#call the midwife fanfic

[thatginchygal]

New 1/7/24!

Chapter 3 in which it’s the morning after sharing the one bed…

Thank you to the bestest bestie beta ever @fourteen-teacups !!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[deepdowninmybones]

[hmg98]

I need to know who wrote ‘The Nun’!

Because MY GOD! I’m hooked and can’t put it down!!

There’s so much going on in my brain and it’s so well written!

[kayla47]

[rachelanne2018writes]

Vignettes of Love: Echos of the Past

SPOILERS: Season 13, Episode 4 (You've been warned!) :)

TW: Incurable Illness, Fear of Said Illness.

This was born out of me thinking that surely Patrick would be concerned that Shelagh's TB could reactivate from its latent stage if an epidemic of TB began in the Burrow.

You'll have to let me know your thoughts- especially of my "Mature Jenny" ending. :)

Final Warning! This Chapter contains Spoilers for Season 13, Episode 4 of Call The Midwife. It ALSO contains triggers for Incurable Illness and Fear of said Illness.

Mycobacterium Tuberculosis 

Two words Patrick Turner hoped were on their way out of the catalog of potential diagnoses. A decade prior when he’d diagnosed Shelagh, or Sister Bernadette of the Order of Saint Raymond Nonnatus as she was then known, with Tuberculosis it was such an unfortunately common illness that sanatoriums and the triple treatment were well known amongst the communities it ravaged. 

Now, in 1979 a relatively new testing process and vaccination for Tuberculosis was making its way through neighborhoods as the National Health Service provided funding and supplies to, hopefully, make TB an illness of the past- just as Jonas Salk’s polio vaccination largely eradicated the polio that made his own son Timothy so sick at the end of 1958. 

Yet here he was- diagnosing not one singular patient, but a whole family with small children with the blasted disease. It was heartbreaking, especially with the father succumbing to the illness so shortly after diagnosis. 

Suddenly, his mind turned back to Shelagh. It had been over 15 years since her last post-treatment appointment- as the standard was set at 5 years of active monitoring from the time of triple treatment completion. 

While active the disease had ravaged her body, including the pelvic organs, but what if her immune system was minutes away from failure? 

Would the disease reactivate and threaten Shelagh’s life again? 

Would the TB that she successfully fought off 20 years prior be the cause of an untimely demise? 

Patrick needed to see her. He needed to know that his wife, his beloved Shelagh, was safe. He also needed to find a way to tell her that TB was back in the burrow. But how would he tell her without worrying the children?  Sure, Timothy could handle the situation as not only was he training to be a doctor like Patrick himself, but he’d been through Shelagh’s initial infection from a distance. But Angela, May, and Teddy were not even born during that time. 

How would they tell Angela, May, and Teddy what was going on? 

How would they as a family handle the potential treatment?

What would Shelagh’s treatment look like?

Would Shelagh need to go back though the full Triple Treatment?

Would the hospital allow Shelagh to have visitors?

There were too many questions, and too many hours of work to go that day to spend energy on worrying about the potential answers.

It was late that night when Patrick arrived home, thankfully to Shelagh waiting up for him as she often did, and the children (including Timothy) sound asleep in their beds. 

“Patrick, you look as though you’ve had a horrid day” Shelagh’s sleepy voice, heavily laced with a Scottish accent- which often happened when she was tired.

For a moment alll he could do was nod. The image of the Chidozi family, with Felix laying dead on the floor surrounded by his wife and children. 

“Shelagh, Tuberculosis- it’s back in the Burrow”

“Oh Patrick, surely it’s just one small instance”

“It might be, but that poor family has to deal with the loss of their husband and father.”

“A Family, I take it.”

“Yes, a brand new Poplar family with four small children. It’s a wonder that the eldest two were in the TB Screening and Vaccination Scheme.”

“It’s a relief to know that because they were involved in such a vital programme. Besides, there are four children with bright futures, and their father will surely watch over them.”

Patrick Turner couldn’t hold in his fears any longer. 

“Shelagh, I worry about you. What happens if TB is widespread again. You’re at risk of the disease reactivating. What if we don’t know and…” he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish that thought.

“Oh Patrick, we take every precaution we can- including all of the recommended and required screenings and vaccinations to protect my health from a relapse of TB. Besides, although it is a formidable foe, we have more screening and treatment tools and techniques than x-ray vans and triple treatment courses in the isolated country sanatoriums.”

“Shelagh,”

“It’s alright Patrick, we- alongside Nonnatus House are providing a robust educational program to all of our patients on TB. But no matter what, we will get through this together.

“Just like we always do.” They said together.

Despite the best efforts of the National Health Service, and the rapid advancements in medicine, the challenges, in Poplar and in life were inevitable. But just as hope prevails in dark and desolate times, it prevailed then- alongside the determination of the community who challenged the darkness together.

[hey-lady]

Is anyone interested in being a beta for a new turnadette fic I’m working on?

[roguesnitch]

Sorry, I’m a bit late to the (birthday) party!! Hope you had a great day @ilovemushystuff 🎉

This story is just fab, spot on take on Lorraine for starters! The format is so unique and I loved the ad’ breaks.

