The last clinic before Christmas was finally over, the chaos of anxious mothers and over-excited children replaced with the quiet of a tired staff refreshing themselves with one last cup of tea before they ventured back out into the cold.

“I do love a bit of snow for Christmas,” Trixie Franklin announced as she stared out the window. Then she giggled and added, “Though I must admit I’m quite ready for winter to be over by New Year’s!”

Turning away from the window she asked, “I do hope you’ve bought a snowsuit for Angela, Shelagh. I saw one in the window at Reed’s the other day, and she’d look quite adorable in it, all puffy and pink, with that white rabbit’s fur framing her face!”

Barbara Gilbert gushed. “Oh, yes, I saw that just yesterday. She would look lovely in it, Mrs. Turner.”

“Angela Turner does not exist merely for the two of you to dress her up like one of those horrid “Bar-bee” dolls,” groused Sister Evangelina. “Mrs. Turner has the good sense to dress her daughter without all that ridiculous frippery, I’m pleased to say.”

“Hmm-mm…” came the distracted reply. Shelagh Turner stood near the hatch, watching as her husband and daughter returned toys to the toy corner. Angela scooted about, her hands slapping the floor as she crawled from toy to toy, neither the little giraffe in her mouth nor the yellow smocked dress impeding her progress.

Instead of bringing a smile to her mother’s face, however, the sight brought out two lines of worry on Shelagh’s forehead. Trixie moved closer and asked,

“Shelagh, is everything alright?”

Shelagh quickly shook herself from her reverie. Pressing her lips together, she took a deep breath and responded. “All is well, Trixie, thank you.”

Trixie remained unconvinced. “I suppose I’ll have to pretend I believe you, even though I don’t. Is it the concert? I’m sure you’ll sing beautifully, we’re all looking forward to it.”

“Thank you,” Shelagh smiled. “I suppose the concert does have me a bit nervous. I really much prefer performing as part of the choir. I haven’t had a solo since I was back in Aberdeen, and the director wants me to stand right out in front.”

Patrick entered the kitchen, Angela squirming in his arms. “Her hands are filthy, I’m afraid.” He moved to the sink and ran the water.

Reaching for a cloth, Shelagh began to soap up her uncooperative daughter’s hands. “Sorry, Angel Girl, but if you’re going to crawl about on this messy lino we’re going to have to scrub your hands.”

“Shelagh, don’t fret so. Angela will walk when she’s ready,” Patrick soothed. He picked up the toy giraffe and handed it back to his daughter.

“I know, Patrick. I can’t help worrying.”

“Of course you can’t,” Trixie teased. “It’s a mother’s prerogative to worry, Dr. Turner. You’ll walk when you’re good and ready, won’t you, Angela?” Turning back to Shelagh, she noted, “I’d be careful of encouraging her, Shelagh. Something tells me this one will go straight from crawling to running!”

 

Two nights later, the Turners paced the vestibule of the church as they waited for the others to arrive.

“This is why I’m never early,” Patrick complained as he glanced at his watch again.

“Hah! You’re never early because you’re always late,” Timothy returned. Placing his sister down, he coached, “Come on, Ange, let’s get some walking practice in. If we don’t tire you out you’ll spend the whole of the concert trying to wiggle away and find Mum.”

Her arms raised over her head, hands gripping her brother’s tightly, Angela waddled about the dark panelled space. Her dress, a close match to her mother’s own blue velvet,  swayed around her knees, its broad white bow bouncing jauntily.

“See, Mum, she’s getting it. We just have to be patient.” Standing quite still, he waited for his sister to get her balance and slowly released her hands. Angela stayed straight for long moments, then dropped to her knees. With a squeal, she quickly crawled across the space to her mother.

“Oh, well. At least she always goes to you.” He scooped his sister up and returned to their starting point.

Patrick grinned and took his wife’s hands. His eyes swept over her. “I can see why. You look extraordinary tonight, my love. I’ve always loved this dress. For some reason, I’ve always loved you in blue.”

“Patrick,” Shelagh blushed.

“Shelagh,” Patrick teased. His eyes caressed her face and he continued in a whisper, “I can see you, walking towards me down that aisle, the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. All I could think was how lucky I was that you chose me.”

For a moment, they were both lost in a world of their own, oblivious to the sounds growing around them.

“Dr. Turner!” Sister Evangelina’s voice broke through. “It’s all fine and lovely, strolling down memory lane, but the concert’s about to begin. You should probably release your wife and let her get about her business.”

“Wait!” Trixie came through the doors. “Poor Angela can’t attend her first concert in those shoes.” Holding out a pair of shiny black patent leather shoes, she asserted, “When a lady gets dressed, every detail matters.”

“Oh, Trixie, they’re lovely!” Shelagh smiled. “You needn’t have done this.”

“Every girl needs her shoe fairy, and if not me, then who? Besides,” Trixie giggled, “it was ever so adorable shopping for them! Now, you go join the choir and we’ll get the little princess sorted.”

As expected, Trixie was completely right. Angela’s shoes made her outfit. Even Timothy agreed.

“I have to say I’m quite satisfied with my own boring black uppers, Dad, but Angela’s shoes are adorable.”

“Yes,” Patrick grimaced. “I’d agree if she’d stop kicking me!”

As the concert began, Angela settled on her father’s lap, tapping her shiny new shoes together and playing with the bright gold buckle. Soon, however, the late hour and soothing music put the little girl to sleep.

From her place in the choir, Shelagh watched her family. Tonight, all worries disappeared in the joy of the holiday. Timothy had quickly found his feet at the grammar school, the medical practice was settling into an easier pattern, and Angela was a bright and happy child. There was plenty of time for her to walk yet. Shelagh smiled as she remembered things happened as they were meant to.

She stood for her solo, and caught Patrick’s eye as he winked his support, a broad smile on his face. Her voice was clear and sweet as she began to sing, her favorite Christmas hymn filling the church.

Awake with the suddenness only a child knows, Angela’s head popped up in search of her mother. She wriggled in her father’s arms, and eager to keep his daughter quiet for the rest of the song, Patrick placed her at the end of the pew next to him.

Angela sat for a moment, then caught sight of her new shoes. Inspired, she laughed just as her mother hit the high note. In an instant, Angela Turner slid off the pew, and holding on to the dark wooden side, stepped into the aisle.

Too late, Patrick realized what was happening. He reached for his daughter without luck. Angela Turner would go to her mother.

As the choir sang the chorus, Shelagh’s eyes caught the bit of commotion in the aisle and her voice wavered. Realizing exactly what was happening, she crouched down and held her arms out.

One wobbly step, then two, then four, and then Angela ran the rest of the way to her mother.

Some claimed it was the spirit of the music, some declared it was simply time for the developmental step, and some said it was a testimony to the love between a mother and child.

But later, as the crowds gathered to celebrate, two ladies in shiny black shoes found their way back to each other and shared a moment of understanding. It was all of those things, of course.

But every girl needs her shoe fairy.

 

This was part of Rockbird’s “Hiatus Production Pic Production”  fic extravaganza.  While Rocky was away enjoying the wilds of Cornwall, I filled in for a few haitus pics.

This picture appeared on the CtM Facebook page on Tuesday, May 26th, and features the church used in several episodes (you may remember a certain wedding? or be trying to forget a certain funeral?). Then SuperflousBananas and Atearsarahjane ratcheted up the prompt.