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Chapter Text

“Forgive me, Mother,” Julienne said, trying to process what she had just heard. “But if your intention is for this trip to be, at least in part, recuperation for those who have been so unwell, then why would you have me come?”

“Because,” the reverend mother said, settling back in her chair. “You have worked tirelessly to keep Nonnatus House functional and to care for those who have been smitten by this vile plague.”

“None of that was…” Julienne trailed off, trying to muster an argument that might succeed. “You are aware that I wasn’t susceptible to catching the infection and that I am… That I have far more time and strength at my disposal than any of my sisters.”

“Sister Frances reports that she doesn’t think you saw your own room for almost ten days,” Mother Mildred said, turning to look at her.

“There was a full moon in amongst everything else, so I’m not sure Sister Frances would be best placed to report,” Julienne replied quietly.

“She knows well enough,” Mildred said with a pointed look. “How was it? Her transformation.”

“It is becoming easier. She settled more quickly and seems to have accepted the… hierarchy for lack of a better term.” Young wolves were always more easily unsettled and it had taken some considerable time for Frances to settle into this new territory. “Perhaps it would be better if I stayed here with her and Sister Monica Joan. I’m certain Sister Hilda would be glad to–”

“It has been decided, Sister. You have fed today and there is no reason to expect that you shall be anything but an asset.”

As the Reverend Mother stood and left, Julienne turned to the altar and shook her head lightly. What it was the Lord wanted her to gain from this experience she did not know, but she prayed that she was open to learn and grow from it nonetheless. After a few minutes of prayer to help centre and gather herself, Julienne stood and headed out to begin preparations.

She’d made it clear that the others should be going back up to bed when Mother Mildred had pulled her away for this serious discussion, but she wasn’t particularly surprised to find them all gathered in the parlour.

“Well?” Nurse Crane asked pointedly.

“There is no need for such concern, I’m sure,” Julienne said, realising that there was no little tension.

“You’ll have to forgive us Sister,” Trixie said, her voice still thick with congestion. “But the last time that the Mother House intervened, they replaced you with Sister Ursula.”

“And the less said about that particular escapade the better,” Phyllis said.

It had not, Julienne would happily admit, been a particularly illustrious period in the history of the order in Poplar. None of them had found it easy, even excluding the situation with Sister Mary Cynthia– Cynthia. Julienne knew that she had never worked as hard, or as long, as she had in those months. But they had come through it and she had tried to take what lessons she could from the period. Not least of which had been the efficient use of that additional time her condition granted her. Which was a good reminder that she would need to renew her library books before their departure. Or leave them, and her Sylheti studies until she returned.

“Well,” she began realising that she needed to put them out of their misery. “While somewhat unorthodox, I can assure you that Mother Mildred’s plans are less…” Julienne trailed off realising the trap she’d laid for herself. “She has proposed that those of you who have been so unwell, including Dr and Mrs Turner, and myself, accompany her to the Outer Hebrides. This trip would have a dual purpose of providing some respite to help you recover and also to… test the waters as to the potential for a new order posting.”

The look on the faces watching her as she spoke let her know that it sounded about as sensible to them as the suggestion had seemed to her.

Chapter Text

Phyllis was feeling much more herself than she had even a few days before whan Mother Mildred had arrived in Poplar with her usual impact.

“Would you slow down for half a minute?” she asked Sister Julienne, who had seemed like a thing possessed preparing for their time away.

“I just need to–” she said from inside the cupboard.

“I know you’re just trying to make things easier for us,” Sister Hilda said, sharing a look of what charitably might be considered fond, exasperation with Phyllis.

“Am I being unreasonable?” Julienne asked, coming back to her desk and frowning.

“Would you like an honest answer to that question?” Phyllis asked, rooting in the pocket of her slacks for her handkerchief.

“Apologies. I just… I don’t know why Mother Mildred is so determined that I come with you.”

“Clearly she values your opinion on the possibility of the future branch house,” Hilda said. “Or perhaps she thinks that you too are worthy of a little R&R.”

“Whatever her motivation, it is out of your hands,” Phyllis pointed out. “And Sister Hilda is perfectly capable of looking after things in your absence.”

