Chapter 4-something (I lose track!), in which Tim comes home, Patrick confronts his fears and gets some home truths.

I'm not overly happy with this chapter, I knew where I wanted to get to with the story - but it all ended up being very dialogue based, which I do a lot - but try and avoid doing too much because I don't think it's as good to read for you guys!

Thank you to all of you who review, I love reading them so if you like what you read, or if you have any corrections or just fancy a chat then please do review!

This chapter's song is:
Three little birds - Bob Marley

Enjoy! xx

"OK Jade, big push for me … doctor?"

"Yup … right Jade, you are doing brilliantly, keep doing – nice big push into your bottom for me. Right John – forceps are clear. Well done Jade, that's the head delivered, you're doing fantastically."

"Thanks doctor, OK Jade – home straight now, just the shoulders to go, easy does it … easy … easy does it … big push for me and. And … Dr Turner?"

"Yes John … ah … OK. Right let's get that cord cut pronto, and I'll be needing ergometrin IV John."

"Right."

"And shall we get the boys from Obs and Gobs bleeped."

"Right."

"What's going on doctor?" Came a terrified voice from the head of the bed, the pale and clammy face looked between the doctor and her husband cradling the tiny ball of life wrapped tightly in a hospital blanket.

"Jade, you're bleeding a little bit – it's nothing to panic about. What's important is that your beautiful baby girl is delivered safely and we're going to get you sorted in two seconds."

*Take me home. Px*

*I'm covered in vomit and leaking milk – fiver says your day is better than mine. Sx*

*PV heamorage. Px*

*Lost my fiver then – what happened?"

*She's fine, they're both fine, I can smell blood on me. Px*

*Have a cigarette, disguise it with tobacco! Sx*

*Current plan in progress – may work! Why are you covered in shit and vomit? Px*

*Nina is generous with her bodily fluids Sx*

*She's a very giving girl. Px*

*I'm so lucky – and feel so sexy right now. Hospital tonight? Sx*

*Yes – should be back with Tim at about 7ish? Px*

*I'll bake a cake and crack open the lasagne! Sx*

*PAR-TAY! Px*

*No. Just … no. Sx*

Don't worry about a thing 'cause every little thing gonna be all right. Singin': Don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right! Rise up this mornin', smiled with the risin' sun, three little birds perch by my doorstep. Singin' sweet songs, of melodies pure and true, sayin', This is my message to you

Whistling to BBC Radio 2, Shelagh bend over to see if her cake was even on top, deciding that it was as close to even as she was going to get it she picked it up and pushed it into the fridge one handed. Nina was lying up right, her head resting on her mother's chest, who was valiantly trying to cook lasagne without either dropping the baby in the mince or burning herself in the process, she heard the front door go and ran, as fast as one can with a baby koala gripping your cardigan tightly in its fists, to see her boys.

"Tim! Come here – give me a hug."

"Hi Shelagh."

"Oh look at you," Holding him at arm's length she surveyed him keenly, "well, you look like you could use some lasagne!"

"Yes! I'm sick of hospital food – except the jelly, jelly was cool."

"Here, Tim let me help you -" interrupted Patrick, leaning across to try and help Tim off with his coat.

"Dad, I'm not an invalid!"

"I'm pretty sure that right now you are the definition of an invalid."

"Och leave him be Patrick … it'll just make it more satisfying when he concedes that he does actually need help. Come on through – there's cake too."

"Awesome." Turning round to check that his father had run up the stairs to the toilet, Tim settled down on a kitchen chair and watched Shelagh for a moment, "Shelagh … can I have a little hold of Nina? It's been ages, she's so much bigger!"

"Yeah – yeah of course you can hold the bairn! You don't need to ask … in fact you'd be doing me favour, lasagne is not easy to make one handed." Checking that Tim was settled in the wooden chair, she gently leant down and passed over Nina to her stepson where she lay tucked up against the fabric of his hoody. Her small fists grabbing hold of one of the ties from the hood that hung down from his neck tightly, smiling down at his sister Tim looked up at Shelagh.