It has such warmth with the family dynamics but is also bloody hilarious. The Turner’s nepotism is a personal fav 😆

Such a nice way to celebrate 75 years of the NHS and a great reminder for those of us who have access to it, what a privilege it is. Let’s hope the greedy buggers don’t take it away 👀

HAPPY 75th BIRTHDAY NHS

Call the Midwife Special AU FIC

HAPPYBIRTHDAY @ilovemushystuff I know you aren't 75! but I hope you enjoy this. Like the NHS you are so loved, appreciated, valued and vital to this community. But in a much better state than the NHS. ❤💌🎈🎁🎂

Thank you @fourteen-teacups for being the most patient person in the world. It felt like 75years since we started writing this. 🥰@roguesnitch yes you can adopt a donkey.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to TV presenters living or dead are completely coincidental. Absoloutley. 😬

July 5th 2023, Aylward Care Home, Poplar.

“Come on Jack, do you want to have a wee sit in the garden? It's a lovely morning. Let’s fetch your cardi.” 

The tall man is stooped, no longer able to carry his previous imposing six foot stature. Bent by age and years of working his failing muscles and bones are always tired. He turns his head to look at the young fresh faced girl at his side. He likes this one. They are all nice, pleasant, some a little kinder than others. But they are busy, they have mouths to feed, medicines to dispense and bums to wash. This one she seems to have more time than others. Maybe it is because she has the gift of youth. She has time to play with. Jack’s time is running out. Time has started to tease him. Started to play cruel games. Time does not play fair. Time plays by its own rules.

A loud noise alerts Jack and he clings to the girl. She doesn't panic but steadies her friend. For a split second he is back in Derry, but only for a second.

“It’s only the telly Jack. In the day room, don’t worry. Someone’s put the sound up.”

An older woman appears in the corridor, older, but not as old as Jack. He thinks she has a  beautiful smile and a hint of a foreign accent. This one always makes him laugh. He asked her where she was from once and she said Hackney and then she roared with laughter. Jack laughed too; he didn't know why, it just feels good to laugh. But he never asked again.

“Who’s in the day room?”

“I’m not sure, I thought there was just one lady, but it can’t be. You take our Jack the Lad, here, into the garden while I go check it out, Amy.”

Amy. That's her name, sweet Amy. They wear name badges but the writing is too small.

“Thanks Flora.”

Ah yes, Flirty Flora. Now he remembers.

Amy returns to the day room, the telly is still too loud for her own comfort, but bearable. Flora is fiddling with the hearing aids in the ears of the only other occupant. She is being brushed away. Flora doesn't notice or if she does it doesn’t bother her,

“You want to hear, don't you? I’m too big to be a fly, you know. Can’t swat me away so easily.”

Amy smiles and sees what she thinks is a hint of what might be one in the resident resisting Flora’s ministrations.

“Who turned the sound up?” Amy asks as she looks around the otherwise empty room.

“No idea, I don’t think, my lady here, could reach the remote or figure out which button to press. It took me five minutes to guess how to turn it down again."

“Maybe Dangerous Dave is playing pranks again.”

“That’s what I thought but his daughter has taken him out today. It's Wednesday. If you ask me, that TV set is spooked. It’s always doing it.”

Flora completed her challenge of securing and tuning in the hearing aids, She gently takes hold of the arm that was flying into her face and asks if all is now comfortable and clear. She receives a slight nod in response, perceivable only because Flora knows what to look out for.

“Is this the right channel?” asks Amy.

“Yes, It’s 9 o'clock time for Lorraine.”

“I hope it isn’t that footballer’s missus again, right annoying she is.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“What give up this life of luxury for some sweaty millionaire, as if? The residents would miss me. You’d miss me.”

Flora smiles at Amy's protestations and thinks she may have detected another slight nod elsewhere.

A squeaky non descriptive tune pours out of the television and the screen is a vibrant mix of pink and white.

Three people sigh as Lorraine appears before them on screen.

Lorraine, a jolly looking white woman with dark shoulder length hair, who looks to be in her late fifties, fills the screen. She begins to talk to the camera. A Scottish lilt in her voice.

 “Good Morning everyone, how are you today? I hope you are all well. And if you are feeling well this morning, it might be in part to do with the focus of our show. That’s right we moved out of our cosy wee West London studio to venture east into Tower Hamlets.”

It becomes clear Lorraine is standing in front of an old building probably dated back to the late 1800s.

“The reason we find ourselves in Poplar this morning is to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the birth of the National Health Service. And what better way to do that, than in the Patrick Turner Health Hub that has provided primary care predating the formation of the NHS. In all that time it has been the working home of one family.”

The camera now pans out to reveal a Victorian building that has been extended and modernised over the centuries. Some additions are more historically sympathetic than others. Lorraine continues.

“There has been a Turner working here since the end of the Second World War. Including our very own medical expert and friend of the show, Dr Teddy Turner.”

A man of similar age to the presenter pops into view. He is tall, but doesn’t overshadow our host. His hair is dark but the light grey that highlights his unruly tresses may once have been blonde. He is smartly dressed in a dark tailored three piece suit, pink shirt and tie haphazardly adorned in medical equipment such as thermometers, stethoscopes and those things for looking in your eyes and ear.

 “Good Morning, Dr Turner.” 

“Good morning, Lorraine and welcome to Poplar.”

They chat in the tone of two old friends surprised to have bumped into each other at the doctor’s that morning.

“Well, it’s lovely to be here and the staff have made us very welcome. I’m sure the last thing they wanted on a busy Wednesday morning is a TV crew to contend with, but they've been really lovely.” 

