with a kitchen knife. It was times like this that she thought, not for the first time, that she could really use a better variety of kitchen utensils. The cake was for Tim, it had been sweet of Patrick to invite her round for his son's birthday tea, although he had insisted that it was all Tim's idea. He was a nice man she reflected, nice and kind and funny – and there weren't that many men like that in the world. Jumping as she heard a knock at the door and dropping a wodge of icing on the floor as she did so, she swore under her breath and walked down the hallway, not recognising the dark shadow behind the dappled front door glass, she opened the door with caution, keeping it on the safety chain.

"Oh God Shelagh – I'm sorry but I didn't know where else to go …"

"Doctor Turner? What are you doing here? Come in!"

"Thank you – I'm sorry to come round so late, but I just couldn't think where else to go. Have you seen Tim? He's gone!"

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"I mean I went to his bed room, just to check on him and he was gone -" He stepped on, into the kitchen slowly, looking distractedly about him, "- oh God, Shelagh I'm sorry, you're clearly busy I shouldn't have come. I just didn't know where else to go …"

"It's fine, Patrick – I promise, it's fine! Sit down and tell me everything – here have some water."

"Thank you." he took a deep break and took a sip of water before carrying on. "Tim went to bed at about 9, and I was downstairs in the kitchen … I didn't hear anything, but I had the radio on so I suppose I might not have heard him come downstairs … and then about ½ an hour ago I went to go to bed, and I could see his bedroom lamp was still on … so I went in to switch it off and his bed was empty. Should I have called the police do you think? I just didn't know what to do … and I know that you two talk and I just … I don't know I just thought you might be able to help. I've already lost Clair – I can't lose him as well, he thinks he's so streetwise but he's only 9 Shelagh and I'm scared …" Shelagh watched him as he shoulders slumped and the tears started to fall, gingerly she extended an arm, and covered his hand with her own, before standing up off the kitchen stool and nervously but impulsively drawing him in for a hug. She felt his arms around her back and his fingers digging in as he gripped her jumper in desperation,

"Right, first things first – where might he go? Do you two have any special places you go? Any friends he has that he might go to?" she gently withdrew from his arms, and sat back down, she watched the doctor dry his eyes on his sleeve before he continued.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like this. Umm – no, I mean he has friends in school that he sees, but I know all their parents, they'd telephone me if Tim turned up on their doorstep at eleven at night … we don't really have special places for the two of us – we go the park and things, but they're not really special places for us you know."

"What … what about places he used to go to Clair? Was there anywhere she used to take him?"

"No, I don't think so – we went places as a family, but nowhere … Shoreditch?"

"Shorditch?"

"He could … but why would he? Clair used to take him to Shoreditch station when we was little, because he loved the trains … it's where we met, she used to take him there when he couldn't sleep and tell him about how we met … but then they closed the station years ago, 7 or 8 years ago … he wouldn't have gone there would he? Would he?"

"Well, it's a start. Let's go and look – do you want me to come?"

"Would you? I'd be grateful – I might lose my mind if I'm on my own … thank you."

Patrick Turner passed a cup of tea across to Shelagh, he smile gratefully at her – she really was spectacular, giving up her night to drive around Stratford hunting for his son, the son of a colleague – someone she barely knew. She was so calm, knowing what to do in a crisis as he had panicked … she was beautiful. He coughed up a mouthful of tea that had entered his windpipe as that thought had cropped into his head.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, possibly just too tired to do swallowing … which is a pity because I really want some tea … sorry I'm babbling, I'm just so relived we found him."

"It's ok, I'm sure I'll forgive you, will he be alright do you think?"

"I imagine so, I know why he went – but I just wish he'd asked me, I'd have taken him in a heartbeat. Why do you think he didn't ask me?"

"Maybe because he knows your still mourning, and he was worried it would hurt you to go and sit at the station. Maybe."

"Maybe. Thank you Shelagh, I really can't thank you enough, you've been so … spectacular, really … spectacular!"

"Thank you, but you know that's really not necessary, I was just … doing what needed to be done you know. I should be off, it's late – thanks for the tea."

"Oh you're very welcome, I'll show you out. Well, good night Shelagh." Unsure of himself, he took a step forward and aiming for a friendly kiss on the cheek, he found himself drawn to her lips accidentally, regretting the kiss the moment they had separated she swallowed hard and stared at the ground. "I'm sorry – that was totally inappropriate …"

Reeling from the kiss, Shelagh took a step backwards and turned into the cool night air, she licked her lips slowly, feeling the place he had previously occupied with his own lips.

"It's fine, inappropriate is a strong word …"

"It was wrong of me, I've embarrassed you – I'm sorry."

"You haven't embarrassed me Patrick … but, you've had a stressful night – and I think you're still grieving over Clair. I'm not turning my back on you because of you, but because time is a funny thing. Good night Patrick."

