I apologise for another filler chapter of life and stuff,
I have plans for what the future holds for the Turners (e.g Christmas!) and their associated company but they need to get there before other things happen, so this is a fairly gentle chapter of life and love and hope that you all enjoy it.
Thank you for all your excellent reviews, when a distinct lack of motivation descends and I just want to watch Coronation street in bed, it's your reviews that shoe-horn me out and up and writing again. So thanks for all of those – and please do carry on if you feel in the mood.
This Chapters song is:
Perfect day – Lou Reed (In honour of the great musician, who passed away this week.)
Enjoy! x
"I'm sorry Patrick."
"Don't worry – it happens, it's happened before, and it'll happen again. Just one of those things."
"I know but it seems really un-fair on you, I mean I was working on your birthday and now Christmas eve and Christmas day night shifts!"
"Yeah but love we've got Christmas day during the day! And as an added bonus me and Tim can use it as the perfect excuse to avoid going to Kathy's."
"Every cloud!"
"Exactly, I mean I love Kathy … but she takes Christmas very seriously."
"I recall the Queens speech from last year … and the timetable pinned to the fridge."
"Yeah … it'll be a break to have it at home with you and the boy."
"Except -"
"Except nothing. It's Christmas every year!"
"Really?!"
"Yeah – so I'm told, so it's fine! It is completely fine – I'll have you 364 days a year … and in 30 weeks you and your plus one."
"Yeah. Yup … yeah you will."
"Still scared? It is scary, you're bringing a life into the world and you're responsible for making sure that they end up happy and a decent human being."
"Oh no pressure then! What if I'm crap?"
"You won't be Love, I know you – you'll be a brilliant mum, you're a natural with the babies on the ward."
"Yeah but they're babies … what about when the baby's all grown up and stroppy and rude? What if I hate him or her?"
"You will – but you're allowed to, because you'll never stop loving them … there'll be days that that you wish you could just run away hid from the screaming and the paddys – but you'll always love them and do your best for them … because that's what parents do."
"You're sure!?"
"Positive, you'll be brilliant. You know love, I've been thinking."
"Always dangerous."
"Well … I was thinking the other week … this isn't really your house."
"Oh thanks! I'll remember that next time I'm picking food out of the plug hole."
"No I mean … well when I think of your flat, it was full of colour – full of pictures … full of life. And this place has always been variations of crème, why don't you have a go at uh … Shelaghfying the house?"
"Shelaghfying?"
"Yeah – well you know … paint the kitchen bright green or something. Go wild! I need to go."
"Yeah go-on, first day back – how are you feeling?"
"Good. I think – no it's good – bit nerve wracking but good all the same."
"Well good luck, I'm going to have a shower. Love you."
"Love you too – see you tonight."
"See you."
Patrick buttoned up his coat against the winter air he knew was about to hit him as he stepped out of the car, collecting his back from the passenger foot well he left the car and stood beside it, looking across the slowly filling staff car park. Lighting a cigarette as he strode across he swung his bag in his hand and smiled to himself. Back at last.
The hospital was filling up with the day staff as the last of the night staff shuffled out for their final cigarette breaks before bed-baths and handover began. In some respects Patrick wished that Shelagh was there for his first day to hold his hand and tell him he'd be fine, and on the other he was glad that she wasn't so that he could get his head down and act as if nothing had happened. Taking a deep breath as reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the doors which lead, down the corridor to the maternity department, he walked on and paused only when he reached the heavy fire doors. Taking his ID badge from the waistband of his trousers he pulled it upwards on its extending cord and swiped it to get in, any nerves he had on his way up were immediately quashed.
On his left was a consultant surgeon walking briskly with an anaesthetist towards one of the side rooms muttering about obesity and caesareans, at the nurses' station Jenny was drowning under a pile of boxed latex gloves that she was carrying across the room while Cammila looked exhausted as she carried two mugs of tea and a plate of toast into side room 3. He certainly was back, back in the throes of another insanely busy and chaotic shift, deciding against making any kind of show of arriving he continued down the length of the ward and arrived at what was formerly his office. A creased and battered piece of A4 with his replacements name typed upon it was blu-tacked to the door, which in turn was slightly ajar, pushing it open he revealed Dr Morecombe, holding a cardboard box, which he was filling with odds and ends from around the office.
"Good morning - you must be Dan?"
"I am. Hello."
"Yes … hello. Sorry, Patrick Turner."
"Oh Shelagh's husband?"
"Well yes … and senior registrar."
"I've been … watching the fort so to speak." Patrick smiled and, dropping his bag on the office floor he walked over to meet the young locum.
"I know, and very well – Shelagh's been telling me how excellent you are."
"Gosh – really?"
"Yes, so much so that … I have a proposition for you."
What a perfect day, drink Sangria in the park, later when it gets dark, we go home. Ooh such a perfect day feed animals in the zoo, then later a movie, too and then home. It's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spend it with you. Such a perfect day you just keep me hanging on, you just keep me hanging on.
8. Country rearranged on a tin (6)
Tapping her pen against the newspaper Shelagh reclined back and took a sip of her tea, the kitchen was cleaned and she'd done all her ironing. The crossword was almost done and she was considering going for a swim – a run was tempting but the cold winter rain outside less so, spelling out her answer on the top of the paper she tried to think but nothing would come.