“I think like everybody else involved in patient care we are only too glad to have the opportunity to celebrate 75 years of the National Health Service. And share a little bit of our part in that incredible history.”

“Well, shall we do just that very thing? After the break we will be venturing inside the Patrick Turner Health Hub. Where we will be meeting more Turners talking about the last 75 years of working within the NHS. We’ll be looking at some of the most significant changes over that time, with a family that has always been at the cutting edge, if you will please pardon my pun.”

Those who went to brew a cup of YorkshireTea during the intermission miss the NHS75 anniversary retro adverts for Radio Rentals, pink wafers and playtex girdles.

“Welcome back. As you can see we’ve moved into a sort of conference room. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, it's where we hold training days for our staff and the wider district. We also run information sessions for newly diagnosed diabetics, dementia support, mental health, stopping smoking, drug and alcohol advice. And of course women’s health, which here at Patrick Turner’s we specialise in.”

“Well, we are going to come on to that, but I see over here some lovely people. I would like you very much to introduce us to.”

The camera moves towards a group of people sat around a functional table with mugs in front of them of various sizes and designs.

“This is my big sister, Angela. She was a full time GP here for over thirty years and now runs a lot of our education programmes and Well Woman clinics. Her daughter Jools has taken over her mantle and also her office and is currently one of our full time GPs.”

A slim blonde woman who appears to be in her late 50s or early 60s becomes the camera operator's focus. Her hair is tied back from her face, which is thin and angular, but her blue eyes have a gleam and her lips are failing to hide a smirk. She carefully clutches a blue mug and seems to be holding it quite tensely at a deliberate angle. A few letters are revealed between her fingers UK, THE, IES.

“So she’s your niece. We might be able to catch a word with Dr Jools later, but she’s busy seeing patients right now. Is that right, Dr Teddy?”

“Yes, she is my niece. No-one does nepotism quite like the Turners.”

“Moving on.” Lorraine is starting to sound as if she is wondering who is running this show? “And who is this distinguished looking gentleman next to your lovely sister?”

“This gentleman also celebrates his 75th birthday this year. He's actually slightly older than the NHS. This is Sir Timothy Turner, Lorraine. Or as I refer to him Lord Buggerlugs.”

“That seems very unkind, but having a sibling myself it's relatable. I must also apologise to anyone offended by any inappropriate use of language so early in the morning. Regular viewers will know this is to be expected when Dr Teddy is my special guest.”

“I’m seeing a disapproving glance from the lady next to Sir Timothy and the main reason we are here today. Dr Teddy’s, Sir Timothy’s and Dr Angela’s mum is also here. Dr Teddy, please introduce us to this remarkable lady.”

“Lorraine and viewers this is Sister Shelagh Turner, my, sorry, our mum. She came to Poplar in July 1948. It was the inception of the National Health Service. She arrived as a nurse and newly qualified midwife to work on the district with the nuns at Nonnatus House.” 

“I wonder if I could ask Sir Timothy to explain a wee bit of the history of Nonnatus House and its relevance in the East End of London.”

The camera focuses on a tall gentleman looking a good ten years older than his siblings. (They definitely appear to have been a good ten years). He is also dressed as smartly as his younger brother, but minus the novelty tie. Anyone who studied medicine in Edinburgh would recognise this tie’s pattern. He clears his throat and looks directly into the camera.

“Only if you cease referring to me as Sir Timothy. I accepted my knighthood from the late Queen in recognition of my rewarding career as a GP and as an advocate of the NHS and Public Health. I am now retired from medicine. I do continue to campaign for justice for those who through negligence contracted Hepatitis C and the HIV virus as a result of blood transfusions. Compensation has still not been fully distributed and no UK public body has ever admitted responsibility. Therefore, my job is not yet done. So therefore, I’m just Tim.”

“That’s so well said, Sir Tim. And that seems to be a thread that runs through the Turner family. Generation after generation. Your father, the late Dr Patrick Turner who this medical practice is named in memory of, was an early advocate for the families affected by Thalidomide. As you have so rightly reminded us, you have spoken up for all those affected by the 20th century Factor 8 scandal. Your sister, Dr Angela Turner is a voice many will be familiar with on Women’s Hour on Radio 4 sharing her wealth of knowledge on the menopause and postnatal trauma. And of course our own Dr Teddy brought clarity and evidence based truths to our viewers during the recent Covid pandemic.”

For the first time they all look less assured, even Dr Teddy is lost for words. He and Angela both look towards their older brother.

“We’ve all been inspired by our parents. Dad was a great believer in medicine's ability to heal after witnessing the return of the injured as a child in Liverpool from 1914. He was able to compare those times to the wider use of antibiotics which he witnessed as an army medic during WWII. As a GP working through the 60s he saw, thanks to vaccination, the demise of TB and Polio both of which had previously left their scars on our family. The Thalidomide scandal was a heavy blow to recover from, for a GP who only wanted to prevent and ease suffering. Fortunately he  married Shelagh, who loved and believed in him completely." He nods towards the lady sat next to him.

"Through her religious background she understood the way ahead isn’t always clear or certain, She always used to quote St. Julian of Norwich to us as children, ‘He did not say you would not be assailed, you will not be laboured, you will not be disquieted, but he did say you will not be overcome.’ My father was not a religious man, but I believe he drew strength through my mothers steadfast faith in God, and even more so from her faith in him.”

