Ladies and gentlemen: Chapter 28! In which the Turners have big decisions to make.

Thanks for all your reviews so far, I love reading them and it's makes me giddy when I get a new one! So if you feel inclined, please do drop me a review.

This chapter's song is:
Fluorescent Adolescent – Arctic Monkeys

Further A/N: My spell checker wanted me to put bugler instead of burglar, and now I quite like the idea of someone breaking in to your house to play the bugle!

"C196 – clear, clear and … clear."

"Hat trick, well done C196!"

"We should start sending out trophies, right last one - C238 … clear, clear and – ooh – syphilis."

"Oh so close and yet so far, so what was that?"

"Uh C238 is clear on HIV, clear on hepatitis and positive on syphilis. Do you want to make the call or me to do it?"

"Umm, I think you'll have to do it – I've got a meeting with a social worker in ten minutes about Becky Roberts. Will you be alright making the phone call?"

"Yeah no problem Shelagh, I'll go and do that now for you. But you know what she's like, she'll want a meeting with you after."

"And she can have one, if she turns up! I practically had to chase her down to get those bloods."

"I'll let her know your terms and conditions."

"Thanks Steph." Said Shelagh, watching the nurse leave her office, she turned back to her computer and scrolled through the four emails that had arrived since she had started going through the STI records for her expectant mothers with Stephanie. There was two hospital internal memos, one about the hospital canteen's new self-clear policy, and another about renovations in the staff car park, putting it at half capacity for the next six weeks. Sighing, she picked up her desk phone and dialled the number for the addiction Charge nurse, continuing to scroll through her emails there was one from a social worker about one of her patients and a second from Julie about changing her shift next week. A knock at the office door made her look up sharply with the phone still clamped between her ear and her shoulder.

"Hey baby girl!"

"Trixie, it's been ages – how are you?"

"Ey I'm good my darlin' how's married life treating you?"

"Very good, what can I do for you?"

"Nothin' much, message from Patrick."

"Oh?"

"He's on a late one, and says that Tim needs a some money for a scout trip. Says when you go home can you write him a cheque?"

"Oh yeah, of course, yeah that's fine."

"Sorry, you busy?"

"No – just waiting for someone to pick up the phone, how's life for you?"

"For the most part! No, things are going well – well so far anyway … OH! Hi Danny, it's Shelagh – I need to speak to you about Charity … uh … Phillips? Hang on two secs … Sorry Trixie, I'll see you soon yeah?"

"Course my love, see you soon!"

"Sorry Danny, right yeah – I need to have a meeting with you about her … well she's on methadone, yeah … but when I did her internal this morning she had fresh track marks on her arm so … well obviously. Uh … 35 weeks gone, so I'm just really concerned – I mean you'll have to be involved once the baby's born … mmm … yeah, well she's in next Monday, but I want her in sooner … yeah … if she's injecting again then … obviously!"

You used to get it in your fishnets, so now you only get it in your night dress. Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness, landed in a very common crisis, everything's in order in a black hole. Nothing seems as pretty as the past though, that Bloody Mary's lacking a Tabasco, remember when you used to be a rascal? Oh that boy's a slag. The best you ever had, the best you ever had. Is just a memory and those dreams

Flicking on the kettle, Shelagh turned up the radio and kicked off her shoes and lifted herself up she sat on the kitchen counter kicking her heels against the cupboard below. Humming along to the music she closed her eyes and listened to the buzzing bubble of the water boiling,

"Hi Shelagh!"

"Hey Tim, how's tricks?"

"Fine thanks … um, did Dad ring you?"

"Yeah, yeah I got the message. Have a look in that drawer, see if my cheque book's in there – it's a Lloyds one. Where's the trip to?"

"Snowdon … camping trek. Is this it?"

"Yup that's it, pass it over. So what's the damage?"

"£160 … please."

"Right, who am I making it out to?"

"Shoreditch scout group."

"Mmhmm … and … uh, what's the date today?"

"The third."

"The … the third?"

"Yeah."

"Right, uh … there you are."

"Thanks, I'm going to go upstairs."

"Right … yeah. See you soon." Watching Tim wander out of the kitchen and up the stairs Shelagh slowly lowered herself off the kitchen counter and padded softly in her socks to the kitchen door. Pinned to the wood panel was the houses kitchen calendar, an ugly thing given to them by Kathy, by all accounts she quite liked them although her taste in calendars would suggest other whys. Tracing her finger across the month, and then flipping down the calendar she checked the previous month,

"Shit." she hissed under her breath, standing upright quickly she ran a hand through her hair trying to remember. But the more she tried to recall the harder it became, she tried to walk calmly into the hallway, grabbing her trainers and house keys on the way she turned at the last minute to shout up the stairs to Tim. "Tim? … I'm just popping to the shop … I'll only be ten minutes or so … will you be alright?"

"Yeah … can I have a Kit-Kat?"

"Uh – yeah!"

Patrick whistled a tuneless melody, fiddling with the keys he locked up the car and shouldering his bag he made his way along the street towards the house. Humming a little louder he flicked through his bunch of keys to find the front door key and unlocked the door.

Stood around a foot away from him was Shealgh, holding a boots carrier bag, as he stepped in she spun around surprised and stared at him as though he were a burglar who had forced his way in.

"Hi love … are you alright?"

"Yeah!"

"Are you sure … you look a bit … odd?"

"Odd? No no … no."

"OK … right."

"Yup."

"Right … are you going to let me in? Or shall I just lurk?"

"Sorry! Sorry – world of my own!"

"So I see."