“We will still have the additional support until you come back,” Hilda said. “Sister Frances has all sorts planned for the Turner children and–” she continued, not allowing Sister Julienne to interrupt. “I promise that Sister Monica Joan will be just fine.”

“It’s so unlike her to want to travel so far from home,” Julienne said, her concern obvious. “Perhaps it is just a notion that will fade.”

“I’m sure it is–” Hilda said.

“Well then,” Phyllis cut in, sensing that Hilda might well be about to say something decidedly less tactful. “Perhaps it is time to hand over what remains undone. It’s almost time for Compline and then you can have a quiet, restful night before we embark on this adventure.”

“I’m first on call tonight,” Julienne said gently. “But you are correct. Here,” she said, rounding the desk and picking up a list. “This should prove useful, I hope,” she said, handing it to Sister Hilda. “If you have any questions…”

“I am quite sure I won’t,” Hilda said, though her face as she read the list implied that she thought it was more than a little excessive.

Whether the sister got any rest between that conversation and the following morning Phyllis wasn’t at all sure, but she seemed a little less tense as they readied to leave. There was almost a delay in their departure when Teddy Turner began to sob. It transpired it wasn’t the departure of his parents that was causing his distress, but rather that he had not realised that getting to stay at Nonnatus House was not going to involve staying with his favourite of its inhabitants. Still, Julienne had handled the situation well, intervening when his mother (who was still clearly not on top form) had been struggling. Crouching down, they had spoken quietly and then, when he had calmed down, Julienne had picked him up and they had completed their own special tradition.

“Well thank heavens for that,” Shelagh said quietly. “My voice still isn’t right and it’s made me realise how much I rely on it to comfort them.”

“One!” Teddy said, his ear pressed against the sister’s chest. When he reached five, he leaned back and placed a kiss on Julienne’s cheek and received one on the forehead before wriggling down and scurrying away, clearly much more content.

“Thank you,” Shelagh said again, when Julienne joined them by the door.

“It’s a treat for me too,” she said. “But shall we leave before he changes his mind?”

“The taxis are here,” Valerie announced. “And Fred and Dr Turner are loading them up, with no little advice from Mother Mildred.”

“Well then,” Julienne said, straightening her shoulders as though for battle.

How tired Phyllis realised she was by the time that they, and all of their luggage made it to the train, was enough to remind her that this really had been a nasty virus that was taking some time to shake. Still, they were certainly on the mend, and now that they were on the way it was surprisingly pleasant to get to spend time together. Even Mother Mildred, who was clearly excited about this venture, seemed to have calmed. Despite the distance, the journey passed surprisingly quickly. They travelled cross country and when they paused in Glasgow, most of the carriages were decoupled, and then they continued up the West Coast towards Mallaig. The sun wasn’t quite up yet as they pulled into the station, but the scent of salt on the air and the stunning views that greeted them seemed to wake them all up.

The local baker knew their trade and Mother Mildred returned bearing a bag of fresh rolls and scones all slathered with butter and jam.

“Tea is following shortly,” she declared. Sure enough, a young woman appeared after a few minutes with an industrial teapot and a tray of cups.

“Thank you,” Julienne said, when the tray was offered to her and picked up a mug. She wrapped her hands around it and even lifted it to her lips. Not for the first time, Phyllis realised how many ways and how well the sister masked. The latest revelation she’d had was that she altered her speech patterns to account for breaths she did not require. Today, when Phyllis had finished her own tea, they simply swapped mugs and, turning it to the clean rim, she’d quite happily enjoyed the second helping.

They watched from the pier as the crew for the ferry made the final preparations and then boarded with all their supplies. The views were stunning, but the wind was like a knife and the sea choppy with it. They were all gathered on the deck, huddled by the railing and watching the mainland disappear behind them when Valerie asked a question that carried far enough on the wind for her to catch.

“Sister Julienne? Is something the matter?”

“Sister?” Shelagh asked, obviously concerned.

“Nothing of note,” Julienne said with a wave of a hand. “Though I think I can confirm that I can still experience motion sickness. Will you excuse–” she clamped a hand to her mouth and given it was now clear that she wasn’t in a fit state to excuse herself, the rest of the group were intuitive enough to move away.

Shelagh was left, a hand resting on the sister’s back as she lent over the railing retching violently.

