“I think you’ll absolutely love this Shelagh,” prompted Trixie as she reached into her nurse’s handbag. The worn out bag not only contained her usual nurse’s instruments, but an equally tattered novel. An air of mischief did not go unnoticed when Trixie passed the item of interest to Shelagh, who eyed it reluctantly.
He didn’t know exactly what to say and his thoughts were sporadic, except for one question at the center of his mind. ‘What was even appropriate to say?’ He didn’t want to seem pushy, but his emotions were teetering on dangerous ground.
He looked down at the newly purchased parchment, crisp in form, but vacant in words. It was taunting him, waiting to spring to life, but remained blank. It remained empty and in its own vacancy it revealed how he felt since she left. He turned to his right, to the only item that contained his writing; it was a simple envelope with words neatly scrawled across it. It took him a good moment to properly write out the information, to ensure the recipient would be found and for the sender to be known.
“Here you go Dad.”
“What’s this?” The item in question was a medium sized, rolled up sheet of parchment, which seemed ordinary, but Patrick had some idea what it was. A drawing without a doubt, its context to remain a mystery until revealed by Timothy, but he was never this secretive with his drawings before. Timothy was getting rather good for his age and was usually proud of his artwork.
The summer air breezed through the secluded park area, far from the daily lives of Poplar residents. Away from the store owners selling their merchandise and the grocers filled with self-grown to imported goods. Worlds away from the duties of Nonnatus House and the maternity clinic.
“Would you love me the same?”
“I’m sorry. What do you mean my child?”