The days and nights in Poplar were a whirlwind. Nurses and nuns tirelessly attended to the needs of mothers in labour, while also caring for patients in their homes. The workload seemed endless, growing heavier with each passing day.
Dr Turner was no exception to this chaos. Sister Bernadette has observed him driving through Poplar, his exhaustion evident in the lines on his face.He works far too hard, she thought, her heart aching for him.
That day, however, Sister Bernadette had a rare afternoon off. She decided to take a calming walk through the local streets, hoping to clear her mind from the busyness of her duties. Lost in thought, she suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Hi Sister Bernadette!" It was Timothy Turner.
"Hello there, young Timothy! How are you this afternoon?" she replied with a warm smile. Timothy's cheerful spirit always brightened her day.
"I'm well! I was just about to ask Dad for some money for fish and chips," he said with disappointment creeping into his voice. "He's working late again."
Sister Bernadette felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. "Your father is very busy, Timothy. I'm sure he doesn't like it any more than you do," she reassured him gently.The poor boy, he sounds so sad and lonelyshe thought.
Timothy sighed deeply, "I just wish it was different… I wish Mum was still here." At that moment, he looked so much younger than his nine years.
Without hesitation, Sister Bernadette opened her arms wide and invited him in for a hug. As he embraced her tightly, warmth flooded through her heart; she wished nothing more than to see him happy again. She wished she could make things better for him, all she wanted was to see him and his father happy and thriving.Oh, what I would do to be the one to always be putting a smile on this beautiful boy's face.
An idea struck her—she could take Timothy home and cook dinner together, instead of him eating takeaway all by himself. It might be against protocol for a nun to miss dinner and compline at Nonnatus House, but couldn't this act be seen as part of her duty? One look from Timothy convinced her; this was indeed the right thing to do.
"How about this? I have the evening off! Let's go get some money from your dad and then head to the market to pick up ingredients for dinner, then you and I can cook together" The words spill out before she could second-guess herself.
"Really? That would be smashing!" Timothy exclaimed joyfully as he grabbed her hand and started running toward Dr Turner's surgery.
"Slow down Timothy! We have plenty of time!" Sister Bernadette laughed as they made their way there together.
When they arrived at Dr Turner's surgery, Timothy rushed inside calling out for his father. "Dad! Are you here?!"
"In my office! Is everything alright?" Dr. Turner responded as he stepped out to greet his son.
"Sister Bernadette! What a surprise!" His eyes widened with genuine curiosity as they locked gazes momentarily—a spark ignited within her chest that took her by surprise.
While Timothy excitedly explained their plan, she felt flustered under Dr Turner's gaze.
They stared at each other. She could feel the unmistakable heat coming up her face, and the feeling of excitement fluttering around in her stomach. As she took in Dr Turner's appearance, she noticed he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His strong muscular arms, now exposed, made her heart race unexpectedly. His waistcoat made him look put together, and his hair, untidy and flopping into his face, just made him look more charming. His beautiful expressive eyes, his full lips that like to curl up on one side for a smile. Suddenly she felt far too hot, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach and something was throbbing down low –what is happening to me?she thought.
"Oh! That's very kind of you," Dr Turner said softly after hearing their plan but added quickly: "I know we discussed this recently, but please don't feel obligated."
"It's no trouble at all! I ran into Timothy during my walk…" She found herself stammering slightly under his scrutiny but pushed through with determination.
As they discussed arrangements further, their fingers brushed when Dr Turner hands over some money—an electric jolt shot up her arm making her pull back instinctively.
Dr. Turner looked surprised too.Did he feel it as well?Shaking off the momentary confusion, she assured him that it will be enough money before heading out with Timothy once more.
Hand-in-hand again on their way to the market, they shared laughter and stories. Timothy animatedly recounted details about school projects while she listened intently.His enthusiasm is infectious!
At the market stalls filled with fresh produce and meats, she decided on ingredients not just for that night but enough meals to last throughout the week. She wanted them both taken care of properly during these long nights ahead.
Upon walking back to Dr Turner's house, Timothy reached under the pot plant out the front and retrieved a key to unlock the front door. He put the key back before fully opening the door and allowing Sister Bernadette to walk through.