“Oh you poor thing,” she said, rubbing gently and sharing a grimace with Phyllis. “And you’ve nothing to bring up.”

“I’ve some water in my flask,” Phyllis said. “I’m not sure if that will help, but we can try that when this has passed.”

It was several minutes before Julienne straightened back up and let out an unsteady breath.

“Better?” Shelagh asked gently.

“A little. I think,” she said, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Here,” Phyllis encouraged them across to the moulded plastic chairs by the wall of the cabin. “Have a seat and gather yourself.”

“Apologies,” Julienne said, sitting. “I’m sure I used to be a better sailor than this.”

“Just try and keep your eye on the horizon,” Shelagh said.

“Would you like a drink?” Phyllis asked.

“Or, oh I might have a mint?”

“No, thank you both though. I think the worst has passed. Perhaps I just needed to acclimate.”

“You still look pretty wretched,” Phyllis pointed out. “But like you say, maybe your sea legs are just a little out of practice.”

“And the sea is settling a little,” Julienne said, clearly trying to convince herself as well as them.

Whatever the reason, Julienne did seem to have improved in that she wasn’t ill again for the duration of the sailing, but even as they disembarked it was clear her land legs weren’t quite right either.

“I think we ought to seat you in the front of the van when it arrives,” Mother Mildred said, inspecting her sister as she sat on the harbour wall. “You look like death warmed over.” Phyllis resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the unfortunate turn of phrase but couldn’t argue that Julienne looked well.

“They’re just filling up the van,” Fred reported returning from the garage where arrangements for a vehicle had been made.

“Dr Turner and Nurse Dyer have gone to fetch luncheon from that fish and chip shop,” Trixie said, coming to join them. “It’s absolutely perishing,” she said, stamping her feet.

“I certainly hope we’re not waiting too long.”

“Fresh chips!” the doctor called, scurrying across the harbour with an arm full of paper parcels.

“Really Partrick,” Shelagh scolded him for his obvious glee as he handed out the parcels.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Julienne said, standing. “I think I’ll just stretch my legs until we’re ready to leave.”

“Don’t wander too far will you?” Phyllis cautioned lightly as she took her paper parcel from Valerie.

“I promise to stay in sight,” Julienne said with a twinkle and half smile that reassured Phyllis far more than her words. The smell of vinegar surrounded them as they all tucked in and as they ate and chatted quietly she kept half an eye on the lone figure of the windswept sister standing at the end of the harbour wall.

Chapter Text

Julienne didn’t need the others to tell her it was cold. She could see as much in how everyone was dressed, and how they naturally shielded themselves from the fearsome wind. The open skies and just the sense of space were so vastly different from the hustle and bustle of London that it felt a world away. She watched the boats buffeted by the waves until she shivered unexpectedly. ’Someone walking on your grave’, Evangelina would have said, but it wasn’t something that Julienne often experienced. Maybe it was colder still than she realised, which might pose a different concern. If she were to go into hibernation again, here… But she knew that it couldn’t be so cold as that. Not really.

“Sister?” Lucille’s enquiry from behind her caught her out, the wind having carried away the scent and sound of her approach. “We’re just loading up the van.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

“Are you feeling more like yourself?” she asked as they walked back towards the harbour road.

“Yes, I think so,” Julienne said. “Though if Mother Mildred is still minded to let me sit in the front, I certainly won’t object.”

“I’m sure we can arrange for that,” she said with a smile.

“How are you finding Scotland?” she asked, knowing from the chatter on the train that it was her first visit.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied. “If a little–” A sudden gust of wind nearly blew Lucille off her feet. “Inhospitable,” she finished as Julienne steadied her.

They all managed to pile into the vehicle and, with only a little disagreement about the best way to approach the native sheep, arrived outside their temporary home.

“Alright?” Phyllis asked quietly as they were all walking up the path behind Mother Mildred.

“Hmm,” Julienne agreed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, looking out towards the cliff and where the path branched off in the direction to the steep path down to the shore.

“It certainly has a charm,” Phyllis admitted. “Shall we see what we’ve let ourselves in for?”

It was good, Julienne admitted to herself, to see her superior so clearly inspired by this call service in this place that there was no doubt needed their services. But the building had clearly not been used in some time. By the time that they’d carried all of their luggage up from the van, set up bedrooms and made supper, Julienne was remarkably weary.

