First off – a massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed the last chapter. I check my emails on my dinner break at 3am on my night shifts, and every single one makes me so so happy! I'm back on days now so with any luck your updates will be a little more frequent because my body clock won't be quite so fried!
This chapter's song is:
Lana Del Ray – Young and Beautiful
Enjoy! x
"Oh my God – Congratulations!" Jenny threw her arms around Shelagh and embraced her tightly, pulling away slightly she beamed, her joy showing through every pore in her skin. "Is there a ring, lets have a look!"
"I can't wear it for work, it's at home."
"Oh that's no fun! Text me a picture of it tonight yeah – I want to see the rock!"
"You might be a little disappointed, it's only small – I didn't want anything big."
"Shealgh, it's your engagement ring, it's meant to be traffic stopping!"
"For you maybe, for me anything would have been perfect!"
"What's all this noise?" Asked John, poking his head out of the staff room door, Fred the porter's head appearing beside his. Shelagh smiled ruefully,
"Patrick and me … we're umm … engaged!"
"Oh Shelagh darling, that's excellent news. Oh I'm so happy for you I really am!" cried John, emerging fully from the staff room, rushing over to Shelagh he drew her up into a rib crushing hug. "Oh – Dr Turner is a lucky lucky bloke. What do you think Fred?" He asked, turning toward the porter, who bent his knees slightly and sucked his teeth, like a plumber assessing a particularly expensive burst pipe.
"I think it's bloody good news, and that it won't be long before we've got a little Dr Turner running about the place – which sounds like a very good basis on which to run a book! Any offers?" He asked, pulling a small notebook from his shirt pocket. Jenny darted forward, and laid a hand on Freds forearm.
"18 months – hang on is this to give birth or get pregnant?"
"Give birth."
"18 months then I say."
"I give it a year. Oh and Fred, havn't I just had a little windfall on your last book?" Added in John, leaving Shelagh's side for a moment as Fred spooled through his little notebook.
"What was your last book on Fred, why didn't you ask me!?" Asked Shelagh,
"It was about you!" replied the trio in unison distractedly as they returned their attentions back to the notebook.
"Ahh yes look, I said that they would get engaged within six months of January, there – I'm closer than any of the others!"
"No no you're not, it's May – the fifth month, which is exactly what Sister Evangalina said."
"Hang on!" Cried Shelagh, crossing over to examine the notebook, "You're saying that: a – you're running a book on my love life, and Sister Evangalina is involved?!"
"Oh yeah – she's been quite the fan of yours and the docs … hey, you don't mind me running the book do you Shelagh? I didn't want to offend you."
"Well you could of asked! … I want in! Two years and I'll give birth."
"Blimey, you havn't got much confidence in the poor bloke have you."
"Oh sorry Fred, I didn't realised that we were in 1957 – a little of the control actually rests in my hands nowadays."
"That's my problem with female led contraception, puts my books right out of whack!"
Cohen Family Jewellers
Canon St Road, E1
Est. 1903
18c WG En-ring
1 RS diamond 1/3 C
£1200
Stood outside the back door, Patrick smoothed out the receipt with its hand written scrawl of the jeweller from his jacket pocket, and held the tip of his cigarette up against the paper until it caught light, waiting for the flames to take hold her dropped it into the open drain of the guttering. He didn't want Shelagh to find it, she had been desperately insistent, first that she didn't need an engagement ring, and once he had talked her out of that she became insistent that the ring had to be small, and unassuming. He had conceded and bought her a simple ring with a single stone, but he still felt that she shouldn't know how much it had cost.
When she had offered to come with him to help pick it out he had flat out refused, she had accused him of being old fashioned and pointed out that up-until now their relationship had been decidedly un-traditional. But he had still refused, and once he had the ring in his possession he had decided to re-propose, down on one knee, unfortunately she had at the time been cooking some pasta and Tim was in the other room shouting at the football – somewhat spoiling the moment. But she had laughed and told him that big gestures and classic romance were over rated.
"You're not James Stewart, I'm not Donna Reed and this isn't: It's a wonderful life!"
She had told him sternly, before standing him up to give him a kiss. The feeling of electricity as her lips had touched his, knowing that soon, she would be his wife made Patrick's heart skip and fill up with warmth, a warmth that, like a glass of good whiskey extended through his body and made him want to sing.
It had been a long time since he had asked Clair to marry him, that had been different, she had said yes straight away, he had already had the ring, his hair wasn't greying and she wasn't almost 20 years younger than him. Although, he reflected, that didn't make him any less certain, he couldn't be more sure that he had made the right decision in proposing to Shelagh. He could only hope that she felt the same way on accepting him.
"Dad?" Throwing his cigarette butt into the gutter, Patrick turned to face his son.
"Tim, what are you doing still up?"
