Author's note: I love writing Shelagh and Timothy (maybe even more than writing Shelagh and Patrick) This is just a missing scene between Shelagh and Timothy during Ep. 3.5, when Timothy is trying to spread his wings. This is after Shelagh starts working at Nonnatus, but before Tim gets his braces off.
"If you need anything, or if you get tired -"
"You'll be at Nonnatus, I know, you told me. Twice already." Timothy rolled his eyes. Shelagh gave him a stern glare in return, and he looked slightly chastened. She was slowly learning how to deal with her stepson's sarcasm and had found that channeling just a little of Sister Evangelina's toughness often helped, in more ways than one.
He's an 11-year-old boy, he needs to spread his wings, Patrick had said, and he was right. Timothy had come home from playing cricket yesterday breathless, excited and happier than she'd seen him in weeks. So they'd talked - all three of them - at dinner and agreed that Timothy could play out with the other boys, as long as they remained in sight of Nonnatus House, where Fred or one of the mothers, nuns or nurses could keep an eye out, just in case. This concession did a little to settle her worries though, and her stomach still twisted as they round the corner of Leyland Street and saw a large group of boys, engaged in some sort of roughhousing game.
"There's sandwiches and orange squash for lunch at home, but tell me before you leave and we'll walk back together," she said. "Or you can come to Nonnatus -"
"There's Jack. Bye!" He ran off as quickly as he could, hobbling a bit awkwardly because of his braces. But the other boys didn't seem to mind and quickly included him in their game. She smiled, a bittersweet mix of joy and pride filling her. He was growing up so fast. How long before he didn't need her at all anymore?
She went out at noon, just before Mrs. B laid out luncheon to see if Timothy wanted to come in - but he was nowhere to be seen. There were some of the other boys, still playing a game, but no Timothy. A cold panic filled her body and she fought the urge to rush into the street and demand to know the whereabouts of her son.
"Looking for Timothy?" Fred said from his post near the steps, where he was oiling the chains on some of the bicycles. He grinned. "Don't worry, Mrs. Turner. He just went home with young Jack for lunch."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you Fred." She turned and went back up the steps. She wanted to scold Tim when he got back for running off with Jack without telling her - but should she? She'd watched the mothers at clinics and none of them seemed particularly worried about their children's whereabouts once they left their prams.
Then again, those mothers often had several younger children to worry about as well, whereas she had one child. One child who was her responsibility, one child who she had wanted to care for long before she even realized she was in love with his father. One child, who, if anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself.
"I think you forfeited your right to lecture me or anyone else on the religious life."
Once Sister Evangelina had left the office, Shelagh took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. As happy as she was in her married life, there were certain things she missed about Nonnatus House - the quiet in early mornings, the singing in evening and morning prayers, the lively conversations with the sisters and nurses. But Sister Evangelina's temper? She didn't miss that at all. It had taken all of her patience not to burst into tears.
She'd been sitting in this office for too long, trying to make sense of the nursing rota and patient files. She just needed a break. If she were at the surgery and Patrick wasn't busy, she might have slipped into his office for a Henley, a chat and a stolen kiss, but here at Nonnatus the only vices available to her were a slice of Mrs B's cake and a cup of tea, and they would do for now.
She was surprised to find her stepson sitting in kitchen, fork poised over a half-eaten slice of almond sponge.
"Timothy? I thought you were playing. Are you feeling all right?" She placed a hand on his forehead, but he twisted away.
"I'm fine, I just got hungry." He sighed heavily and stabbed at the cake. "And Jack and Billy and everyone wanted to ride bikes and I don't have a bike and can't ride one anyway, so Fred said I could come in and have some cake."
"Oh, Timothy." She wanted to reach out and hold him, but she knew he'd push her away just now. Lately, she'd been lucky to get a hug and a kiss at bedtime.
Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea and sat down across from him. "You didn't have to sit here all by yourself. You could have come to find me."
"I don't mind. And you were busy," he said matter-of-factly.
How much of Sister Evangelina's tirade had he heard? She hoped he'd been too preoccupied with cake to hear her final words. She decided to play it off. "Well, I'm not busy now. Is there any of that cake left?"
He nodded. "I think so. Fred put the tin in the bread box, so Sister Monica Joan wouldn't find it."
She laughed as she rose to retrieve it. "I doubt that would have deterred her for long. If there is cake, she tends to find it."
She cut herself a slice and sat back down. "Fred told me you went to Jack's for lunch?"
"Jack said I could and his mum didn't mind –"
"Timothy, it's all right that you went to Jack's but you need to tell me first," she said firmly. "I went out looking for you at lunch. I was worried. I didn't know where you'd gone until Fred told me."
He looked down at his cake crumbs. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
She sipped her tea, considering. "And perhaps you should ask Jack over to ours for lunch one day, so we can return the favor." She gave him a teasing smirk. "I don't want Jack's mother thinking I don't feed you properly."
Timothy's expression brightened. "On Saturday?"
She set down her cup. "Not this Saturday, I'm afraid," she said gently. "We've got an appointment with the polio nurse, remember? To see about your legs and getting the braces off?"
"Oh. Right. Do I have to go?"
A dark cloud settled back over his features and she frowned, confused. "You were so excited about it at dinner yesterday. What's the matter?"
He shrugged. "I've just – what I can't do it? What if I always need braces? What if I'm always slow?"
A lump rose in her throat. She hadn't wanted him to be ill – never ill – but she had liked how much he had needed her over the past few months. Now she felt guilty, for wanting him with her so often. She scooted her chair over to his side of the table.
"Sometimes when we're ill - very ill, like you were - it just takes a longer time for us to heal and for things to get back to normal. It can be frustrating."
He nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Were you ever frustrated when you were in the sanatorium?"
"Frustrated. And scared." And confused. And lonely. But she didn't like to dwell on those months, especially now when she knew she still carried scars from her time there, and that things would never be "normal." She blinked back her tears, took another sip of her tea and focused her attention on her stepson.
"But I don't think you have anything to worry about. Six months ago you were too weak to stand on your own, and now you're playing cricket. You'll get the braces off, you'll walk on your own and you'll be beating the other boys soon," she said, making an effort to smile.
"I can already beat Jack," he said, with an impish grin and she chuckled.
There was the sound of quick purposeful steps in the hallway, and Sister Winifred appeared in the doorway. "Timothy Turner? Fred said you'd be in here. There's a boy outside looking for you."
His grin widened. "That'll be Jack." He stuffed the last piece of cake in his mouth. "Thanks Shelagh!"
He hurried from the table, clattering down the hall, and Shelagh heard the convent's large door open and slam shut behind him.
"Lovely boy," Sister Winifred said. "Such a shame about his legs."
She felt a well of protective anger rise in her chest – but the sister meant well, she reminded herself. She stood to return to her office, taking her tea and cake with her. "He'll be perfectly fine, Sister. Perfectly fine."