“Early nights all round,” Mother Mildred said pointedly, if maternally as they retired to say Compline. After the office, Julienne readied for bed and lay down. She didn’t hear Nurse Crane come to bed a few hours later.

Instead, she slept through, waking only an hour or so before Lauds. It took several moments for her to wake properly, and when she checked the time she could understand why it was taking her longer to shake her sleep. Once her feet were on the floor, she was sure she’d be just fine soon enough though and so she swung herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Her equilibrium seemed to take a moment to catch up with her, whatever all the travel had disrupted clearly not quite having settled again. Slippers and dressing gown, neither of which were needed for more than appearance sake, and she went to wash and brush her teeth.

It took her a minute to realise that the water coming out of the tap wasn’t the temperature she would have expected. Julienne could tell it was cold and while she wasn’t able to judge quite how cold, it seemed reasonable to suspect that the boiler which Fred had coaxed to life the previous evening had likely gone back out. Julienne was very aware that her charges and the Turners had still to shake the vestiges of the flu, and so she was particularly keen to ensure that they were met by a warm space, hot water and sustaining breakfast.

So she dressed quickly and set fires in the living space, stoked the kitchen range and then to see if there was anything she could do about the boiler. Perhaps mechanics or plumbing might be a better use of her study hours, she thought as she looked at the device. Heaven knew Fred had other priorities, and her budget could only stand so much of his time. Through sheer luck, she suspected, it came to life under her ministrations before it was time for her to go and meet the Reverend Mother.

Julienne should have expected nothing less but all the others seemed to be facing the conditions and the challenges that they were facing head on and with remarkable good humour.

“Oh well,” Trixie said as they looked around the village hall. “This could have been much worse.”

“Yes, it is nice."

“It will do very well!” Mother Mildred agreed. “Now while the youngsters go and collect the bicycles, perhaps you’d be good enough to assist with bringing the equipment up from the basement store, gentlemen? Sister?”

“Of course,” Julienne said.

“After you Sister,” Fred said, gesturing for her to go on ahead.

Enhanced night vision usually allowed Julienne to navigate more easily in low light situations, though she always made a point to turn on lights when the time or situation would usually require. Finding the light switch was usually less of a challenge than it seemed to be today, however.

“Oh!” she said eventually when the hanging string caught her in the face at the entrance of the store room.

“Sister?” the doctor enquired from

“Apologies,” she said, pulling the hanging switch and turning on the bare lightbulb. “I was startled by this,” she gestured to the cord. “Right, shall we?”

As they began to decant the equipment Julienne realised that she was having to work harder than she would have expected to lift the cases. Given the sheen of sweat on their foreheads, she was certain that the men were working harder but she felt more aware of the pull on her muscles and the weight of the items she was sure she usually would have lifted without thought. Perhaps this was a sign that even with her extended lifespan she was ageing.

They worked hard to clean, prepare and spread the news about the clinic the following day, and by the time they returned to St Faelan’s everyone was clearly weary.

“That wind makes cycling anywhere twice as hard,” Trixie said, yawning over her dinner plate.

“It makes you realise just how much the weather must dictate how they live here,” Val agreed.

“You need to be hardy right enough,” Fred said.

“With shared challenges comes a strength though,” Mother Mildred observed. “This is a community that must rely on each other, and that is something that is being lost in many places. Only God knows what he has in store, however, and we must be rested to face the day to come.”

“And on that note,” Julienne said. “I shall see to the dishes, so you may take what recreation you would.”

They all helped clear the table but she shooed away all offers of assistance. This was often one of her chores as she found the act of washing up therapeutic. She and Mother Mildred retired to the bedroom to say Compline and again, Julienne was weary enough that she too laid down to sleep. Normally, if she were to sleep early she would wake naturally a few hours later, but the following morning she sat up violently when she woke at the sound of Mildred rising for Lauds.

“Did I startle you?” the Reverend Mother asked in an amused whisper.

“A little,” Julienne admitted checking her watch.

“Let us dress, and then shall we go and welcome the start of the day out of doors?” Julienne nodded in silent agreement.

“You see now why I was so keen for you to come?” Mother Mildred said when they stepped through the heavy front door and into the dark morning. It was still some way from dawn, further here even than it would have been in London. The wind was still whipping around the exposed building.

