Northfield Chapter 5
I am giving Timothy the Jack's mild case of polio…..And Shelagh a passive-aggressive fit, as she is still a war victim with survivor's guilt.
The three-legged-race
"Come on, Nurse! Come on, Timothy! You can do it!" Doctor Turner was running and cheering on the sidelines of the three-legged-race. It was the Harvest Moon Festival in Poplar, and the three-legged-race was a legendary family sport there. Originally, Doctor Turner had been meant to participate in the race with Timothy. Unfortunately, he had been called out to a sickbed, so Nurse Mannion had taken his place. He had returned just in time for the time of the final run, Shelagh and Timothy having already won their two preliminary heats. They aced the final, too, although, in the end they stumbled over the finishing line.
Doctor Turner came over to help them get up off the ground.
"Timothy, you can't go anywhere yet. Hold still and don't move your leg." He smiled, embarrassed, at Shelagh. "Let's get this band off. " He became chivalrous and uncharacteristically nervous. "May I? Perhaps you'd prefer to unbind it yourself."
Shelagh was already fingering the knot. "Let me do it. My fingers are more suited to this."
He grumbled something under his breath. Shelagh wasn't sure, but it sounded like "those small, white elfin wings".
He remained bent down and watched over her as she unknotted the tie. Then they all stood up.
"There, Timothy, now you can go after your mates. But no more running. You know the Doctor's orders."
Shelagh watched Tim leave and turned to Doctor Turner, giving him a questioning look. "What Doctor's orders? Is Tim not feeling well?"
"He had polio a year ago. Not a very bad case, and the physical therapy was very effective. Still, he can't strain himself too much."
"And you let him take part in this three-legged-race? When you knew he would compete seriously?"
Doctor Turner was startled at her reproaching tone. "Nurse Mannion, it was safe enough. He is a twelve year old boy, and must be left to his own devices every now and then. He must be allowed to test his strength."
"Do you really think so? Is that being a responsible parent?" Shelagh felt her anger rise and she took a deep breath. She pressed a handkerchief in her hand hard to distract herself from a sudden urge to cry.
Only now did she notice that she had hurt her hand. So did Doctor Turner. "There's blood. You have hurt your hand when you fell. Damn."
"Oh, I am perfectly safe to be left to my own devices with that, Doctor," she snipped at him. "No need to amputate." She turned her back to him and hurried away toward the surgery.
She heard him say sharply: "Nurse Mannion! I didn't mean….Oh blast."
She was seeking a bandage in the cupboard when she saw him standing at the door. "You may not think much of me as a parent, but as a Doctor might I suggest that you clean the wound with water first? Then I could help you disinfect it, I brought spirit with me." He showed the bottle in his hand, and he wore a very humble hang-dog expression.
"All right. I will wash the wound first." She held her hand under the running cold water. The sounds of water running, children shrieking and the general hum of the bonfire party from the alley created a magic circle around them. Dusk had settled and in the eerie light, he stood there by the sink and watched her in silence, his fist under his chin like a meditating gnome. She stopped the water, dried her hands and offered the injured hand for him to inspect.
"Hmmm." He had put a dosage of spirit onto a cotton pad. "This may sting a little". Shelagh felt the coldness of alcohol, but the hand that held hers was warm. She could feel his pulsing veins against hers while he kept her hand still. The odour of spirit and the odd intimacy of his ministrations made her dizzy. Now he was bandaging her hand, tying the knot a little too tightly. She heard herself let out a little cry.
"Too tight?" He loosened the bandage. "But it must be properly protected."
He let go of her hand, at last. Leaning against the desk, he started to talk. "I didn't mean to hurt you and I had no intention of letting Timothy hurt himself. And I don't think he did, Timothy knows his limits. Unlike his father, who is much more inclined to….be pushy."
His appearance of helplessness and regret was rather appealing.
He furrowed his brow and covered his mouth as if wishing to hide his face from her. He smiled wanly: "I like your friendship with Timothy. He needs adult friends." He cleared his throat. "I'd like us to be friends too. I need….I mean, I don't have many friends."
He offered his hand to her. "Truce?"
Shelagh took his hand. His grip was light, as if he was still afraid she would jolt. "Truce."
He turned abruptly and left, as was his manner. Shelagh watched his broad shoulders retreating. She felt that her world, which had been so enlarged after her arrival at Nonnatus House, was shrinking again. All the kingdom and all the glory she had ever needed was now focused on those broad shoulders.