"She's lovely, it's weird, I haven't seen her in so long! She looks so …big."

"Babies grow, one of those annoying things, am I alright to carry on cooking? Are you OK with her? If you get tired …"

"Yeah alright. I said didn't I, I'm not an invalid!"

"You sound like your Dad now, I don't think you're an invalid … but I do think you've been discharged for all of 5 seconds and that'll take it out of anyone."

"Yeah … yeah I know. You know Dad doesn't want me to go back to school yet – he's worried I'm going to throw myself into a football tackle or something and end up back in hospital, but I'm not an idiot!"

"I know you're not Tim, your Dad's just worried – you're his son and the last few months have made him terrified of losing you. I pretty much had to force him at gun point to leave the hospital to eat and sleep … what do you want?"

"I want to go back to school, I want to see my mates … like, I know I can't have a kickabout yet but I want to see my mates, I want to do my work … I want to get my exams and stuff done. I don't want this to hold me back and then be all, like, bitter and stuff."

"Then that is what you need to tell your Dad, because those are reasoned and grown up and … sensible reasons for wanting to go back to school. And I think, if you told your Dad that he'd agree with you and see that you're not a little boy, and you don't need protecting from the world all of the time."

"Patrick, he's not a little child!"

"No, but he is my child and it's my job to protect him … which I've done a pretty lousy job of doing so far haven't I!"

"Patrick for Christ's sake it was an accident, a horrible accident yes, but an accident all the same. You can't tie him to the sofa in the hope that nothing ever hurts him again!"

"You don't understand, you're his step-mother – if this was Nina we were talking about you'd be on my side, then you'd understand."

"Oh really? You think that just because I'm not his mother I don't love him, or that I wasn't heartbroken and terrified when he was in hospital because I do and I was! I love him just as much as you, but unlike you I've actually talked to him. Patrick, he's not stupid and he's not a baby, he knows his own mind – and if you took the time to talk to him then you might realise that."

"Look Shelagh, I'm not saying that he's not got good intentions – that he wants to go back to school to get on with his work but really … is he really going to stay off the pitch? Or is he going to want to be like his friends, out there and mucking about?"

"Yeah he probably will want to go and have a kickabout, I'm not bloody disputing that Patrick, what I'm saying is that he's sensible enough to realise the consequences and not do it! Patrick – you're smothering him … you need to give him some slack."

"Look, Shelagh … you're not his mother, I want him at home because I'm his father and I need to know that he's safe. End of discussion."

"Again … again and again you can't bloody help yourself can you? Pulling bloody rank on me all the time, just because you and him share some DNA your word is final, I get zero say in the matter."

"No I just -"

"You just what Patrick? I love him just as much as you, I don't love him any less and I don't want what's best for him any less than you do. I want him to be safe too … but I also want him to be happy Patrick, and not for him to be holed up in the house, going slowly insane and drifting further and further away from his friends."

"And you think I bloody want that? You think I want him isolated from his friends and at a loose end? I'm not stopping him seeing his friends or doing his work – I just want him doing it under my roof where we can see him!"

"Patrick, he wants to be sat in the park with a bottle of cheap cider, he wants to be down the shops robbing pick-and-mix, he wants to see his friends playing football – he does not want to be sat with me, you and a newborn baby discussing the economy!"

"Leave it Shelagh – I'm not in the mood, my son's just home from hospital and I want to protect him, make sure that he's OK. I don't understand why you're arguing about this."

"Maybe you'll understand better after a night on the sofa."

"What?"

"Go on, sofa. You're not be in the mood for me, and I'm not in the mood for you hogging the duvet as I'm getting up every 3 hours for Nina."

"Oh love –"

"No, don't Oh love me Patrick, I'm not in the mood."

Julie pushed open the office door with the side of her foot, both hands occupied in carrying cups of tea, hidden behind a computer screen she could see the shoulders of Patrick Turner hunched over the keyboard.