“It is beautiful here. It has perhaps been too long since I saw a little of the world,” Julienne admitted.

“Which may undoubtedly be true,” Mildred said. “And I shall have need of your strategic mind before we leave. But I was suggesting the fact that you have clearly been pushing yourself too far for too long if you’re sleeping through the night.”

Julienne went to protest but struggled to do so. While so many of them had been unwell, it had been a trial to keep the others well and the service running. Sleep simply hadn’t been a priority and the quieter night time hours had allowed her to keep up with the laundry, the cleaning and the day-to-day administration. Perhaps she had overstretched herself more than she’d realised, whether or not that justified her need for ‘recuperation’.

Whatever her thoughts about the way it had come about, and quite how restorative the trip was proving, the events of that day were enough for Julienne to be reassured that they were meant to be there. Julienne watched with a certain pride as they worked well together, first to help the new mother and then to respond to the unexpected call to assist the young girl who had been burned. They had brought skills here that were required now, even if they were not destined to stay.

Sister Monica Joan’s bid for freedom did not come as much of a surprise as perhaps it ought to have. She was sorry not to have been the one to speak to Sister Hilda but she could not truly be angry that her sister had allowed it to happen. There were more instances than she cared to remember when Monica Joan had bypassed her own care, even in recent years when Julienne had endeavoured to pay close attention. While she was concerned about her welfare, Julienne suspected that Monica Joan would turn up here safe and sound despite the odds.

Perhaps it was because she was so caught up in these thoughts that when she went to take the cup of tea she was offered the saucer slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor.

“We can always rely on you for a smashing time, Sister,” Valerie said warmly, putting down the tray to come and help Julienne clear up the mess.

“My mind is elsewhere I’m afraid,” she admitted, collecting up the shards and kneeling up to place them on the tray.

“She’ll be alright,” the nurse said, reaching out to clasp her hand briefly. “There’s not much that can get in the way of our Sister Monica Joan when she sets her mind on something.”

“There is not,” Julienne said, filled again with such a fondness for these young women. It was hard to believe all those years ago that they would so easily use terms like ‘our’ to describe the sisters.

Chapter Text

While dropping the cup had been out of character for Sister Julienne, Val realised later that wasn’t what really planted the seed that something amiss. Instead, it was the fact that when she took the sister’s hand to try and reassure her that Sister Monica Joan would be alright, it had been warm. It didn’t dawn on her till some time later but then it kept niggling away. Now that there’d been a fire lit in the hearths for a couple of days, the chill had come off the temperature of the air, but they were all still wearing thermals and extra sweaters even inside. Val knew that it was something the sister had to be particularly conscious of and had seen her employ a myriad of tricks to mask how cool her touch often felt. None of those seemed to have been in use then, but maybe she was making too much of it.

Later that evening, long after the sisters had retired, the seven of them drank up the last of their Horlicks and turned towards their own beds. Val was waiting by the banked fire for Trixie to finish in the bathroom when Phyllis re-appeared from the direction of their bedroom.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, seeing her friend look around with a frown.

“You haven’t seen Sister Julienne have you?” she asked. “Her bed’s empty.”

“That’s not particularly unusual is it?” she asked.

“No,” Phyllis said, shaking her head. “But her habit and her dressing gown and slippers are all still there.”

“Oh,” Val said, immediately understanding Phyllis’ concern.

“Problem?” Trixie asked, coming out of the bathroom.

“Perhaps,” Phyllis said.

“We’re just not entirely sure where Sister Julienne is,” Val said.

“Let’s not raise any alarms yet,” Phyllis said, despite her clear concern. “But I’ll feel better if we can establish where she is.

The three of them set about a quick check of the building, trying not to raise suspicions, but when Trixie called out from the kitchen,Val arrived to find her standing outside on the path.

“The door was ajar,” she said.

“What’s the matter?” Dr Turner said, pulling his jumper back on as the others all started re-appearing in various states of dress.

“Sister Julienne appears to have headed out in nothing but her nightgown.”

“That would be… uncharacteristic,” the doctor said. “But not necessarily something that should cause concern in itself.”

“She might not be at risk from the weather,” Shelagh said. “But I can’t think why she’d go outside without so much as putting her shoes on.”