"Just thinking …"
"I've been wanting to talk to you actually, about me and Shelagh. I wanted … well I thought that actually I hadn't really asked your opinion much about the whole thing. I mean you are alright with all of this aren't you? You know that Shelagh isn't trying to … or going to … and nor do I want her to -"
"Dad, if you're going to say that Shelagh isn't going to replace Mum then you don't have to. Shelagh's great, she's not Mum, because she's … well she's just not. And I don't think she wants to be either. Shelagh's really nice, and I like her – I really like her, and you obviously … like love her and stuff. And if it makes you happy then that's cool, and she makes me happy because she' s you know … nice and stuff. And I still love Mum, and remember her … but like … she's not going to disappear just because Shelagh and you are getting married. It's … you know … just like a new chapter or something. So it's cool Dad, it's cool – I'm happy for you."
"When did you get so grown up? I remember when I could hold you with one hand … and now here you are, giving me life tips."
"Yeah alright Dad, don't get all emotional – just because you've fallen in love!"
*Crazy night, going back to the flat now – am ringing Dad and Molly when I get home. S x*
*Break the news gently, don't want your Dad having another heart attack haha P x*
*INSENSETIVE! S x*
*You're marrying a cruel cruel man Px*
*Clearly I've made a big mistake, calling off the wedding now. Never liked you anyway – am running off with Ewan McGregor! S x*
*Heartless! Although handy, I'm eloping with Bridget Bardot so was breaking up with you anyway! Px*
*Isn't she dead? Sx*
*NO! Alive but ancient – just like me ha Px*
*You're not ancient … Just old! You could be her toy boy! Sxx*
*Hahahaha – got that's depressing, I'd have to run off with a woman in her 70's to be a toyboy! Px*
*Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha – aww, I feel guilty – still love you! Sx*
*Good – on an unrelated note, I think we ought to get one of those walk in baths for me. Px*
*Sod off - Look at Rod Stewart! Sx*
*I'd rather not! Px*
"Hello?"
"Hi Dad, it's me."
"Morning – how's things in the big city?"
"Big and cityish, much the same."
"Odd time for you to be ringing, not that it's not great!"
"Yeah sorry Dad, I just came off a night shift. I just needed to speak to you …"
"Right …"
"Yeah …"
"So did you want to talk then?"
"Right yeah, so the thing is, Patrick's proposed to me and I've accepted. We're getting married."
"Right … well that's fantastic, I've was telling him to propose 6 months ago, don't know what took him so long to be honest."
"He proposed almost a year ago – It's just I've only just accepted."
"What!? When did I bring you up to be such a tease!"
"Dad! I'm not a tease, I said yes – It just took me a while …"
"Well at least you said yes in the end, I think you've made a good decision Shelagh. He's a good man."
"Yeah he is isn't he … he is!"
"You've never seen any Indiana Jones films?! How is that even possible? What do you do at Christmas?"
"Clearly the Turner family has been doing Christmas all wrong!"
"Clearly."
"So – he's an archaeologist?"
"He's an archaeologist who does … adventurey stuff too! You should probably watch them in order really."
"There's more than one?"
"There's three of the real ones, I think they did a new one a few years back but I'm not convinced. There's Raiders of the Lost Ark, then there's The Temple of Doom, and then The Last Crusade.But since it's the third one that's on tonight, I suppose you'll have to watch them out of order!"
"Damn ITV! Which one is it on?"
"ITV2 I think … have a look … yeah, there – it's still on the adverts so if you want to go to the toilet then go now, I'm not having you disturbing Harrison Ford with your bladder."
"Perils of dating an old man!"
"It's alright, I'm going to have you catheterised once you reach the point of no return."
"You know Shelagh, I don't think you realise what a catch I am! I'm house trained by a previous wife, I'm in a fairly well paid job, and because of my job I work ridiculous hours and am therefore rarely home. There are women out there who would give their hind teeth to end up with me!"
"Not many women who could put up with you mind."
"You think? Shall we test your theory?"
"Umm … maybe not, wouldn't want to risk it. Go on, go to the loo before the film starts."
As Patrick stood up to leave Shelagh smiled at his retreating form and curled her legs up underneath her self, taking the tele off of mute she watched the Coming soon trailer for all the re-runs ITV were planning.
Hot summer nights, mid July, when you and I were forever wild. The crazy days, city lights, the way you'd play with me like a child. Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I've got nothing but my aching soul?
I know you will, I know you will. I know that you will. Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?
She smiled at the trailer, she was not a soft girl, she wasn't the type to talk about films or songs speaking to her and reading her soul or the other kind of stuff that she heard women in their mid-twenties having quarter life crises talking about. But hearing that song play over a hash together of clips from Downton Abbey series 1, she felt as if, just for a moment she understood and agreed with all their hot air and sentimentality.
"Did I miss anything?" Asked Patrick, returning to the living room and pulling down his jumper over the top of his trouser,
"I think I know what I want our first dance to be …"
"Is it Agadoo? Because that is the only dance that I will do in public."
"It's a slow one – and I'll get you ruined on Asti before we get to the first dance so don't worry." With a grin, Shelagh reached up and lacing her fingers through Patricks she sat him down next to her on the sofa,
"You're not usually this … sentimental."
"It's you, you make me happy, and apparently when I'm happy I become dead soppy." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, she curled up into his side, pushing her arm around his torso and tucking her hand down between his hip and the arm of the seat. "And if you want, we can get them to play Agadoo too."
"Can we have the Conga too?"
"Obviously, it's not a wedding without the conga!"