"Knock knock." She said quietly, waiting for him to look up from his work,

"Oh Julie, hi. What can I do for you?"

"I have a favour to ask, there's a packet of chocolate hob-nobs that have been taunting me all day in my office that I need you to take off my hands!"

"Ah, you've come to the right place, tea as well? Is it my birthday?"

"You looked like you could do with one."

"I would stop for a chat, but I'm snowed under at the moment … sorry."

"You've time for a break though surely?" she said slyly, fixing him with a stern look, conceding after a moment Patrick smiled and nodded her towards the seat opposite him at the desk.

"I suppose I do yes – for you."

"I'm honoured … so … How are things at home with the baby?"

"You've been talking to Shelagh."

"No, why? Should I have been?"

"No I just … we had a bit of a row last night. I spent the night on the sofa, she doesn't understand."

"Understand what? It's always seemed to me that if anyone were capable of understanding anything it would be Shelagh."

"She's the most reasonable woman in the world but … but she's not Tim's mother. Which isn't her fault or a problem but in this case, as his father I've made a decision and … and she can't accept that, she just doesn't understand."

"What decision is it that you've made Patrick, that you think she doesn't understand?"

"Well after all this business with Tim I think it's better that he stays off school for a while, that he doesn't go out and muck about with his friends. You know what boys are like, he won't worry about his leg or his ribs – he'll be right in there in the scrum. And I want to keep my boy safe."

"I see."

"Oh god – don't do that to me Julie!"

"Do what?"

"Say 'I see' in that voice … it means that I'm wrong and that you're going to make me feel like crap and tell me exactly why I'm wrong."

"I wish I could disagree with you Patrick. Tim's a good boy, a sensible boy who would never make poor decisions with his health … Shelagh is devoted to him, and to you. She loves you, not many young women would take on a man and his teenaged son you know, but she did – she did because you two, and now Nina, make her happy. She loves you all completely and if she disagrees with you about letting Tim live a little, then it's not because she doesn't understand … it's because she doesn't worry about losing him. Because I know you do."

"I do, every day."

"Tim is not Clair, just like Shelagh isn't Clair and neither is Nina, every life is different and every life should be lived to the full, hang the fear and the consequences. You of all people should know that Patrick."

Patrick wearily put his bag down beside the kitchen table and emptied his jacket pocket onto the kitchen window sill, his wallet, mobile and keys making a small tower, Shelagh was sat at the kitchen table feeding the baby, silence filled the air apart from the noise of Nina suckling. Catching her eye Patrick made a small smile and took a deep breath,

"I'm a knob … I was being really horrible to you last night, sorry."

"OK … you were right, he's not my son, how could I possibly understand."

"No but Shelagh … I was being pig-headed, I wanted any excuse for you to be wrong, I know that you don't feel any difference between him and Nina and … you were right. Obviously I'm terrified of losing him." dropping down onto the chair diagonally from his wife, Patrick reached out to take her hand.

"I know, I know you are … but you're not going to lose him, he feels so blessed to have come out of all this in one piece, he's not going to be an idiot and throw it all away."

"I know. You're right, you are right. So ... I had a phone call on the way home, from Mikey Smith – Tim's scout leader."

"Oh?"

"He says he knows that Tim won't be up to joining in again anytime soon, but he wanted to know if he'd help out with the Beavers twice a week … arts and crafts and games and stuff. I thought that'd be good for him, what do you think?"

"I think that'd be really good for him … what about school?"

"I'll ring them on Monday and see about sending him back after half term, the casts and everything should be off by then."

"Well done, I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks ... sorry again for being … you know -"

"A pig headed stubborn dinosaur with no concern for my feelings? It's OK, that was last night – all forgotten."

"You're sure?"

"Well I could stay bitter and angry if you'd rather?"

"No no! Forgiven please – much safer."

"Forgiven it is then."