Hi de di! Here is my second one shot – sorry it's taken so long to get out!

This un-intentionally became a bit of a downer chapter, but I like to think the ending makes up for it a little.

For the record – the last part is unintentionally vague: I'll let you make your own minds up as to whether Shelagh's there.

Thank you as always for the fabulous reviews – you are all stars, and please do continue!

This chapters songs are:
Son of a preacher man – Dusty Springfield
A well respected man - The Kinks
Love how it hurts – Scouting for Girls

Enjoy!

"It is a … quarter past 3 in the morning, and you're listening to the Dark Lord, Alex Lester here on BBC radio 2, keeping all the night owls awake…"

Billy-Ray was a preacher's son and when his daddy would visit he'd come along. When they gathered round and started talkin', that's when Billy would take me walkin', a-through the backyard we'd go walkin'. Then he'd look into my eyes, lord knows to my surprise. The only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man

Reading the back of the packet as her bowl of pasta revolved around the microwave, Shelagh stifled a yawn and decided that a strong cup of coffee was in order. Standing up she felt her back tighten and stretched out onto tip-toes, pointing her fingertips to the ceiling, she had just spent the best part of two hours bent double over the bed, with a baby who didn't seem overly keen on being born. The microwave pinged and she rescued her bubbling pasta,

"Hi, how's your night going?" asked Cynthia, walking into the staff room and pulling on a hoodie.

"Long and fruitless – I've just sent my lady through for a c-section. Yours?"

"Long but successful, bloody massive though – 10lb 4!"

"Good God on highland! How is she?"

"More suture than perineum but she'll live, Dad's big, and she's pretty tall so it was never going to be a tiny one. Coffee? Did you have any stitches?"

"Please. No – I didn't get stitched, but it was a long labour and Nina was small."

"Well I suppose you're little aren't you, and Patrick's hardly Hulk Hogan."

"Very true – you'll be buggered, Miroslav's tall – and broad."

"I like to think I'll counteract Miroslav and we'll have an average sized baby."

"How is Miroslav? Is he enjoying the wedding preparations?"

"Umm … I think he likes the big things – like the cars and the food and the cake. I'm struggling to get him excited about napkins."

"No-one gets excited about napkins Cynthia, the guests wont care on the night – and you'll be too drunk to care by the time you see them."

"You think?"

"Pick a colour you like, and something non-descript that no-one can hate and you're sorted."

"You're so wise!"

"It's called experience; I can also tell you what colour clothes best hide baby vomit."

"I'll make sure HR get you a fob so you can let yourself in … uh, so these are our delivery suits, all equipped with a single bed, equipment for active delivery – and all have room and connection points to use one of our birthing pools – we've got two. Up ahead here we've got the nurses station, morning ladies." Said Dr Turner, nodding at the two woman who were sat behind the curving desk,

"Mornin' doc."

"Patrick."

"This is Dr Patience Mount, our new F1. And here we have two stalwarts of the maternity department; Trixie Franklin and Sister Julie Raymond." the young woman accompanied by Patrick smiled and shook both their hands.

"Good morning, and it's Patsy please – I think my parents were having a joke when they named me!" She replied with a dry laugh,

"Staff room's just behind the desk, and the door code's 1234 … we're not very imaginative here. And down to the left we've got Fred's cupboard."

"If you ever need anything quickly in this place, then Fred's your man." Added Julie with a smile as she gathered up a pile of papers and disappeared off into her office,

"Just don't ask where he found it! Beyond that you've got paediatric intensive care, Tom Bowler's the consultant – I'll try and get you in there for a week if you like?"

"Thank you."

"Now … down over to the right," he continued as he led her away from the nurses station, "we've got the Sister's office – that's where you'll find Julie if you need anything. Staff toilets by here … uh … if you use the one on the right you need to thump the cistern on the top to make it flush. And then my office." he finished, pushing open his door and ushering Patsy in to the small room. "I share with my SHO Dan, he's away on a course for the next week. You can use his desk until he gets back … although I'm not sure where his chair's gone … you know, use my desk and I'll go and get you a cup of tea, or coffee?"

"Coffee please, no sugar."

"Of course – just a moment." Left alone in the office, Patsy unbuttoned her coat and flung it over Dr Turner's chair before sitting down and surveying his desk, there were various print outs of memos and notes and a stethoscope hanging off the in-tray. A BMI calculator was stuck to the edge of the computer alongside a gestational week wheel, amid the medical organised chaos were four photographs.