She was too distracted; every time anything was even vaguely baby related she would think of her own child, barely an inch long and hiding deep within herself, a tiny spec of life like a bubble within a bubble. She was shook out of her reverie by the phone ringing, putting down her pen she wandered into the living room and picked up the landline,
"Hello?"
"Good afternoon, is Mr Turner there?"
"No – sorry he's at work, can I help? I'm his wife."
"Oh right, this is Maria at St Joseph's secondary school. It's about Tim."
"Is he alright?"
"He's a bit under the weather, he's been sick this lunch time and we were wandering if Dr Turner could pick him up?"
"I'll come, I'll tell Patrick and bring Tim home – he can't really leave work."
"Oh right – yes thanks that would be excellent."
"Right – give me 20 minutes – NATION!"
"Sorry?"
"Sorry … crossword clue … I'm on my way."
"Right … uh thank you!"
*The boy is sick – I've picked him up from school. Sx*
*Is he OK? Do you need me at home? Px*
*No I'm fine – and so will Tim be, what time are you back? Sx*
*7ish – do you want me back early? Px*
*We'll be fine – I'm super-nurse! Sx*
*OK – well I'll try not to overstay at work. Pxx*
Pocketing her mobile into her cardigan, Shelagh carried the glass of water into the living room and put it down on the side table, she sat down as gently as she could beside Tim and rested a hand on his arm.
"How are you feeling?"
"Crap, everything hurts."
"You're clammy, here, have some water."
Passing him the glass, Shelagh rested the back of her hand on his forehead, his skin was slick with sweat and he was pale as a sheet, "Bit of a temperature, do you feel hot?"
"No … cold."
"OK, right – bed. I'll hunt down some paracetamol for you."
"Thanks."
"No problem … do you want anything else?"
"Uh … no … thanks. Actually … can I have bowl?"
"You're still feeling sick."
"Nauseous, and really really rubbish."
"Poor you, go-on up I'll bring the stuff now."
"You're such a nurse." he replied, standing up slowly and taking his glass of water he shuffled out of the room towards the stairs. At the first step he turned slowly and gave her a weary smile, "You're a pretty cool step mum too."
"Flatterer."
"I'm just a natural charmer." he replied with half a smile as he carried on up the stairs. Shelagh watched him ascend and wandered into the kitchen to rifle through the drawers to find some paracetamol. Having located the plastic and foil blister pack she pocketed them and grabbing a plastic mixing bowel from the cupboard made her way up to follow Tim,
*It's the 'flu SX*
*Proper flu – or school boy flu? Px*
*Proper bona-fide flu sx*
*Bugger! Px*
*You're a star by the way Px*
re-pocketing the mobile she knocked softly on Tim's door and stepped in, his school uniform was lying on the floor, and he was in his pyjamas curled up in bed in a tight ball. Sitting down beside him she rested a hand on the bumpy duvet near his sholdour and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Hey Mr T – paracetamol for you."
"Mmm? Oh thanks Shelagh."
"Your Dad knows your back – do you want him home early?"
"No it's cool – I got you. You'll do."
"Dammed with faint praise! I've bought up the bowl for you … um … I'll put it by the side here?"
"Thanks."
"Right, well I'll let you sleep."
"Just holler if you need me, I'll be downstairs."
"Thanks."
Shelagh tucked her knees up and pulled the duvet closer around her to try and keep out the cold, moving her feet to feel for Patrick but all that her toes met was icy sheets. Sleepily turning over to look she saw the empty bed, and squinted into the pre-dawn darkness of the bedroom to see the time, just gone midnight. Rolling back to face the door, she could see the slither of light near the floor boards peeking through from the landing and the slight creak of the battered floor.
Closing her eyes she burrowed back into the bed to try and warm up, and just as the warmth was starting to take her back to sleep she heard the sharp snap of the landing light and the bedroom door opening. Smiling in her sleep with her head turned into the pillow she could feel Patrick trying not to wake her and failing miserably
"It's alright, I'm awake."
"Sorry – did I wake you?"
"No, what's up doc?"
"Tim, throwing up again."
"Is he alright."
"Yeah, fever's down and he's less sweaty."
"Always nice when people are less sweaty than expected." pulling back his side of the duvet Patrick climbed into the bed with a small chuckle. Curling into her spine, he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her in tightly towards him, leaning up to kiss her on the cheek before diving back towards the pillow. "Your feet are bloody freezing!"
"Sorry love."
"It's fine – just get them away from mine, I was nice and warm." The bedroom door creaked again and opened slightly,
"Is it Tim?" Patrick asked,
"Uh – no, Bernadette."
"Is she coming to bed too?"
"Yes – and I bet she's warmer than you ice-man." with a muffled thud followed by a dull flump, the cat landed on the bed and, having done a circuit of the area settled on curling up tightly against Shelagh's stomach. Bernadette's tail flickering against her thighs and after a moment a low quiet purr began.
"Oh, I forgot to say – I offered Daniel the job, as my SHO."
"Great, what did he say?"
"He said yes, he's a nice boy."
"Yeah – I'm glad for him. I love you."
"Love you too."