“Thank you Sir...Tim. Well, I think that’s given us all a lot to think about as we go to another wee break.” 

Viewers who want to adopt a donkey are infuriated by adverts for Babysham, tinned spam and a Tiny Tears doll. 

 “Welcome back to Lorraine in Poplar.”    

“So here I am, sitting next to the mother of these fine boys and the gorgeous Dr Angela, Sister Shelagh Turner.”

 “Greetings”

A small woman with steel grey hair pulled into a tidy bun sits between Tim and Angela. She wears a tailored navy jacket with a delicate gold pearl and ruby brooch on the lapel. She holds her mug less furtively than her daughter and viewers can clearly read the words If In Doubt Just Ask Mum.

“From what I’ve been told by your son you qualified as a midwife in 1948.”

 “I did.”

“Dr Teddy, your mother is Scottish!” Lorraine cries in surprise, because obviously she hadn’t introduced herself to her guest before the show. “I can see we are going to get along quite famously. Can you tell me the changes you have seen over the last 75 years?”

“Oh my dear, you may have to cancel one of those shows that follows this one, about relocating abroad or selling something you found in an attic, for me to tell my story.”

Viewers are frantically trying to work out how old Shelagh Turner is as this indomitable lady cooly answers every question. She brings a sense of calm to the temporary studio, in a building she has been familiar with most of her life. If at that moment anyone asked Alexa or Siri to show them the meaning of professional they would instantly produce a picture of Shelagh Turner. 

“My mother died when I was young. I nursed her through her affliction, as I would my father too. I didn’t want to be a greengrocer, like my family before me. All I had ever done since being a small child was nurse. I knew no other life. So after my father died at the end of the war I headed to London. They were crying out for nurses and that is who I am.”

“The greatest change I’ve seen besides the obvious advances in technology, is the reliance on single use plastic. Nothing was disposable in my day, including syringes and enema tubes. Everything had to be autoclaved and reused. But technology has to be the most significant advancement in the day-to-day practice of nursing care. We didn't have machines to do the work for us. If someone was receiving blood or intravenous fluids, through a drip you understand, we had to calculate the drip-rate in our heads or on paper. Then we had to count the drips in the reservoir every 15 minutes to ensure it wasn’t going too fast or too slow. There weren't any machines beeping to alert us to problems.”

Angela, who had been quiet up until this point,just watching the whole shebang with the same amusement of someone not at the top table observing a bridesmaid with a nosebleed, chose this moment to interject.

“I think a lot of current nurses would be happy to get rid of those infernal bleeps.”

“I’m sure you are right, dearest. When I first qualified, the only machinery I was familiar with was the iron lung used to treat Polio patients..."

Below the lens two hands brush against each other.

“I remember it well.....” He says.

“Too true, dearest. It may now be antiquated and look barbaric but we were glad of it during the Christmas of 1958.”

“Did you have Polio as a child, S...Tim?” 

“I did, Lorraine. As Mum said, I ended up in hospital over Christmas when I was ten-years-old. My parents had to cancel their wedding.”

“Oh no! Deary me.”

The presenter appears to be lost for words. This part was obviously not rehearsed. Guest co-presenter Dr Teddy is of no help as he has the countenance of the youngest child, who is always in bother, becoming aware that his big brother is finally going to get it.

“I suppose that wouldn’t be considered very shocking or unusual these days. But just for the sake of propriety, Timothy’s father, Patrick, was a widower. Timothy sadly lost his mother to cancer a couple of years earlier. Another dreadful disease we have made great strides in treating in the last 75 years.”

“You and Dr Turner worked with the Nonnatus nuns, I'm led to believe. They may not be known to our wider audience, but are still very much remembered with affection and gratitude in Poplar, am I right?”

“I hope so, I would like to believe so. The Order of St Raymond Nonnatus trained as nurses and midwives in Euston, arriving in Poplar in 1899. Once the NHS formed, the nuns worked alongside state trained nurses and pupil midwives, most of whom lived in the convent originally based in Leyland Street. They moved to Wick Street in 1959, where they stayed until the late 70s. The Turner practice was always closely linked to Nonnatus. Patrick, my husband, unusually for the time, had a special interest in women’s health. It wasn’t like today, women were just expected ‘to shut up and put up’ as Sister Evangelina used to say. She was a rather bold nun who was always a little ahead of her time and not afraid of telling it like it is, or was.” 

Shelagh pauses for a moment as if she is recalling something she chooses not to share. Angela, sensing her mother’s brief loss in concentration, picks up the thread.

“There were more home births in those days. Mum and Dad ran what we would now call a mother and baby unit, but they were known as maternity homes. We are actually sitting in what was once a four bedded ward. The rest of the rooms were divided up to house our phlebotomy service and provide extra clinic space. One of the labour rooms we still use for minor surgery. Most health centres provide a particular service these days so there isn’t a doubling up of specialities. Patients will know they may be sent to a different centre than their own GPs surgery for let’s say, diabetic advice, heart monitoring, eye checks and podiatry. At Patrick Turner’s Health Hub we have continued my parents’ work. Focusing primarily on women’s health, neonatal care and respiratory conditions, something my parents as ex-smokers were very keen to learn more about and educate their patients.” 

“Sister Shelagh, you were a smoker? I am shocked to hear this.” Lorraine looks horrified, she appears so wholesome.