Two were inside a wooden frame and were almost mirrors of each other; one looked about ten or 15 years old, and featured a younger Dr Turner, with thicker and darker hair, on a younger and less lined face cradling a new born baby with a shock of messy dark hair that mirrored his own. The second photo that shared the frame was far more recent, with an older Dr Turner who's face she knew, holding another new born baby, this time with a soft halo of fair hair that he was brushing with his fingertips, he was perched on the edge of a hospital bed, the shoulder of the bed's official occupant just visible in the edge of the picture. The frame beside it held a professional looking picture, of Dr Turner in a suit, stood outside a church beside a bride. Picking it up for close inspection she could see that it was a younger woman, by the looks of it too young to be the mother of the older baby picture. Perhaps his daughter? Maybe the second picture was of his grand child, she wondered. The fourth picture was clearly new, printed out on paper and blu-tacked to the edge of the computer beside the BMI chart. A teenage boy with dark hair, who looked the spitting image of Dr Turner, sat beside a toddler on a sofa, both engrossed in a book, the same fair haired baby that she had seen before perhaps. Confused she stood up and went for a look around the office just as Dr Turner returned,

"Coffee, no sugar for you and tea for me. Now … you've met Trixie and Julie, then there's Cynthia; she's been here a while – she's really lovely and she can talk you through the natural birth process – she's a big advocate for that. Shelagh, she's … well she's wonderful, and she runs the Royston clinic as well – which I know was one of the reasons why you chose us. So I'll try and get you down there for a couple of shifts. Then there's uh … Sister Evangalina, she's … an excellent midwife. Probably … stay out of her way."

"Why? Is she that bad?"

"Uh … no no … she's just …" Dr Turner sighed and perched himself carefully on the edge of Dan's desk. "They say they found her in the foundations of the hospital when they were building it. She's always been here, and she is a fantastic midwife, but she can be a little … brusque – and aside from anything else she really doesn't believe in doctors. We have our place and it's in emergencies – as far as she's concerned doctor's shouldn't be checking in on labours. I think she'd still have men sat outside nervously if she could. I mean – everyone else is called by their first name, but not Sister Evangalina – I don't even know what her first name is."

"Ahh … might stay out of her way then."

Hanging up, Patrick pocketed his phone and dragged a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and fumbled for a lighter, slipping behind the wheelie bins to get to the fire escape he bent down to light up and looked up as he stepped into the clearing catching the eye of a fellow smoker.

"Dr Turner!" She said in shock, making a quick movement to hide her cigarette,

"Oh Patsy, hello – didn't know you partook?"

"Terrible habit, should give up … sorry."

"Why are you apologising, we're both out here for the same reason." he replied with a laugh. "Although as a doctor I in no way condone smoking!"

"Obviously."

"Now – I just spoke to Shelagh, she's happy to take you for a few shifts at the Royston. She's on nights at the moment, so she'll check her diary tonight and find you some interesting shifts to work."

"Oh thank you, although I didn't mean for you to bother her while she's on nights."

"It's fine – Nina was due her immunisations today – so she was awake."

"Nina's her daughter?"

"Mmm – she's … 13 months now."

"How sweet, gosh it must be hard – a baby and a full time job. I can barely manage it and I've got no responsibilities at all!"

"I know – she's brilliant, but it's easier now she's sleeping through – I can't believe we managed when she was new born!"

"Sorry? We?"

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry – Shelagh's my wife, Nina's our little girl."

"Oh I see, so the photographs on your desk … sorry, I wasn't prying."

"No it's OK – it's no secret. Yes, that's Shelagh and the baby girl's Nina, and the boy's my son Tim. He's coming up to 16 now."

"I see – so she's not his mother? Sorry I'm prying again …"

"You're not at all, no I was widowed. But Shelagh's brilliant – she's a fantastic step mum to Tim and a brilliant mum to Nina … she makes no distinctions, which is what I find the most admirable."

"She sounds like quite a woman."

"She is. I'm a lucky man."

'Cause he gets up in the morning, and he goes to work at nine,and he comes back home at five-thirty. Gets the same train every time.'Cause his world is built 'round punctuality, it never fails. And he's oh, so good, and he's oh, so fine, and he's oh, so healthy in his body and his mind.

Patrick could hear the radio as soon as he opened the front door, as the smell of bolognaise drifted down the hallway he smiled and hung up his coat, as he turned around he was confronted with the smirking face of his son peeking out around the living room door.

"Evening Tim, you ok?"

"I'm fine – you're in trouble though!"

"Why? What have I done?"

"Shelagh's fuming with you, dunno why – but she's really pissed off."

