Good evening/morning/afternoon and welcome to chapter 50!
I must say, I really like this chapter, I enjoy writing Tim – he's fun to write, (almost as fun as Lila was!) so I tried to include a bit more Tim in this chapter, it really stems from an interview with who said that Tim was a young boy who wants to be out and about, my Tim's a bit older than TV Timothy and obviously in a modern setting he's going to behave differently, so I've tried to translate this a bit for my fic.
Thanks again for your reviews, I love getting them – so if you have the time, please do review!
This chapter's song is:
Piece of my heart – Janis Joplin
Enjoy x
"Hi love, uh – have you seen Tim?"
"Uh, well I saw him this morning but -"
"No no, I meant … I'm at school now to pick him up, but he isn't here. I wondered if he went home?"
"But … it's 5 to 4 Patrick, how long have you be waiting?"
"No I just got here ten minutes ago, I was running late from the clinic. So he's not at home?"
"No, he's not in the shop or anything with his mates is he?"
"No I checked. Oh for Christ's sake – where is he?!"
"Calm down Patrick, he's a big boy – he'll be fine. Did you ring his mobile?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And it was answered by a teacher – it was confiscated during French."
"Right. Do you need to go back to the hospital?"
"I do really but -"
"No buts Patrick, you go off to work – I'll ring you if he comes home."
"But what if he's run off somewhere?"
"Patrick, he's a teenage boy. He'll be messing about in the shopping centre or … I don't know, stealing top shelf magazines to read in the park or something."
"Shelagh! He's not that old thank you very much."
"Really Patrick – weren't you ever 14?"
"Yes, and I was sat in my fathers shed reading back copies of the Lancet!"
"I'm sure you were too. Look – he'll be fine, if he isn't home by … 6, then I'll ring you OK?"
"Oh alright – I suppose you're right."
"I am. And I'll ring round his friend's too – see if any of them are missing too, because pound to a penny they'll all be out together."
"I know, I know … I just worry."
"Yes, you do! Now go on with you, I've got a colicky baby to deal with."
"Alright, love you."
"I love you too."
Shelagh sighed, feeding Nina now was the first sit down she'd had all day, the house was tidied up, tea was made and she had made a set of notes to go over with Dr Morgan-Evans with in the morning about the Royston clinic. Keeping busy was keeping her sane, but it was also stopping her worry about Tim, as much as she tried to be cool and calm with Patrick, she was worried too. But since his stint in hospital Patrick was terrified of everything Tim did, and Shelagh felt it her duty to try and give him as much independence as possible – which in this case, she was fairly sure involved stopping Patrick sending out helicopter search teams to hunt his son down.
Resting a mug of tea on her knee with one hand, she tried manoeuvre the other to stop it going numb while not un-latching Nina at the same time. Why, she wondered, was the human body not equipped with a shelf to support a breast-feeding baby without getting cramp in your arm? Checking her watch, she willed Tim to come home, Patrick didn't need the stress of Tim going AWOL, and she didn't fancy listening to another one of their blazing rows. Another row that she felt she couldn't participate in, not that she particularly wanted to, for fear of driving Tim away. She would have waited until quarter past, or even half past before giving in and ringing Patrick, but he called her, on the dot of 6pm, to find out if Tim had come home.
"Well?" He asked, sharper than he had intended, the moment Shelagh lifted the phone off the cradle, he winced as he heard the wounded tone of her voice and punched himself inwardly for being cruel. He knew that she was still struggling with becoming a step-mother to Tim while being a mother to Nina,
"No. No sign."
"Right, well I'm ringing the police."
"Patrick, you're being ridiculous! He's not a child; he's not going to have been lured back to some perverts car on the promise of sweets and puppies."
"No – but he's not match fit, anything could have happened!"
"Before you ring the police and have the whole of the Met out looking for him, why don't you go into town, go round the shopping centre and the park and all the other places he goes with his friends. Because when you ring the police, they'll tell you to do the same."
"Yeah … yeah you're right, did you get anything from his friends?"
"I rang round, some were at home and said they knew nothing, and some hadn't got back from school yet. So I'm guessing he'll be out with some of them."
"Yeah … yeah. OK … sorry."