“Oh, everyone smoked during the war years and into the 60s. It was even thought to be good for you at one time, or so the tobacco companies wanted us to believe.”

Dr Teddy suddenly realises he hasn’t spoken in over ten minutes and is getting paid for this.

“You didn’t smoke when you were a nun though, did you Mum? I blame Dad, he was a bad influence. Tim told me he remembers him smoking in clinic." Before his mother's glare alone ruins his blossoming media career, Lorraine interupts.

“A nun!? You were one of the sisters, Shelagh?”

“Yes, I was, when I first arrived at Nonnatus in 1948, but not when I left in 1958. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Lorraine is looking at all Shelagh's children seated around her. “Your children are giving all your secrets away today, Shelagh. I think Dr Teddy might end up on the naughty step when he gets home.”

“It was a long time ago and I learned everything I know working with the Order, especially from my dearest friend, Sister Julienne. But the last sixty years have been the happiest and most fulfilling of my life. And the majority of  them have been spent working within and for the NHS. And that’s why I’m here with you today.”

“Nice deflection back to our main topic today, Shelagh. Are you after my job? The producer in my ear has just asked me to not let you leave before I book you in for another show... on your own without your lovely family. Oh! I see.. before the Daily Mail gets to you first for your story, he‘s added. Don’t think that will be happening anytime soon, looking at the expression on Shelagh’s face.”

“We are off for another break now, viewers.”

Viewers wanting to take out an over 55s life insurance policy securing themselves a free pen are now on the phone to the TV regulator Ofcom in protest to advertisements for Brylcreem, old Spice and the Dandy and Beano.

“Welcome back. So, we are going to end today’s NHS75 special with a lovely gift for the Turner family. It’s the least we can do after all this family has done for us over the last 75 years. This is a complete surprise for the Turners. Not all of the Turner children are here today. Tim, Anglela and Teddy’s sister, May, is also in the family firm. She chose to follow in her mother’s footsteps. No! She is not a nun. But the Chief Nursing Officer in a hospital based in Hong Kong. When did you last see May, Shelagh?”

“Oh, it was before Covid, she was due to come home Christmas 2020 and couldn’t and she's been so busy she hasn’t been able to reschedule. She’s so dedicated.”

“Wonder where she gets that from?” Tim and Ted say in unison.

“I don’t like flying now at my age. Angela went out there last year, didn’t you, dear? They’ve always been very close.”

“Look up at the big screen on the wall, Shelagh.You won’t see a video about vaccination or what to do if you are having a stroke. But, who is this?”

The numbers for the surgery disappear from the screen and are replaced by the bright smile of a Chinese woman wearing a white silk blouse, giggling and shouting “now” repeatedly.

“Hello Mum, Hello Fam! How are you all? And how is dear old Poplar?”

The East London room is full of forcefully expired air and cries of “May”.

“I'm going to leave you all to chat privately, in a moment. But can I just ask, May? You grew up in Poplar, do you have good memories?”

“Oh, yes. I came from Hong Kong in 1963 and couldn’t speak a word of English. Patrick and Shelagh fostered me and eventually my birth mum gave permission for them to adopt me. Mother Mildred brought me and some other children, who were orphaned or estranged from their parents, to start new lives. But I remember Poplar with so much love; the sisters, Fred, Vi and Reggie who ran the corner shop. Darling Aunt Trixie and Jonty, my friend Colette and her mother, Nancy. Then there was Pastor Robinson. Too many to name.. Nurse Crane and Miss Higgins mustn't forget them. And lots of girls called Alison. I actually thought all English girls were called Alison for a while. I even thought about changing my name to Alison. Everyone was so welcoming and helped me feel right at home. It was just a shame about Teddy really.”

“Oh! That Turner sense of humour. I see it is intact over the miles. Angela is nodding her head in agreement with your remarks about your younger brother. I need to maybe have a few minutes chat with her in the Green Room after the show. You returned to Hong Kong, May, as a nurse. Can you tell us a wee bit about that?”

“Of course. As much as London will always be my home. I wanted to give something back to my place of birth. The reason Mother Mildred brought me to England was because there wasn’t provision for someone in my situation over here in the 1960s. I wanted to return and see what changes had been made and if I could contribute in any way. It also gave me a chance to meet my Chinese mother again and thank her for giving me the opportunities I had because of her sacrifices.”

“Did you get to spend much time with her, May?”

“Yes, I did. She passed away a few years ago. I got a chance to say goodbye and to be with her at the end of her life as she was at the beginning of mine.”

“That’s lovely May. I’m going to let you catch up with your family now. I’m sure your mum has a lot of questions for you to answer. Probably starting with when are you coming home? Thank you, May Turner.”

“And thank you to all my guests on this NHS 75th anniversary special. Thanks to all the Turners: Shelagh, Tim, Angela, May and our own Dr Teddy. I will be back tomorrow with more inane guests to chat with. Won’t be anywhere near as much fun as this, I promise you.”

The camera focuses on Dr Teddy Turner who is rubbing his right forefinger against his thumb.

"We will leave you with the words of the Health Secretary in 1948, Mr Nye Bevan."

"No society can call itself civilised if a sick person is denied medical aid because of lack of means."

As the credits roll the camera moves to on an outside wall. It focuses a well polished brass plaque on which three lines are written.

