A/N:  I’ve had a VERY long dry spell, for various reasons, and I needed to get my brain working again. So I’m jumping in with both feet with this one. No agonizing, no rewrites until my fingers hurt, no second guessing (well, maybe some).

I decided to use a prop to start my creativity. I don’t do it justice (it’s a pretty powerful prop), but it was fun trying it!

I wonder if you can guess before the end (it’s not too difficult. I’m fairly transparent.)

“Patrick, please. This will go much more quickly if you cooperate with Mr. Unger,” Shelagh Turner huffed in frustration as an exasperated photographer stepped outside for a cigarette.

“I don’t see the purpose, Shelagh. It’s an article about the new Maternity Home, not me. We should be taking a photograph of the building, or even the ward.”

The new and improved Kenilworth Row Maternity Home was finally ready to open its doors to a waiting population. Or, as Patrick liked to say (to his son’s embarrassment), “a waiting waiting population.” The pregnant women of Poplar had been without this center of obstetrical care for nearly two months since the closure of the previous home, and the burden on both the patients and doctors had been a heavy one. To herald the re-opening, the Board had sent over a photographer from the Poplar Gazette.

One might say Patrick was uncomfortable with this attention. He had never sought publicity, and was often uncomfortable with the level of hero-worship he came across in his patients. But after the difficulties getting the word out about weekly clinics, Shelagh had convinced him that it was all in the best interests of the community.

“Photographs of the new wallpaper won’t do, dear. The community wants to know that you’ll be here for them when they come in. Now, please, cooperate for just a few minutes more. You’re as bad as Timothy.”

Patrick sulked. “Timothy doesn’t have to sit and have his portrait taken for hours.”

Now Shelagh was a newlywed, and new to many of the situations she found herself in of late. But she was a quick study, and had soon learned a few “techniques” to soften her husband up.

Stepping behind the tripod, she glanced coyly at her husband. “Perhaps if I took the picture?” A hopeful Patrick was generally a much more amenable Patrick.

Patrick turned back to his wife, suddenly alert to a change in the room. Covering the smirk with his hand he answered.

“Where do you want me?”

Shelagh took a deep breath, determined to keep her composure. “At your desk, if you please. We’ll simply use Mr. Unger’s set-up. Just sit down-yes, like that. Now look at the camera…” Shelagh glanced at the device, readying herself to capture the image. Satisfied all was ready, she placed her finger on the shutter button, then looked back at her subject.

His eyes met hers, and all thought flew from her head. The shutter clicked, and the next moment the photographer returned.

“Excellent, Dr. Turner. All set? Let’s get this finished then, shall we?”

A week later, Timothy came in with the post.

“The paper’s here, Dad. The Maternity Hospital’s on the front page!” Excitedly, he tossed the rest of the post on the kitchen table before he returned to the sitting room.

“Timothy, be more careful with the post, if you please,” Shelagh scolded lightly. Sorting through the envelopes, she noted, “Patrick, there’s something else here from the paper.”

Shrugging, Patrick barely looked up from the article. “Go ahead, Shelagh, you open it. It’s probably a subscription renewal notice.”

Unfolding the letter, Shelagh read aloud, “”Dear Dr. Turner, I have enclosed some of extra photographs taken during our session last week. I thought you may want some to document the history of your Hospital. Others you may prefer to keep for personal use. Regards, F. Unger.’

“Personal use? What on earth…” Shelagh pulled the photographs from the smaller enclosed envelope.

A long silence followed. Intrigued, Patrick looked up from the paper to see his wife’s face, the usual creamy ivory of her skin a bright pink.

“Shelagh?” he asked. Standing up behind her, his eyes fell to the photograph in her hands. It was fairly clear why this photograph had not been used for the morning edition. It was equally clear that this same photograph would not be displayed at neither the maternity hospital nor their sitting room. But if he was lucky, he might be able to convince his wife that this should remain in their private collection.