ok, so you know how everyone is pissed that shelagh never got to properly grieve sister evengelina? I’m re-watching the finale, and this is how shit went down.
“Patrick,” Shelagh’s voice was as shakey as her footseps as she came back into the room. “You’re needed at Nonnatus House.” She had made it through those words, the important ones. After Sister Julienne had hung up the telephone, she had rehearsed those words, so determined to be able to say them. But now she was lost, she hadn’t planned this far in advanced, as though she hadn’t expected to make it through the sentance.
Patrick caught her instinctivly as her body began to cave in on itself in grief, unable to withstand the tides of pain that now rushed against her heart. She was glad the wailing sounds she let out were muffled in his chest. With one hand firmly around her back, and the other supporting her head, he made little shushing noises, like when he settled Angela.
“What’s wrong my love?” He whispered gently to her. “What’s happened?” He kissed her forehead, and she managed to gather her strength back. Breathing in deeply, she raised her head, and took a step back from him, but kept her hands gripped tight around his arms, for support, to keep herself upright, just as she would want.
“its…” She gulped. No, she thought, she would get through this. “It’s Sister Evangelina. She…she passed away in the night.” She felt Timothy’s hand rubbing her back gently, just as she had done to him so many times. Patrick’s eyes were locked with hers. They could say so much to each other without words, they had had to once, when the words they wished to say had been forbidden. And now they said to her, I’m so proud of you, you’re being so brave, so strong, I will do everything I can to ease this burden for you.
“I will be back as soon as I can.” Patrick cupped her hands in his, kissing them gently but firmly. He began to let go, but she grabbed on tight, not ready to let go of his hands yet, not quite ready to stand on her own.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Timothy broke the silence, “and see if I can’t find the last of the lemon puffs.” He smiled back at Shelagh’s appreciative attempt at a smile. “Do you want me to put Angela to bed?” They turned in unison to look at the todler, her wide eyes sad and confused, looking like she was ready to start banging the bars of her cot. She knew something was wrong.
“No,” Shelagh said at length. “I think she needs a cuddle as much as I do.” She let go of Patrick’s hands, but he grabbed one as she turned away, squeezing it gently.
“I will be back as soon as I can,” he repeated.
“You will not,” Shelagh replied, her voice still tense and full of the tears she refused to cry. “You’ll go round there and do your job, no cutting corners just so you can come back and check on me.” She tried to sound light and jokey, but it didn’t work very well. “You know it’s what she’d want.” He nodded, but still didn’t let go of her hand. After a moment she pulled it away, straightening herself up. “Now, the sooner you go, the sooner you can come back, so hurry up.” He put on his coat and scarf in silence, watching her as she picked Angela out of her cot and held her close. He couldn’t bare to drag his eyes away, but he heeded her words, that was the best thing he could do for her now.
“Take care of your mother Tim,” He said as he oppened the door.
“Dont worry,” He said softly, poking his head out of the kitchen hatch, “She’s getting tea so well sugared, we’ll have run out by the time you get back.”