KENILWORTH ROW MATERNITY HOME AND SURGERY DR. P. TURNER

"Here, here!" Is followed by cheers and clapping.

“Well that was the best episode of Lorraine I've ever skived off to, with a cuppa, in all my working days.”

“Flora, we are not skiving, we are socialising with the residents and attending to their recreational and creative needs.”

“You do have a way with words, our Ames. You applied to tech to do those exams you need, yet? You know the ones to get into Uni to do your nursing.”

“No, I haven’t. Stop nagging me. I’m not good with exams, Flo, you know that.”

“You’re very good with people though, Amy. More than good. And the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Counts for nothing Flora, you have to be one of those clever buggers to be a nurse these days. I’m happy here with my Grans until Aldi or some other supermarket makes me a better offer I can’t refuse.”

“Well. I’m going to keep nagging. But in the meantime, I Wouldn’t say no to Dr Teddy checking out my auld ticker with his stethoscope, one day.”

“Oh Flora, you are crude. His niece is my doctor. She’s brilliant, she really helped me out with that little problem I had.”

“Well, I could have helped you out with that, Amy. Change your washing powder or tell that man of yours to dip it in Domestos bleach before he comes near you next time.”

“Flora, you're shocking......are you alright, love?”

Amy notices tears streaming down their companion’s face, but her eyes remain bright and clear.

The young carer dabs those tears, “Magic hankie cures all. As my gran used to say.”

“Poor old love, probably brought back memories. Talking about them Nonnatuns,” Flora added. “You alright Sister? I know where there is a nice piece of Victoria Sponge with your name on it. Amy here will put the kettle on.”

“How old do you think she is?”

“Dunno. No one seems to know. No one knows how long she’s been here. Dangerous Dave says she made a deal with God to look after the people of Poplar for all eternity.

“You know Dangerous Dave talks bollocks, right?”

“I’m just saying what I heard. So about Dr Teddy, do you think he's on Tinder?”

“He’s sixty-years-old, Flora. Get a grip.”

As they leave to put the kettle on and cut the cake. The sound coming from the televison set suddenly increases.

[js589]

💕 for shirbert :))

I am going back to my roots and doing kind of an Inflection Point type deal here. "In Which the Porch Scene Still Ends Unhappily (But Also Actually Worse Somehow)", I guess. 😅 Please don't hate me!

(ask game can be found here)

-----------------

For all that Anne could not claim any romantic experience—not any mutually romantic experience, at least—she knew what was coming.

A lot of it was hope. Hope she shouldn't be harboring, at that. She knew where she stood; she could never hope to compete with the young woman Gilbert had accompanied to the fair. It just wasn't possible.

And yet, the way Gilbert was looking at her said very differently. He was moving in, seeming very sure but giving her time to back away. Maybe he wasn't so sure. Maybe he was trying to find out.

If there's one thing worse than never knowing, it's going to be knowing and losing him anyway.

Anne leaned back just a little, putting her hand up in a clear signal for Gilbert to stop. Gilbert raised both of his hands to take it, but Anne refused to let it drop.

"Anne..."

Oh God, she should never have let their friendship get as close as it had. She could hear the plea in his voice, and it was going to break her resolve if she didn't end this here and now. "Gilbert, I—"

Anne had had every intention of being firm, but words deserted her entirely for a moment as Gilbert leaned in and pressed an entirely too tender kiss to her palm. He lowered their hands, and Anne was too stunned to do anything but let him. She could feel tears gathering and her throat tightened.

"Anne," Gilbert said gently, "please, say something. I thought..."

Neither of them could actually get the words out. If they couldn't do that, then what hope was there, anyway? "I can't, Gilbert. I can't and you can't and if you don't understand that, then..." Then what? There truly was no hope? Maybe he wasn't who Anne thought he was? Or maybe Anne wasn't who she thought she was?

In any event, it was going to be easier to weather the heartbreak if she did it now, she thought, pulling her hand from Gilbert's before getting up and fleeing inside.

She'd keep telling herself that until she could forget how he held onto her hand until the last possible second.

Maybe then, she'd be able to believe it.

[thatginchygal]

Are you still planning to continue “no room at the inn?” I ask only because we are all sitting on the edge of our seats!

Yes!!! I’m working on it, slowly but surely. Real Life craziness and unexpected illness (for which I’ll need surgery later this summer) have conspired to keep me exhausted but I have written quite a bit thanks to @fourteen-teacups enticing me into short word wars!!!

I am also on the edge of my seat. And poor Turnadette are… well, really, really ready 🤭😏😍

Thanks for the ask and support!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[thatginchygal]

I love it!!!! I was so broken up over Patrick’s search. And then there was the light in Shelagh. Beautiful. 😍

Don’t go on that date, part I for @thatginchygal

beta: @weshallc thank you!

[deepdowninmybones]

...Ready to leave for the mushy trip?

Thanks to @miss-ute for this perfect gif!

Thanks to my beta @thatginchygal

[meadow-lands-faeriie]

If I had a penny for every time a fictional doctor held my heart and soul in a vice grip and occupied every waking thought for an indeterminate period of time, I would have two pennies, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice.

[clobbo]

Mother of the Year

A scene for the end of S13 Ep 8 as Sister Julienne comes to terms with her award. Obviously Shulienne, and also a short visit from Miss Higgins.