Entering Dr Turner's flat—a place Sister Bernadette had never been before—she felt an odd sense of belonging wash over her as they entered together side by side into the kitchen.
Cooking became an effortless dance between them. Chopping vegetables turned into playful banter while stirring pots led to shared laughter echoing off walls. Walls that were filled with silence only moments ago—a reminder of how lonely life can sometimes be without companionship or family nearby…
After enjoying dinner together—sharing stories over steaming bowls of stew—it came time for bedtime rituals.
She tucked Timothy into bed, wrapping him snugly in his covers. The warmth of the moment lingered in the air as she read him a few medical articles from The Lancet. Timothy's eyes sparkled with curiosity, and for a brief moment, they shared a world filled with knowledge and dreams.
After closing the magazine, she gazed at Timothy. He looked so peaceful, nestled in his bed. His even breathing filled her heart with an unexpected rush of love. "Goodnight, my sweet boy," she whispered softly, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead before turning off the lights and closing the door behind her.
As she descended the stairs, Sister Bernadette glanced at the clock—8:30 PM. Dr Turner was due home by 9:00 PM. With purpose, she entered the kitchen to prepare meals for him and Timothy for the next few days. Each chop of vegetables felt like a step deeper into her daydreams.
She imagined herself in a different life—a life where she was Timothy's mother and Dr Turner was her husband.
In this daydream, every evening unfolded like a cherished ritual. Dinner was always warm and inviting, with laughter echoing through their cozy home. After dinner, they would sit together at the table while Timothy tackled his homework, his little brow furrowed in concentration. She could almost hear the sound of pages turning and pencils scratching against paper.
Her fantasy painted vivid scenes: Dr Turner arriving home late but smiling broadly at the sight of her waiting for him on the settee—a picture of domestic bliss that made her heart flutter. She envisioned standing to greet him, feeling his strong arms wrap around her waist as he pulled her close.
The thought sent warmth rushing through her veins as she imagined their lips meeting—his kiss gentle yet fervent, igniting sparks between them. In this moment, everything felt right; their lives intertwined in love and companionship.
Suddenly jolted from her reverie by the sound of the front door slamming shut, she heard Dr Turner call out for Timothy. Heat rushed to her cheeks as reality crashed back in—what had she been thinking? Silly girl!
Dr Turner entered the kitchen with surprise etched on his face upon seeing Sister Bernadette still there. "Sister! I didn't think you would still be here!" he exclaimed.
Flustered but determined to maintain composure, she replied quickly, "Hello Dr Turner! I hope your rounds went well." She continued explaining how she had fed Timothy and tucked him into bed before adding that she was preparing meals for them both.
Dr Turner leaned against the door frame; admiration clear in his eyes as he watched her work diligently in the kitchen. "Sister," he said slowly, "I don't know how I could possibly thank you enough for all this…you really are quite something."
"Oh, it's nothing much. I've left some stew in the oven for you to have for dinner," she replied modestly while trying to sidestep around him to leave.
But then he reached out and gently grasped her arm—his touch sent an electric thrill up her spine. The warmth radiating from his hand made it hard to think straight; feelings stirred within her that were both exciting and terrifying.
"Wait Sister," he murmured softly, almost pleadingly. "Please stay…"
Despite knowing she should leave—knowing how easily one could slip beyond boundaries—she found herself captivated by his earnest gaze and longing expression.
"Please," he continued softly, "I would love your company at dinner tonight... It's been so long since I've had someone else other than Timothy to talk to over a nice warm meal."
His words melted away any remaining resolve within her, like ice under sunlight. They resonated deeply within her heart.
"Okay, I'll stay" she whispered back barely above a breath's volume, feeling drawn into an uncharted territory between duty and desire.
And just like that—a simple invitation transformed their evening into something more profound than either could have anticipated; two souls finding solace together amidst life's chaos.
Sister Bernadette stood in the cozy kitchen, her heart racing. She felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her as she watched Dr Turner pull his bowl of stew out of the oven. The aroma of the stew filled the air, mingling with her swirling thoughts.
"Are you hungry, Sister?" he asked, his eyes bright with expectation.
"Oh no, Dr Turner," she replied softly, "I already ate with Timothy earlier." Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Then let me at least make you a cup of tea while we sit down," he called out, turning his back to her as he filled the kettle.