"Patrick?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Uh … I'm late."

"For what?"

"No … Late late."

"For what what?"

"Late … as in … you know … LATE."

"Oh late as in … as in late as in … late!"

"And the penny descends … so that's a thing that's happening."

"Blimey. Oh, so is that what's in the Boots bag?"

"Yeah."

"So do you want to … you know … Piss on some plastic for me?"

"You know, you don't say stuff like that often enough to me." Shelagh pulled off her coat and hung it up against the wall, turning back towards her husband she reached up and hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his chest and drinking in the smell of cigarettes, Daz and disinfectant that lingered on Patrick's jumper.

"Love? What's wrong?"

"I'm scared."

"Of? Being pregnant?"

"Yeah. I don't know, Tim doesn't scare me … but he's not a baby, I can't really mess up Tim … I could mess up a baby."

"Well you could … but you know, I managed to do it – and he, so far, hasn't turned out to be a psychopath. Which I'm pretty pleased about, sometimes that's all that's all you can ask for. Whatever happens – you'd be an excellent mum."

"Thank you. Shall I go and wee on my little plastic stick?"

"Yeah go on – pass the time and all!" Shelagh extracted herself from Patrick's arms and picked walked slowly towards the downstairs toilet. She could feel Patrick behind her, but with resolution and terror she refused to turn around and look at him, locking the door behind her she put the carrier bag inside the sink and opened it up, looking at the nest of boxes that had been sold to her with a knowing smile from the chemist she picked the first out.

Early response pregnancy test
TELLS YOU FIRST

The pink cardboard box proudly told her. As opposed to telling who first, she wondered, pulling it open she slid the test out in its plastic-foil pouch and put it on top of the cistern, digging into the bag again she took out the second box, this one claimed to be:

Over 99% Accurate
Brand Most Recommended by Doctors

Again she pulled the test out and lay it beside its counterpart behind her. The third box was far less glitzy than the previous two, the white box with it's simple navy writing made no such exciting claims.

PREGNANCY TEST
Easy to use

Which was an odd claim to make, she felt – how difficult could a pregnancy test be to use, it required very little in the way of skills. Unbuttoning her trousers she caught sight of herself in the sink mirror in front of her, her hair untidy and a little frizzy from a day in work, her clothes rumpled from her cycle dash to Boots and a look of terror in her eyes. Looking away from her reflection she pulled down her knickers and sat down, reaching behind her to pick up the three tests she leant forward to switch on the cold water tap and began to rip open the packets.

Stood around 5ft away in the kitchen slowly stirring the tea bags in two mugs Patrick was staring at the kitchen tiles, he felt suddenly like a very small boy lost and scared. His life had changed radically in the last few year, the last 9 months particularly: in which he had acquired a wife, and now possibly another child. It wasn't, he decided, that he didn't want more children it was that he hadn't considered the possibility for a very long time, either due to a lack of wife or because, with Shelagh, it had never come up. Deciding that the tea had had more than enough stirring he took out the bags and put two sugars in his own, Patrick walked over to the back door and sat down on the step, casting an eye across the garden he lit a cigarette and took a swig of tea. He was almost back to the filter by the time that he heard the click of the lock and Shelagh came out,

"Your tea's on the side … did you do it?"

"Thanks, yeah – it's a four minute wait."

"Right. You know, it never occurred to me that we might have children."

"No?"

"Not that I don't want them … I just … you know, I thought that that boat had sailed."

"Clearly not, you see -" she began, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I always did want children, and then I spent so long thinking that I would never get the chance … and then I met you and you already had Tim … and I love Tim. I know he's not my son, and I'm not his mum – and I wouldn't want to be! But … I love him like he was my son. So I suppose I thought that I should just be happy with that … is that stupid?"

"No, it's nice to know that you're so pragmatic. I think your four minutes are up love."

"Right - So let's do this thing." Walking slowly back towards the downstairs bathroom she leant around the doorway and picked the three small plastic sticks off of the cistern and arranged them face down in a line in her palm before walking back towards Patrick. "I don't think I can look, please … do it for me?"

"OK – right … Turn them over."

"Ready?"

"Yup … 1, 2, 3, go." Screwing her eyes shut she rolled the three sticks over in her hand, Patrick laid a hand on hers, turning the stick more toward him to see.

"OK."

"OK?"

"Negative. You're not pregnant love."

Pulling off his jumper and fiddling to loosen his tie, Patrick stood at the foot of the bed looking through the nets at the street below, it was empty apart from Bernadette sat on the garden wall over the road staring at the streetlight. The bedroom door opened and Shelagh appeared in the lamp light, switching off the landing light she smiled at Patrick and slipped off her shoes with a sigh.

"You're disappointed aren't you?"

"About what?"

"You know about what Shelagh."

"No, I'm not disappointed. It means I can get going on that massive bottle of vodka and cigar collection now."

"It's alright to be disappointed."

"I'm not disappointed Patrick, when I woke up this morning I wasn't pregnant – and I'm going to bed un-pregnant … so I can't really complain."

"If you weren't disappointed, then that'd be fine – but if you were disappointed and you were pretending not to be because of me … then don't. Because I'm more disappointed than I was expecting."

"So – what are you saying?"

"That … maybe we could … try … actively ... for a baby."

"That's what you think we should do?"

"Well … do you not?"

"I think … you might be right. What if I go all crazy and turn into a sex nazi?"

"When you get out the thermometer and marking down days on the calendar I'll run, but until then … we can give it a go."

"Deal … we give it a go, and I won't start taking my temperature!"