“It would certainly raise concerns if anyone were to see her,” Phyllis said. “And we know the lengths she usually goes to to avoid that”

“She was warm to the touch earlier,” Val said. “I didn’t… I don’t know. It might not mean anything.”

“I think when we consider it alongside the motion sickness and the fact that she’s been sleeping more than could be considered usual, it’s certainly concerning,” Phyllis said.

“We need to find her,” Shelagh said, concern colouring her voice and sending a shiver down Val’s spine.

“I’ll go and wake Mother Mildred,” Phyllis said, agreeing.

“We should go out in pairs,” Fred offered.

“And everyone make sure you’re well wrapped up,” Shelagh added.

“Remember,” the doctor said seriously. “She’s fast, strong and potentially,” he added cautiously. “Dangerous.”

They headed back to their rooms, throwing on discarded thermals and layering up woollens as quickly as they could.

“If she’s…” Trixie began, before they went back to join the others. “Given how much ground she could cover if she wanted to…”

“We just have to check where we can,” Val said.

“I’m sure we’ll find her,” Lucille said, taking her turn at the bucking up parade.

They fanned out, torches sweeping the ground and their voices calling out across the hill. The wind had dropped a little and the stars were bright, the clear skies striking, but Val’s attention only paused momentarily. She and Lucille headed out towards the cliff edge watching the path and for any sign that anyone had come this way.

“Is that…?” Lucille asked, standing closer to the edge than Val thought entirely sensible. She swung the torch in the direction her friend pointed but the light didn’t travel far enough to be of much use.

“There’s something down there,” Val said, moving the light away and waiting for her vision to adjust. There was something white certainly but what it was they were going to have to get closer to tell.

The path was steep and not without risk, as they descended as quickly as they could. The sound of the sea crashing against the shore got louder the closer to the beach they got and Val could feel the unspoken tension growing. They picked up their pace as they crossed the expanse of sand and Val dropped the torch and pulled off her coat and shoes without really stopping as she ran into the waves towards the white clad figure standing waist deep in the water. The waves were violent and more than once she worried that she would lose her footing and slip beneath the water.

“Sister?” she called out as she neared. “Sister Julienne?”

There was no response and Valerie did pause for a moment before she reached out to clasp her arm. Still there was no response but even in the midst of the perishingly cold Atlantic, Val could feel the heat radiating off her.

“She’s burning up!” she called as loudly as she could, turning back towards the shore.

“Nurse Dyer?” The quiet enquiry made Val turn back.

“Eh there,” she said, forcing herself to smile increasingly aware of just how cold she was. “Let’s get back to dry land shall we?”

“Oh,” Julienne said quietly, glancing around as though suddenly surprised to have found herself there. “Oh, yes.”

Now that she seemed to be back with them, the sister actually made the journey back to the shore easier than it might have been for Val alone. She was steady on her feet and where the waves threatened to push Val over, Sister Julienne was unmoved. Lucille was waiting for them and wrapped Val’s coat back around her shoulders before shrugging out of her own to wrap it around the sister to offer her a modicum of decency.

“I’ll fetch help,” Lucille said, running back across the sand and towards the path.

“Still with us?” Val asked as she pulled the sister close, rubbing her arms out of instinct.

“I don’t know what… I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about that just now,” Val said. “I’m just glad that we’ve found you.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d be putting the fever and the confusion down to an infection but that wasn’t, to her knowledge, possible in the sister’s case. Still, as they huddled on a rock to try and shelter from the wind she didn’t think twice about pulling her close and tucking her head into the crook of her neck as they both shivered.

Chapter Text

Mildred did not find waiting easy. She did, however, understand the necessity of someone remaining in case Julienne were to return or the telephone should ring. In the quiet, she had retrieved the shotgun that had travelled with them and made sure it was clean and loaded. All the while, she prayed– prayed that her sister was found safely, that there was a rational explanation for what had driven her from the house, that Mildred had not been wrong to bring her here, and that she had not…

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Mildred knew she was occasionally too quick to dismiss Julienne’s own concerns of the threat she posed. Heaven knew she didn’t need her superior hammering home the point though. Yet, Mildred’s hands were steady as she lifted the barrel to check the sights.

