I know I update really slowly, and write quite short chapters - so to make up for it, you've got an extra long chapter and only a day after my last update!
Lucky you!

I sat down and re-read the story and tried and pick out what I don't like in recent ones and things I don't do anymore from older ones (that I should do!) and then change that in my next chapter. So hopefully this shows, and you like this chapter.

SPOILER ALERT FOR SERIES 3

For those of you who haven't seen the beginning of series 3 or the Christmas special, while my story is all nonsense from my head that is totally non canon - there are elements that work with stuff that happens in the series that I work in. So I suppose I'm saying "be aware!" - a character appears in this chapter who will only make sense if you have watched series 3, episode 1 - Wynn, is Winnifred (I've made her Welsh because that's really the only way you can justify calling a character Wynn)

END OF SPOILER ALERT

Thank you again to all of you who send me reviews, they are greatfully recieved, I love reading them and knowing what you all think. So please do review!

This chapter's songs:
Dream a Little Dream of Me - Ella Fitzgerald (and many others - but I like her version best!)
All the things you are - Ella Fitzgerald

Enjoy x

"Maternity, midwife speaking."

"Hello? It's Shelagh …"

"Right, Shelagh who?"

"Umm Turner … it's me."

"Yup, have we got you on our books Shelagh?"

"What?"

"Are you registered to give birth here?"

"What are you … sorry who is this?"

"This is the midwife dear, are you in labour?"

"Right, which midwife?"

"This is Wynn, Wynn Jones."

"Right … sorry, of course … is Patrick Turner there? The doctor."

"Yes, but he's busy in his office."

"Can you put me through?"

"I'm sorry, he asked not to be disturbed. But if you're worried about your labour then I can promise you that our midwives are really well trained, there may be no need for doctor to attend."

"Oh do you know what … never mind."

Shelagh hung up the phone and flopped back onto the sofa, Nina had finally started to get the hang of sleeping as she entered her third month of being alive much to Patrick and Shelagh's relief leaving her a little more time to clean and sleep. It was of course inevitable that they would find maternity cover for Shelagh, but somehow, having actually spoken to the woman she felt a little unsettled, as though she was a button that had come off a cardigan, thrown away and replaced with a shinier alternative. Midwifery was her life blood, her passion and it made her happy, and as much as she was needed at home and loved being at home she did miss indulging her passion, with a smile she remembered a conversation her and Patrick had had years before, and he had told her "if you truly believe in what it is you're doing, if you do your job and live your life because it makes you happy then nothing can go wrong" the problem was she wasn't sure if she did truly believe in what she was doing at the moment, which seemed to be chief cook and bottle washer.

"Who was that Wynn?"

"Hmm? Sorry Cynthia?"

"On the phone before, who was that?"

"Oh I'm not sure, she might ring back she seemed a little confused."

"Well, was she in labour or pregnant or what? Did you get a name?"

"I don't know she hung up, and when I tried 1471 it was a withheld number. She was called … Sheila I think, sounded Scottish."

"Shelagh Turner?"

"Yeah that's it, oh is she on our books? I couldn't find her name sorry."

"No no … she's umm well you've got her job, she's the midwife on maternity leave at the moment. Dr Turner's wife."

"Oh God."

"What?"

"I think I may have been less than helpful … oh no, do you think she'll be cross."

"Oooh … furious I expect, she's ferocious is Shelagh – makes Sister Evangelina look like a pussy cat!"

"Who's this?" Asked Jenny walking behind the nurses station carrying a box of obs charts,

"Wynn was a bit unhelpful when Shelagh just rang up, I was saying how vicious and ill-tempered Shelagh is!" replied Cynthia, biting her cheeks to stop herself bursting out laughing.

"What do you … OH! Oh … good-lord yes! Yes Shelagh's absolutely … that temper of hers, you want to hope next time she comes in for a coffee she doesn't notice you or you'll wish you'd never got this job." With the perfect timing that he rarely possessed Patrick Turner left his office towards the nurses station, pulling on his jacket as he walked,

"Morning ladies, how's tricks?"

"Oh Dr Turner – I'm so sorry!" cried the young midwife, jumping up from the chair and launching herself half across the desk,

"Are you? Ri-igh, that's … thank you?"

"About your wife, I want you to tell her how sorry I am, I didn't know who she was!"

"Sorry, I think I'm a little behind, what are you talking about Wynn?"

"Your wife called, and I didn't know it was her, so I … I wouldn't put her through to you and then the girls were just saying how she's got a temper and how cross she'd be with me!"

"Oh … oh Wynn." replied the doctor with a smile, he looked past her at the two other midwives, trying desperately not to laugh out loud before turning back to face her. "The girls are having you on, my wife is the nicest woman in the world, she'd give you both kidneys if you said please. Trust me, you're safe. Ladies, I'm off out for a cigarette – and if you see Dan, tell him I want a word." He added over his shoulder as he carried on down the corridor with a chuckle. Spinning on her heels Wynn scowled at the pair behind her, her broad south Wales accent was spiked with hurt,

"You didn't have to make me look like an idiot in front of doctor."