Once the photographer had left the hall, Sister Julienne began to feel a little bit more relaxed. Posing for a camera on a stage had never been something she’d done before, and to be honest, it wasn’t the most comfortable experience. She was grateful for the youth and vibrancy of Trixie and Joyce who seemed to take it all in their stride and take her under their wing in that way.

The night itself had been superb. Sister Julienne had enjoyed listening to and relishing the stories and tributes to the mothers of Poplar. Heart-soaring stories of love and care. Motherhood was something she was surrounded by in her work, although so very often she just saw the very beginnings as it was blossoming. She spent less time with mothers in full bloom once they had found their stride. It had been such a celebration to hear amazing stories from around the district of mothers who had meant so much to so many people.

When Sister Monica Joan and Sister Veronica had got up on stage she had no idea what was coming. She was surprised to see them there as she’d not been made her aware of any plans. And as they began to speak she thought perhaps they might be talking about their dear friend Shelagh...although Shelagh’s children had already given their own tribute. Hearing her own name though - well to say she hadn’t expected it to was an understatement.

Aside from the fact she wasn’t actually biologically a mother, she had never really taken into account that she could be seen as one. She was simply doing God’s work...which was to love, as best as she could, all that she came into contact with.

Laying her flowers down on the table, Sister Julienne smiled and greeted the many well wishers and congratulations coming from those around her. Comments and congratulations swarming around her. So deserved. Thank you, Sister. No-one better. None of us could have said it better. We have been so grateful for you, Sister.

She smiled, and nodded. And really, had little to say in response, other than “It has always been my pleasure to serve you all.”

She removed the rosette from her habit and placed it next to the bouquet on the table - it seemed frivolous and wasn’t really in keeping with a life of humility. Around her her friends, colleagues and community were celebrating the whole event, music had started and some of the children were dancing. There was true joy.

Sister Julienne smiled to herself and took a brief look around before making her way towards the exit.

* * *

Sister Julienne inhaled deeply, taking in the cool evening air. She already felt instantly more peaceful by stepping outside and closed her eyes with her face to the stars. God was good. God was very good.

She became aware then of a presence on the bench just to the side of her, and she turned to see Miss Higgins staring a little less peacefully into the middle distance. Sister Julienne immediately felt her heart pierced with sorrow. Miss Higgins had faced so much in the last few days that Sister Julienne could hardly believe she was still standing, let alone able to attend this event with the composure she had. She took a seat next to her on the bench, both women sat facing forward not turning to look at one another.

There was silence for a while, and Sister Julienne did not know what words she could offer, if any. Over the last few days Miss Higgins had been a semi-frequent visitor to Nonnatus, Nurse Crane offering her meals and the general solace of being around others. The pair had a firm friendship, which Sister Julienne could see was of enormous comfort to Miss Higgins at this time. She, however, didn’t know the woman well despite having worked together now for years. Their acquaintance had been almost strictly professional up to this point.

“The air is very refreshing,” Sister Julienne said quietly. “It is quite stuffy in there.”

Miss Higgins nodded. “Congratulations,” she offered in response quietly, genuinely and tentatively.

Sister Julienne shook her head, smiling. “It is quite remarkable, and not a title I feel in the least bit deserving of.”

“People want to show their regard for you, Sister.”

“I understand that. And I am not ungrateful of the gesture in the slightest. But it doesn’t sit comfortably with me....at least not at the moment. Perhaps that will change.”

“Motherhood...being a mother I think...” Miss Higgins began, her eyes still fixed ahead of her. “Well, I think it means a lot of different things. And I think to be one, is such a privilege.”

Miss Higgins looked down and swallowed any threatened emotion. She wasn’t likely to lose her composure, she had always been a resolute, firm and an in control woman. But Sister Julienne had felt the energy shift around her, a sadness pressed in to them both. She rested her hand on Miss Higgins arm, a touch most unusual for the pair of them to experience together.

“It most certainly is,” she squeezed her arm. “And it is not a privilege that will go away, or fade or disappear, Millicent. It will always be with you.”

Miss Higgins looked up at that moment, her eyes damp and reflecting the surrounding light from the hall. She nodded, agreeing with Sister Julienne. “Thank you, Sister.” She squeezed the nuns hand in gratitude and stood up making her way to Nurse Crane’s car where her friend was waiting for her.

Sister Julienne gave a wave of acknowledgement to Nurse Crane as the pair headed back in the direction of Nonnatus House and Sister Julienne leant back on the bench closing her eyes.

I cannot understand the meaning in this. I love these people, this community, my work...but I don’t need the recognition. I would always have continued to do the work joyfully and to love as best as I am able if no one would ever have recognised it. It is what You have called me to do. There are so many genuine mothers who deserve this recognition. Mothers who have sacrificed their lives for their children, who have changed their world to make sure their children have everything they have ever needed. All I have ever done is do exactly what I was called to do...hardly seems like a sacrifice.

“Penny for them?” came Shelagh’s voice as she sat down next to Sister Julienne.

Sister Julienne smiled. She knew Shelagh would be here with her at some point this evening. She’d noticed Shelagh keeping a quiet eye in the background on her, provided her a small smile when the attention ramped up and she began to feel uncomfortable.

“I was just taking it all in,” the nun explained. “Letting the idea of it all...settle.”