"Oh god … what have I done?" Running a hand through his hair he gingerly walked into the kitchen where Shelagh was stirring a saucepan with the other hand squarely on her hip, she glanced up as he walked in but didn't smile,

"Evening love … how are you."

"Fine."

"Are you sure … you seem a bit …"

"A bit what? Tired?"

"I don't know … are you tired?" he ventured hopefully.

"Yes. I'm very tired. Because after I took Nina to the doctors for her immunisations, dropped her off at the crèche, came home and finally got off to sleep – you rang me to ask about your bloody F1! Woke me up – so I couldn't get back to sleep."

"Oh … sorry. I thought you'd be up anyway for Nina."

"You rang me at three in the afternoon! You know I'm on nights! You assumed that even though I was on last night, and on tonight, that I would be fine with taking Nina to the doctors! And then would be equally bloody OK with you waking me up to ask a favour for your F1!"

"I didn't think you'd mind."

"No Patrick – you just didn't think."

"Hang on love -"

"No, don't you love me Patrick. I'm pissed off. I just wish you'd use your head once in a while … I'm sick of being just a cog in the machine that is the Turner family."

"You're not a cog."

"Well I bloody feel like one at the moment … Kathy rang today."

"Right?"

"It's the 10 year memorial for Clare."

"Well that's OK isn't it? I mean … you're fine with that's aren't you."

"I'm fine with that it's just … Kathy doesn't want me there, she thinks it would be weird."

"What? Kathy said that?"

"Or words to that effect. She said that she was worried that I might feel a bit awkward if I had to sit there listening to everyone saying how wonderful Clare was and how happy you were together."

Patrick sighed and took a step closer, reaching out for his wife she shrugged him away and turned towards the sink, her back to him and started running the tap.

"I understand that she's Clair's sister and that I'm your second wife but … I'm a Turner, Nina's a Turner too and … I don't know. I'm just pissed off, pissed off at you for waking me up and assuming I'd be OK with it, pissed off at Kathy for trying to write me out of the Turner family and I'm pissed off at myself for being a bitter selfish cow – for being annoyed that my husband's dead ex-wife's sister doesn't want me at her sister's memorial."

"So generally pissed off then?"

"Generally pissed off yeah."

"Look Shelagh – Kathy likes you, she's always liked you! I think maybe she's trying to be tactful in a spectacularly untactful way."

"Yeah ... I need to go." She replied quietly, bending down she picked her rucksack off the floor,

"Shelagh," Patrick said softly, catching her wrist as she went to pass him, "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"It's OK, I'll check my diary tonight for your F1 … what was her name again?"

"Patsy … Patsy Mount."

"OK."

"I love you."

"I love you too." she replied with a half-smile, but left quickly without kissing him. Sighing as he heard the front door shut Patrick turned off the pasta and called through to the living room.

"Tim! Come and drain the spaghetti for me … I've got a phone call to make."

Removing her hand, Shelagh smiled broadly as she stripped off her glove and went to bin it,

"Well Chloe, your baby's starting to get a wriggle on!"

"Oh thank God! How is it looking down there?"

"Coming along nicely – we're up to 8cm I'd say."

"Does it always take this long?"

"And longer I'm afraid – babies are cruel, they like their mothers to go through the wringer a bit before they make an appearance. I'll be back in a little while – OK?"

"Ok – thanks." with another smile Shelagh left the room, collecting a bundle of notes on the way out. Slipping into the staff room she flicked on the kettle and sat down to fill in her paperwork, the ward was quiet tonight, or as quiet as it ever got. It gave her a little rest bite, and a chance to actually finish a cup of tea for a change. She felt a little guilty, she always did when she and Patrick argued, but things hadn't been good between them lately, and she tried to justify the argument to herself by arguing that it was better to get things out in the open rather than bottling them up to brew and fester.

Part of the problem was that she felt as though they were going through the motions, the spark and flair of their relationship had burnt out recently and she found herself more and more feeling like his lodger and less and less like his wife. She still loved him, completely and utterly, she knew that much at least, but – something had gone. The days of teasing and joking and passion had passed, and given way to silence and distance,

"Hi." looking around to see who her companion was she smiled broadly.

"Julie – hi, how are you?"

"I'm good, just waiting for the surgeons to be ready for my lady in 6. How are you?"

"Fine."

"No you're not … I know you."

"I'm fine, just tired."

"Not convinced," She said sternly, sitting herself down opposite her friend, "What's wrong Shelagh?"

"Nothing … nothing's wrong it's just … me and Patrick had a bit of a row."

"Oh dear, but nothing a night in with a Chinese and bottle of wine won't cure … or?"