"'Ey, wam, how's your day goin'? You look beat!"

"Hi, oh I'm fine, tired that's all."

"Ooo – you bin up to no good?"

"Nothing so exciting. Can I ask you something Trixie?"

"Of course baby girl."

"If there was someone that you liked, but they were … still in love with someone else, even if they liked you too. What would you do?"

"In love with someone else how?"

"I don't know, someone … they'd split up with … or something."

"Hmmm – tricky one my love, there aint no easy answer for that you know. If it were me, I'd leave it."

"Even if you thought it would make you both happy?"

"If I had a fella in love with some other girl, even if he were crazy for me he'd still be in love with girl, you know? It'd all be grand, and then it'd all you south! After joy is sorrow as my Mama used to say. Why'd ya ask, you having heart troubles?"

"No no – I just wondered … something I was thinking about."

"Well don't you be thinking too hard now, or you'll be in trouble. I gotta go check on my lady, I gotta feeling she's gonna be a quick un!"

"Julie, can I have a word?"

"Yes, come in – here, what do you think I should do with my hair for Sarah's wedding - mother of the brides are meant to look smart, but I just seem to be achieving matronly."

"I don't know, maybe ask Trixie? She's better at that sort of stuff than me."

"Mmm – maybe, I just want to do Sarah proud. Look nice for the wedding next week."

"I'm sure you will … Julie I want to talk to you -" Interrupted by the telephone on Julie's desk ringing the two women paused and glanced at the offending object, wearily Julie glanced down at the caller ID, before raising a finger apologetically to her friend.

"Hold that thought – I need to answer this one … It's from the a social worker I'm dealing with on one of my under 16s … just a tick! … Mandy, hi – yes it's Julie … I'm actually right in the middle of … oh … right … yep … yep … no, yes of course … and she's … yep … OK … right. Oh dear, well I'll bear that in mind. Right, yes well thanks for ringing Mandy, bye now."

"Something bad?"

"No no, just … awkward. Sorry Shelagh – I need to go and deal with this, I'll speak to you later ok, you are alright aren't you? There's nothing seriously wrong is there?"

"No, it's just something on my mind."

"Don't worry – you're a star, I'm sure whatever it is you'll be ok, just keep on being your wonderful self!"

"Hi Julie?"

"Hi Shelagh, sorry to ring you so late, I hope I didn't wake you?"

"No no, I was just having a shower, what can I do for you?"

"I was just checking my diary, and I've realised that next Monday I'm double booked. It's Sarah's wedding and I'm meant to be going to this staffing meeting at the NHS ELC, with Dr Turner. I'd ask one of the other Sisters but I think you'd be perfect for it. I mean you know as well as I do all the staffing issues we're having – half my bloody budget's going on bank nurses at the moment! Please say yes Shelagh, other whys it'll have to be Sister Evangelina and I'm not sure she's got the diplomacy to pull this off!"

"… Of course I will, I'd be glad to."

"Shelagh, you are an angel - I'll make sure you get some cake back from the wedding!"

"Alright then, goodnight."

"Night-night" With a sigh, Shelagh put the handset back in the cradle and walked across the bedroom to find a pair of clean pyjamas. Having finally located a vest and pair of shorts she made her way through into the lounge, collecting a mug of tea on the way. Sighing she flopped down on the sofa and began channel hopping vaguely between a bad 70's sitcom and the news. Hearing a mewling noise she looked over to the window, the cat was sat on the windowsill between a photograph of Shelagh holding her niece in Duthie park winter garden back home, and a battered tobacco tin of her fathers.

"What are you looking at Bernadette?" She asked the cat, who was watching the night intently from the 10th floor of Shelagh's high rise flat. Every night the cat would sit on the windowsill and watch the estate below, she never knew what Bernadette was looking at – the mishmash of young families and elderly residents that made up the residents couldn't be that interesting. A long time ago someone had told her that the estate was built on tenement blocks that had been demolished in the early 60's, they may have been overcrowded and filthy – but Shelagh wasn't sure that her concrete block that reached up into the heavens was any better.

She was lucky, when people heard she lived on an east London council estate the assumed she lived in a black pit of gang violence and drug dealing – when in reality it was a small quiet estate with her friends, and her adopted English family of neighbours. Hearing her voice, Bernadette turned around and leapt gently onto the sofa, padding her way over to Shelagh's lap – the cat stepped onto her owners legs and curled up into a loose ball, her tail flickering against her owners stomach.

"What am I going to do eh? He's lovely … but that doesn't really change anything does it? He still loves her, more than he's ever going to love me – or anyone else. Oh dear, I'm getting maudlin, shall we go to bed? Unless you were watching this? No - you've got better taste than that don't you … come on. Time for bed!"