“It isn’t a bad thing to receive praise, you know,” Shelagh offered quietly, holding the rosette that Sister Julienne had left on the table, knowing that the idea of praise and attention would be niggling somewhere in Sister Julienne’s thoughts.

“No. But I don’t need it, I haven’t asked for it...”

Shelagh chuckled quietly. “I think that’s the point and what got you the nomination!”

Shelagh shuffled along the bench closer to her Sister and took her hand, resting her head onto her shoulder. The peaceful surroundings only slightly interrupted by the distant murmur of chatter in the hall from the celebrations inside. The wide open starry sky above them, Sister Julienne tilted her head so it rested on Shelagh’s, the pair sat next to each other, leaning on one another.

“I love looking at the stars,” Shelagh began. “It reminds me of how vast it all is, and how delicate and intricate we are. How, in all of the world, we are here in this one space. We could be anywhere, but we were placed here...to do God’s work...to live the life he wanted us to, right here.”

She paused for a moment, hearing the slow breathing of Sister Julienne, totally relaxing in that thought.

“You didn’t need an award tonight, it’s true. You don’t need it because you are already loved and cherished right here in this place. But, how are we all to repay such love that you’ve shown? It’s not the title, or the flowers, or the rosette...it’s our honour and our privilege to show our love and appreciation to you. And this is the way we were able to do that. There is no doubt to me that you were called to be a mother right here in this community and to all these people...In all of the universe, in all of the world, this is exactly as it was always meant to be.”

“Being a mother is a privilege...” Sister Julienne repeated from her earlier conversation.

Shelagh smiled. “Well, yes. But it’s also hard work. And it’s joyful. And it hurts. And it’s realising you don’t know what you’re doing, but doing it somehow anyway out of love. It’s disappointing. And it’s rewarding. It makes you furious...and it makes you love fiercely.”

“Yes, I suppose that does sound rather familiar,” reflecting on everything she had felt whilst working in the Poplar community.

Shelagh sat up right to look directly at her Sister, emotion beginning to etch its way into her voice. “Sister, having being cared for by you has been the greatest privilege I have known. You have taught me so much, cared for me so patiently and kindly, sat with me in my darkest hour and offered me your wisdom and your love at every turn. The privilege and the honour have always been mine.”

“Oh Shelagh...” Sister Julienne took her friend in her arms and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I could never have loved you any more than if you were my own flesh and blood.”

The two women looked at each other, smiling amongst their tears. Shelagh opened her hand to display the rosette from earlier. “May I?”

Sister Julienne nodded, and Shelagh reattached the rosette to the habit, placing her hands on the nuns shoulders and beamed. “I could never have asked for more in my life. And I could never have been more proud.”

Mother of the Year

[thatginchygal]

I commented on Ao3 but this is a gorgeous look at Turnadette—their struggles and their love.

For the Nonnatus Besties, who demanded a pregnancy fic!

@queenkenzo24 @deepdowninmybones @shelaghdette and the rest!

Scar Tissue (9K) (E)

Call the Midwife

Hope is a heavy thing to bear. But hope has wings, too.

It's a long, long road for Shelagh through infertility to eventual pregnancy, but she's not walking it alone. Even when she needs reminding.

This will add on to the end of "My Fortress Be", when that story catches up.

I had no idea what shape this would take. This turned out rather more gritty than I expected, but infertility and pregnancy losses are not light content.

This went rather psychological as well as being a story of a partnership. Shelagh is determined to be self-sufficient and reliable, and is utterly calm in a crisis, but still liable to come unglued when anyone in her own family is in peril, or might be hurt. She's so used to handling everything alone that she forgets she's never alone - and that means learning to trust people to help shoulder the load.

[rachelanne2018writes]

Alright y’all… does anyone know of good resources about Anglican Hour Liturgies (AKA “The Daily Offices”?)

Basically- I’m working on a new FanFic & I want to get it right (it’s not a major part- but still.)

[waytooinvested]

Fic Master list

Sometimes I write things. If you sometimes read things, maybe this post is for you! All of my stories have happy endings, though many have angst before they get there. Most of them are gay.

Supergirl

Forgotten Not Forgiven - Role reversal in which Lena knows Kara is Supergirl, but Kara no longer does. Rift reconciliation fic, Kara/Lena Victory, Vengeance and Undying Love - An alternative for Lena's rift era 'vengeance' that ultimately brings them together, Kara/Lena

Small Problem... - a short, light hearted story about a magical accident that leaves Lena with a small problem on her hands. A VERY small problem...

Call the Midwife

Full length/Multi-chapter fics The Hands I Used to Touch - After Delia's accident her parents are nowhere to be found, so Patsy takes care of her instead. Little Things Mean a Lot - Patsy/Delia write to each other. Starts immediately after Delia's accident and continues through her recovery Storybooks and Siren Suits - 8 year old Patsy is evacuated to Wales in WWII where she meets 7 year old Delia (incomplete)

Oneshots/short stories: A Paper Bag of Pick n Mix - assorted short stories, mostly Patsy/Delia A Misplaced Midwife - Call the Midwife/Siblings crossover in which Barbara and Hannah trade places Indiscretions - Trixie overhears a private conversation and is alarmed by what Tom and Barbara are doing - very short, very silly A Second Chance - A take on Patsy's decision to leave the hospital (and Delia) - WWII AU

Strange the Dreamer:

Mistress of Death - Minya holds Sarai's ghost in the world. So what happens when Minya dies?