"Don't apologise, just be sensible. See you soon."
"Bye love." pocketing his mobile, Patrick took the last drag of his cigarette and crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe. The car was, for once, in one of the coveted edge spaces of the hospital's staff car park, which meant that he could slip out without enduring the messy sprawling one way system. He liked BBC radio 2 as he drove, but he didn't have the energy or the temperament for music today, on the one hand he was terrified that something had happened to Tim, ever since his fall and his consequential hospital stay he had been worried about Tim, not just his health but scared of him falling under a bus, or having some accident. On the other hand, he knew that Shelagh was right, and that in all probability Tim was off with friends, messing about and he was furious that his son would be so adolescent and immature as to not care about how much worry he was causing.
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man - yeah! And didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can? Honey, you know I did! And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough, but I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough. I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it, take it! Take another little piece of my heart now, baby! Oh, oh, break it!
Shelagh was ready to scream, ready to run away and leave the baby behind just to escape the incessant crying, in the last couple of days Nina's colic had reached a head of vomiting and screaming and Shelagh wasn't sure how much more she could take. The radio was barely audible over the baby, but she kept it on because it reminded her of the world outside her front door, a world where people made rational decisions and had the time and quiet to order their thoughts. The slam of the front door told her all she needed to know, Tim was home, safe and sound, and Patrick was fuming. The sad angry figure of Tim walked into the kitchen first, followed the stomp of his father, stealing herself for the rage and arguing that was about to begin she switched off the radio and sighed, looking between the two of them.
"You're home." She said, switching Nina to the other shoulder in an attempt to quieten her down,
"He is." replied Patrick throwing his keys onto the kitchen table and stalking his son with folded arms. "You were right, I found him in town! In Subway."
"Oh … good. Safe and sound."
"In Subway with a bloody girl, loves young bloody dream!"
"Patrick, calm down."
"Calm down! Calm … Shelagh, I've been worried sick. I've been imagining all the things that might have happened to him, and there he bloody is, out with some young girl! What have you got to say for yourself Tim eh?" A silence filled the kitchen as Patrick continued to stride around angrily and Tim stood shiftily near the door, before his head snapped up quickly to face his father,
"Why don't you care about what I want!? What makes me happy!? You only care about them now!" came the sudden burst of bile from the teenage boy. The whole room froze as the weight of Tim's words hung in the air like smoke that lingered, curling it's tendrils around the family, and breathing unevenly with the shock of his words Tim looked across at Shelagh, whose gaze had dropped to the floor. He opened his mouth to say more before shutting it quickly and turning sharply on his heels to go upstairs,
"Patrick," said Shelagh softly, she knew that Tim's words would hurt her husband far more than they hurt her. "go after him."
"What? No – I'm not going after him. He can stew."
"Then you take Nina and I'll go after him."
"Leave him Shelagh; I won't have him speaking like that to you."
"He didn't say it for my benefit, he said it for yours. He said it to upset you, and he knows that he managed because he ran off."
"Jesus Shelagh, I do my best. I mean I'm not going to win father of the year any time soon, but I do my best."
"And he knows that, he knows that you care … it's just maybe you care too much about keeping him safe, and not enough about what he wants and needs."
"He's my son, my little boy Shelagh, and today I was terrified that something terrible had happened to him."
"I know." She replied, reaching out with her free hand to touch his hip lightly, "And I understand Patrick but … but he's a teenage boy, he's not going to follow every single rule and take every bit of advice. Frankly I think we'd both be disappointed if he did!"
Patrick smiled, leaning forward he kissed her briefly on the lips, avoiding crushing the slightly less vocal Nina expertly,
"You, Shelagh Turner, are a very wise woman."
"I try, although I don't have all the answers you know. You are going to have to talk to him, tell him that you don't only care about me and Nina."
"I know."
"And … and one of us will have to talk to him about his girl-friend, or whatever she is too."
"Really?"
"He's 14 Patrick – trust me, that is a conversation that needs to happen!"
"Oh Jesus … I remember when he used to sit on the kitchen floor driving tractors around!"
"He's growing up, and just think – in 15 years time you can stand at the front door with a kitchen knife threatening Nina's boyfriend's if they break her heart."