"Sorry … we didn't know he was going to come out. If it's any consolation though, he's really sweet, he won't think you're an idiot."

"Regardless, doctor is … is a senior member of staff, I have a reputation to maintain."

"Wynn …" began Jenny gently, sitting down beside the midwife. "There's something you need to know about working here. This really isn't the Chelsea and Westminster, I mean for a start the only reason Dr Turner's going outside to smoke is because they've fixed the smoke detector in his office that he broke! We eat cake, we … mess about and tease each other and when it's quiet we dance in the staff room. And most of all, that man who went outside, is … well he's a really good doctor, and gets paid a hell of a lot more than us but he's not senior to us – we're all part of a team and his title doesn't make him god. He respects us and our knowledge and we respect him and his."

"Shelagh, really? Are we really going to play this game again?"

"Yes, there is nothing wrong with curiosity. I just want to know what Wynn's like."

"Urgh; she's nice enough, well spoken, Welsh, young … early 20s maybe, a perfectly competent midwife all in all."

"Is she pretty?"

"Oh for Christ sake Shelagh this is perverse. She's taken your job, temporarily I might add, she hasn't stolen your identity! She's not about to turn up at the door and claim to be my wife!"

"Don't shout, you'll wake the baby. Sorry."

"Well … really. When Dan turned up I wasn't all over you like a rash trying to find out if you were … jumping his bones behind the filing cabinets!"

"No! No OK sorry!"

"It's fine. Look … uh, why don't we go out?"

"What? Where?"

"Not right now, I mean in general. Just you and me, sans Nina. Somewhere … dancing, drinking, good music? Before they discharge Tim in a few weeks and its all hands on deck again."

"Really?"

"Really, you look like you could use a bit of a change of scene."

"Yeah – these four walls have lost their appeal a little, then again I suppose I should make the most of it. I can't imagine not spending all day with Nina."

"In nine months' time you'll be crawling the walls to get out – I know you, cut you open and it says midwife through you like a stick of rock."

"Any chance for a Blackpool reference eh?"

"Cut me and I bleed tangerine. Rockin' all over the world!"

"Oh you're ridiculous! And I'm stuck with you … damn."

"Sorry."

"Ach you will be!"

*Still on for tonight? Julie *

*Yes! About 6 Ok? Patrick*

*No problem. Told S yet? Julie*

*No – going to tell her now, fingers crossed! Patrick* Patrick pocketed his mobile and pulled his jumper down a little, stepping out of the hallway he stood a moment in the doorway he watched his wife, dancing to the radio on the windowsill as she washed up the sink.

Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me. Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me

"Stars fading but I linger on dear …Still craving your kiss …I'm longing to linger till dawn dear … Just saying this … Sorry, thought you were still with Nina." Said Shelagh, starting as she turned to dry her hands,

"She's gone off now, don't stop on my account." he replied, walking towards her he drew her into a hug, dancing a fumbling non dance to the song that the radio poured out. Resting his head over hers, his chin touching the edge of her glasses as he held her close he smelt her smell, the shampoo and the faint traces of her perfume that mixed together. "Now … do you remember when I said I was going to take you out?"

"Yes … why? Are we going out?"

"Mmhmm." He replied proudly, "Ronnie Scotts – you don't want to know what I had to do to get us in for tonight's show!"

"What! Ronnie Scotts?! My God Patrick, that's fantastic!" Shelagh cried in reply, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him softly, "… but how the hell did you get us in?" she asked pulling back, planting her heels back onto the kitchen tiles.

"I called in a favour with a man I know."

"There are men in Soho who owe you favours? You, Patrick Turner are full of surprises. What about Nina though?"

"It's fine, she's taken care of – I'm going to lace her milk with scotch so she'll sleep through the night!"

"Oh excellent!"

"Julie's coming around in about two hours, she's taking her home for the night and she'll bring her back at 10am."

"You're brilliant. You're better than brilliant."

"I know."

"Oh my God … what am I going to wear?"

"You've got loads of stuff upstairs."

"Yeah, stuff that I was wearing before I had a baby Patrick! Oh God … what have I got? Argh … right I need to go and have a look!"

"Right … yes I'll go and … watch Match of The Day."

Bernadette sat on Patrick's pillow, her preferred spot on the bed, watching Shelagh intently with dark unblinking eyes, she was momentarily distracted by the small person who lay on a towel on the bed kicking it's cotton covered limbs, before getting bored and returning her gaze to Shelagh. Who was staring into the mirror, wondering why no-one had invented a make up the strength of emulsion paint to cover up the exhaustion her face was showing, although they were marginally less prominent the dark circles were still there, and the dull skin that told of her sleepless nights and days spent feeding and cleaning. With a sigh, she picked up the moisturiser and set to work, catching sight of the baby in her mirror she spoke out while rubbing Nivea,

"I hope you think you're worth all this Mrs, I want you to be funding my retirement in the Caribbean!" the baby gurgled in response and Shelagh smiled.

"You look nice."