Standing in the warm kitchen, Sister Bernadette felt awkward. She fidgeted with her hands while Dr Turner busied himself. "Why don't you take a seat at the table? I'll join you shortly," he suggested gently.
As she turned toward the table, an unexpected feeling washed over her. It felt right to be here—an intimate space shared with him. For years, she had dedicated herself to God and felt unwavering in that commitment. Yet now, sitting across from Dr Turner as he prepared to eat dinner made her question everything.
How I wish I could reach over and hold his hand…
Just then, Dr Turner looked up and smiled—a breathtaking smile that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Sister, this stew is incredible! Thank you so much! I've learned a lot about taking care of Timothy and the house but cooking still eludes me!" He chuckled lightly.
She giggled along with him, recalling Timothy's playful stories about his father's culinary disasters. "Oh yes! Timothy was telling me all about your attempts in the kitchen!"
Dr Turner blushed slightly and protested playfully, "Don't believe everything that boy says! These hands are quite capable!"
Her gaze fell on his large hands—strong and capable indeed. Suddenly lost in a fantasy, she imagined those hands caressing her skin gently; fingers exploring every curve as they moved closer together…
Abruptly jolted back to reality by the warmth of his touch on hers, she blinked in surprise. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern etched across his face.
Feeling heat rise to her cheeks at their contact, she stammered out an excuse. "Oh yes! Sorry! I was just…" Words failed her as tingles spread where their skin met.
"Are you feeling alright Sister? You seem very flushed" Dr Turner looks at her with concern, his hand suddenly removed from her own, only to place his hand on her forehead to check her temperature.
"I'm fine!" she insisted quickly to redirect him from noticing how flustered she felt.
"Hmm," he murmured thoughtfully after checking for fever on her forehead despite denying any illness earlier.
"How is Mrs. Low?" she asked hastily when silence stretched between them like an unspoken tension.
"She's fine," Dr Turner replied slowly after studying her face for a moment longer than necessary before continuing cautiously about Mrs. Low's uncomplicated pregnancy.
The conversation faded into silence again as Dr Turner finished eating and pushed aside his bowl before standing up and gesturing for Sister Bernadette to join him on the settee.
With shaky legs and lingering guilt from earlier thoughts swirling in her mind like autumn leaves caught in wind gusts, she followed him nervously to sit down beside him on the soft cushions.
Dr Turner turned away briefly to place a record onto the player; soft music soon filled their small world—a gentle backdrop for their shared moment of contemplation.
"Sister…" he began softly once settled beside her on the settee "Are you sure you're, okay? You know I'm always here if you ever need someone to talk to."
Feeling flustered again under his gaze, she looked up into Dr Turner's eyes—captivated by emotions swimming in those beautiful brown depths—her heart raced even faster than before.
"I…" Words escaped her; uncertainty gripped tightly around her throat like a vice.
Once more reaching out gently to hold her hand, he said earnestly: "I care for you greatly Sister; if there is anything I can do… please do not hesitate."
Overwhelmed by emotion surging through every fibre of her being, she pulled away suddenly and stood up from the settee with urgency coursing through every step she took backward away from him.
"I'm so sorry if I crossed a boundary!" Dr Turner began but stopped short when she interrupted him breathlessly:
"I think it is time for me to return to Nonnatus—to where I belong." Her voice trembled as she turned away from him slowly.
As she walked out of his flat into late evening air filled with confusion and regret swirling within like storm clouds threatening rain overhead—She could have sworn she heard Dr Turner's quiet voice call out after her: "You'll always have a place here with me Sister."
Quickly making way toward Nonnatus House while tears threatened overflow down flushed cheeks—she ascended stairs leading up towards refuge yet found no solace within herself amidst conflicting feelings battling fiercely inside heartstrings entwined together tightly now unravelling slowly under pressure…
Shutting bedroom door behind herself firmly shut off world outside—it became just too much—the weight pressing down upon shoulders heavy enough already
Sister Bernadette crawls into bed, habit and all, and starts to cry. Her chest heaves with the strength of her tears, as she soaks her pillow.
Unable to calm herself down, she continues to cry well into the early hours of the morning before exhaustion takes over and she falls into a fitful sleep. Her dreams filled with Him and a certain Doctor.