"I can hardly bloody wait!"
Julie sat in her office cursing everything and everyone as she stared dismally at the computer screen, she loved her job, but lately the onslaught of paperwork and meetings and the ever looming targets and deadlines was beginning to get her down. A knock at the door brought her to her senses and clearing her throat she called out,
"Come in … hi Dan, everything OK?"
"Hi Julie, yeah yeah – I spoke to Dr Morgan-Evans, the consultant that I was telling you about in Cardiff."
"Oh uh, Em- something or other."
"Mmm, Emlyn that's him. He spoke to Shelagh this morning about the Royston clinic, it's a model that's not really being used in midwifery at the moment you see, but Emlyn wants to make clinics like the Royston standard practice!"
"Blimey, are you sure he's not getting a little ahead of himself? There's a big difference between running one clinic in East London and running one everywhere in the UK."
"Dream big Julie, obviously it's not going to happen overnight! But that doesn't make it not worth trying."
"Oh to be young and full of energy."
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, just one of those days."
"That's not like you Julie, come on – I'll take you to the refurbished bit downstairs, there's a really overpriced coffee shop, but according to Jenny the carrot cake is amazing."
"Alas, we both have work to do Dan."
"You can take a break, and if they need me – they can bleep me! I won't take no for an answer." The young man replied firmly, standing up he held out the crook of his elbow and waited patiently for Julie to stand up, with a resigned sight, and take him arm.
Patrick was working late, a major and highly unpopular re-shuffle of the maternity departments in Greater London was planned for the next year and everyone was being pulled in to have tense, sweaty, coffee fuelled meetings constantly. In a way Shelagh was a little envious of everyone readying themselves for war against the government, while at the same time she was a little relieved that she could stay out of it all, and pretend she was Swiss, politics was the one thing she didn't miss about the unit or her clinic. He had texted her briefly that morning to say that; a) he wasn't having an affair, but he would be back late, and b) that on her advice Tim was going to catch the bus home with his friends. So when she heard the front door bang, she knew automatically that it would be Tim, he didn't come into the living room where she was sat cross legged on the carpet, writing out a set of notes on the coffee table, but she heard the familiar clatter-bang of a glass in the kitchen and the woosh of the tap which told her he was making a drink.
"Mines a gin and tonic!" She called through the doorway, the bang of surprise echoed loudly and his face popped out into the doorway,
"You made me jump, I thought you were upstairs or something!"
"No, Nina is – but I'm just doing a bit of work while she's asleep."
"But I thought you were on maternity leave?"
"Well I am but there's a doctor in Cardiff who's interested in my clinic, wants to make places like the Royston standard practice all over the UK."
"Aren't they already? I mean hasn't Dad always worked with people with problems?"
"Yeah, but we're the only hospital in the country with one specific service for; under 18's, substance misusers and those with STI's. We do all the ante-natal appointments in one clinic, with people who are trained specifically in these kinds of cases, the women trust us because we don't judge, and they get the best care because we specialise. It also means that we can liaise with social workers, health visitors, the police and the rest to make sure they get all the support they need."
"But that makes sense – why is that not like … standard?"
"Lord alone knows! Ask David Cameron – he's the one cutting all our funding!"
"He's a bit of a dick really isn't he."
"Yup. Pretty much … did your Dad come to speak to you last night? I fell asleep."
"Yeah – kind of. Like – he told me that he only wants what's best for me and all that crap."
"It's not crap Tim, he loves you, we both do – your Dad's just scared, which makes him a poor decision maker."
"I know."
"So … who's the girl?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
"Oh … no-one."
"Go on."
"Her names Megan, she's brilliant at chemistry … and she's got dead nice hair!"
"Well … both excellent qualities in a girl, she's in school with you?"
"Yeah. Yeah – she broke her arm so she can't do PE either."
"Oh how sweet!"
"We call ourselves The Cripple Alliance!"
"Oh how … nice … I suppose. Do we get to meet her?"
"No! I'm not letting Dad meet her, he'd never let me live it down!"
"Very true … yeah, hide her from your father for now, give the girl a fighting chance eh?"