"I havn't done anything yet."

"Your hair? It looks different …"

"It's called being washed Patrick, dry shampoo will only work up till a point."

"What's dry shampoo?"

"Well it's … oh don't worry, it won't make any sense. I'm not sure what to do with my hair, I could do a sort of bun type thing."

"No, no leave it down, I like it down."

"Alright, down I shall leave it. Which dress do you think? They're hanging up on the wardrobe door."

"Uh, they're both nice."

"The black one," She said, nodding at a black maternity dress she had bought at about 6 months pregnant, with ¾ length sleeves and a pleated knee length skirt, "is nice, good for dancing but … well it's black. And the blue one -"

"- That's green."

"It's blue, how is that not blue?"

"It's green! I mean it's … well it's green."

"OK, so the turquoise one -"

"Green."

"The other one, that's less good for dancing but it's more … going-outy." she finished staring at the 1960's style shift dress of indeterminate colour that hung beside the other dress, while not a maternity dress it was loose by nature, and although not as loose as it had been it still fitted.

"I … I like … uh … nope, I can't cope with the pressure. You'll have to pick, I can barely dress myself, let alone you love."

"That is true … what are you wearing tonight?"

"I thought that blue suit, with the waist coat you know … not sure what tie."

"I'm sure you'll find something appropriate."

"Patrick - those Martinis were lethal … I want to dance."

"We've been dancing all night, we're almost home. Mind the curb!"

"Hmm? Oh yes … No let's dance here."

"We're in the middle of the street Shelagh!"

"Shh come on … come here." She turned on her heel and held out a hand for her husband, he looked about the deserted the suburban street before sighing and taking the proffered hand and kissing it.

"You are the promised kiss of springtime that makes the lonely winter seem long …"

She began to sing, sliding and arm around his waist and pulling him tightly to her,

"You are the breathless hush of evening that trembles on the brink of a lovely song …"

letting go of him, she pulled his arm outstretched and spun around back towards the warmth of his body, steading herself with her palms against his chest she smiled and reached up for a kiss. Breaking away after a moment she laughed and slid her hand back to waist, pushing her fingers into his spine as she held him tightly against her chest.

"You are the angel glow that lights a star, the dearest things I know are what you are. Some day my happy arms will hold you and someday I'll know that moment divine, when all the things you are, are mine … lets go home."

"I thought you wanted to dance?"

"And now I want to go home with you, and go to bed with you, and enjoy the fact that for once we won't be disturbed by small people … or bigger people, wanting food!"

"Go back to sleep, it'll be Kathy or Molly or Dad." Said Shelagh sleepily, pulling the duvet up with one hand, and running the other over Patrick's bare stomach to pull his warm body against hers in the cold bedroom. Casting an eye at his alarm clock Patrick was inclined to agree, the only people who would ring at 8:20 on a Sunday morning were invariably people you didn't want to speak to at 8:20 on a Sunday morning. There was still a precious hour and a half to enjoy before they had to behave like grownups and look after the baby, and do a big shop, and visit Tim, until then they were free to behave like naughty teenagers, curled up in bed, lost in each other's taste and smell.

The house phone eventually rang out and Patrick took the opportunity to put his arm around his wife's waist and trace a cold forefinger along her spine, remembering with a smile as she had pulled him to her, her hand mirroring his at that moment, as they danced on the tarmac pavement in the light of the street lamp as the world slept around them the night before. He remembered every element of the night before in an intense burn of colours and sounds and smells, the club which seemed to be filled with energy that Shelagh absorbed, she was most alive when music was around her, she took it in like rocket fuel and it made her shine and blossom. As he lay there, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips he was shaken from his reverie by his mobile, deep somewhere in the discarded pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, groaning inwardly Patrick sat up and shuffled down towards the end of the bed while trying to stay under the duvet,

"It's definitely Kathy then." said the muffled voice of Shelagh from her face buried deep in her pillow.

"Maybe she wants to talk about the christening?"

"Leave it."

"She wont give up if I let it ring … Hello?"

"Uh, hello Mr Turner?"

"Mmhmm, speaking … Right – what is it? Is it Tim?" Sitting upright as she heard Tim's name and the tone of Patrick's voice, pulling the sheets up to cover her chest she reached out to touch Patrick's shoulder. There was a stillness that occupied the room, as Patrick held the phone to his ear and listened intently, "I'll be there now – I'm on my way." hanging up the phone,he jumped off the bed and dived at his wardrobe for something to wear.

"What is it? Patrick? Patrick!" She shouted, making him stop, she could see the terror in his eyes and hands shake as he fumbled to pull a jumper off its hanger, reaching out she held onto his hand, holding it steady. "Patrick – what is it, what's happened?"

"That was a nurse at … it's Tim. His lung … where they repaired it or … there's been a complication, he's been put on an emergency ventilator … they say I need to come in now."

"Right, OK. Get dressed, I'll ring Julie and tell her to keep Nina for a bit."

"No love -"

"No. No Patrick, I'm coming with you, he's mine too – we both need to be there now."