"I'm sure you're right … we're just a bit … oh I don't know. Meh at the moment."

"Meh?"

"Like ships passing in the night, I just don't feel like his wife very much anymore."

"Because?"

"Because I never see him, and when I do, it's listening to him whinge about work, or watching him fiddling about with work on his laptop … and there's other things too."

"Such as? Did you want tea by the way?"

"Yes thanks, well … Kathy's doing a ten year memorial thing for Clare and … she doesn't want me there."

"Right … blimey. You know, Patrick thinks the world of you. But he is a man … and men are liable to be a bit rubbish from time to time, does he know how you feel about Kathy's memorial for Clare?"

"Yeah, that's how what the argument started."

"If I was being diplomatic I would say that it must be hard for Kathy, I mean as much as she likes you, you're her brother in law's new wife … as cruel as it sounds; she lost a sister, Patrick lost a wife, and Tim lost his mother – you lost nothing. And equally for Patrick – I can imagine him feeling a little guilty mourning the loss of his first love, with the love of his life on his arm … but if I am being honest, I know Patrick, and I know that he'll want you there for moral support when he goes to the memorial, and I know that Kathy, in her heart of hearts, knows that Clare would want Patrick to be happy, and that you make him happy."

"So … what's the answer?"

"There is no one answer I'm afraid my dear. But … don't fight with Patrick – this'll be horrible for him – and he needs your support. And hope that … whatever happens – it's the right decision for everyone."

I've been waiting, all my life for someone like you to come mess with my mind. Someone crazy, someone who, someone who'll love me the way I loved you. I keep searching and what's worse, now that you're gone all that's left is the hurt.

Shelagh pulled out her ipod earphones as she pushed open the front door, and wheeled in her bicycle. Resting it against the wall she hung up her coat and wandered into the kitchen, Patrick was stood against the kitchen counter in his work suit, nursing a cup of tea,

"Morning love, how was work?"

"Fine, long – but successful. How was your evening?"

"Quiet … I uh … tea?"

"Please."

"I spoke to Kathy last night."

"What? Really?"

"Mmhmm, I wanted to talk about Clare's memorial – and you coming. Because … I need you there. I'm not sure if this is what you want to hear but … I love Clare, I always did and I always will. But I love you too – I mean, you make me happy, you make everything better – and I never want to be apart from you because you are … wonderful. And I can't sit through Clare's memorial without you, and I don't want to have to -" Shelagh heard a lump rise in her husband's throat as he quickly glanced up at the ceiling. Stepping forward she ran a hand across his forearm and reached for his hand, "I know I've been a bit of a shitty husband lately."

"You haven't."

"No I have … I've been wrapped up in myself, and work and Clare and I've not been fair to you."

"No you haven't been fair, but neither have I … talk to me, when you need to – talk to me. Because other whys this happens and we're at each other's throats. What did Kathy say?"

"She said it was up to us essentially." he replied. Shelagh smiled, lacing her fingers through his she reached up to his shoulder with her free hand,

"So," she asked. "What do you want to do?"

"It's not my decision to make."

"I want to go – if you want me there. Julie said last night that you lost your wife and Tim lost his mother … and I didn't lose anyone. So if I'm going, I'm going to support you and Tim, not because it's my right to go as a Turner."

"She's a wise woman."

"I've never met a wiser one."

"It's been ten years since I lost my sister, ten years since I lost my best friend and ten years since I lost the kindest, most honest and most loving woman in the world. I miss her every day … and it never gets any easier. When Clare passed she left behind a wonderful son, Tim – who I know she would be so proud of to see sat here today, and her fantastic husband Paddy – who I know has done her proud in raising their son. Before I hand over to Paddy – I think it's time to raise our glasses: To Clare!"

"To Clare."

"Thank you Kathy … Clare was a wonderful mother, a wonderful wife, and a brilliant teacher. Professionally and personally there was no one else like her … one of a kind. The first gamble I ever took was asking her out, it was one of the best gambles I ever took, and I could never regret it. She was so full of joy and life and imagining a world without her is almost impossible … She loved life, and she was never happier than when she was making other people happy – Clare loved to spread joy and love to anyone and everyone she met, which is why … as hard as a life without her is, as impossible as it is to comprehend that that light and spark has disappeared from the earth … I know that she would be happy with the life I've made for me and our son Tim … A wise man once said 'happiness is the absence of pain' and as painful as it was, and is to have lost Clare … the balm that sooths is to move on and to continue with life, to find solace in the future and to love. So … in the interests of happiness, let's rid ourselves of pain – with Clare's favourite method: a large glass of white! To Clare!"