When Nurse Franklin came barreling into the house, Mildred stood holding her breath until she spoke.

“They’ve… They’ve found her,” she said, breathing heavily. “She was standing in the sea, and she’s burning up even by normal standards. I need some towels and some blankets.”

“Very well,” Mildred said, setting aside the gun with an air of relief. “There are spares through here,” she said, leading the way.

“I will make sure there is plenty of hot water and the fire is well stoked for you all returning.”

They arrived back en masse, the doctor and Mr Buckle effectively carrying Julienne draped across their shoulders, the others ushering Nurse Dyer between them.

“There is hot water for a bath for you,” Mildred said, trusting that the young nurses would take care of their own while she followed the others as they headed for the bedroom.

“I’ll fetch my bag,” Phyllis said to her with an air of obvious concern.

By the time she reached them, the men had fallen back to the hall while Mrs Turner was removing the sodden nightgown from Julienne’s shivering form.

“Here,” Mildred said, retrieving a towel from in front of the fire. “Let’s get you dried off and then we can try and get you more comfortable.” Briskly rubbing her down, they got her into a dry nightgown and her dressing gown.

“I’ve brought hot water bottles,” Phyllis said, arriving with her case in hand. “Though I’m not entirely sure whether we’re trying to warm her up or cool her down.”

“Are you ready for me?” the doctor asked from outside the door..

“Do join us,” she said and moved away from the bed as the doctor approached. “Any thoughts as to what might cause this?”

“Not really,” he admitted, “but I’d like to take some readings.” As Nurse Crane fastened the blood pressure cuff around her arm, Julienne seemed to protest for the first time.

“Easy,” Phyllis soothed. “Are you in pain?”

“Her feet are in shreds,” Mrs Turner said quietly, kneeling to begin to try and clean them off.

“We didn’t see any other sign of injury when we dried her,” Mildred said.

The more they tried to keep her sister still, the more distressed she became, and so it took them some time to gather all the readings the doctor was keen for. Even then, Dr Turner looked increasingly concerned as much as anything.

“I…” he began running a hand down his face. “If she were wholly human then I would say it was a systemic infection, viral or bacterial and likely prescribe antibiotics. I’d recommend standard fever management and monitor to see if the source became apparent.”

“But she isn’t susceptible to human viruses and bacteria,” Phyllis reiterated.

“There are other conditions which only impact creatures,” Mildred pondered out loud. “But vampires are not susceptible to those either as far as I’m aware.”

“So, it’s either something we’re entirely unaware of,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “It’s pathological or it’s environmental.”

“And antibiotics are still not an option?”

“No, nor pyretics. So we’ll have to manage her symptoms, keep her safe and hope it passes.”

“I shall phone the Mother House and ask them to examine our records for any reference to something similar. In the meantime, we must be aware of the potential risk.”

“There’s no basement, nowhere we could realistically secure her is there?”

“No, but I think vigilance must be the watchword. No one should be here alone and someone should be armed and at a reasonable distance.” Mildred kept her tone all business but she couldn’t claim to be thrilled by the idea.

“I’ll take first watch.” The voice came from outside, through the partially open door.

“Thank you, Fred,” the doctor said. “The rest of us should try and sleep if we can.”

Despite their efforts Julienne’s fever ebbed and flowed over the coming hours, and she seemed increasingly disoriented. Never, though, was there a sign that the demon was in danger of taking control. If anything, her superhuman strength seemed to be ebbing. When the call came from the lighthouse, there was another frank conversation, but despite their concerns, there was only really one option.

“There’s nothing I can do for Sister Julienne,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “And she would want me to go.”

“Agreed,” Mildred said, though it pained her.

“The nearest creature-based medical facility is Inverness,” he said seriously. She knew enough to realise that it would be a day’s journey at best.

“But they don’t, to our knowledge, have any experience of vampires?”

“Likely not,” he said.

“Then we must simply wait and pray that whatever is the matter, it resolves itself,” she said. “Go well,” she said in parting “And Godspeed.”

While their patient’s vitals were stable, her condition certainly didn’t improve in the coming hours and it was Mildred sitting guard while Mrs Turner tried to comfort and settle her. The quiet singing was reassuring, though Mildred wondered if the siren was intentionally imbuing her tone with soothing given it wouldn’t work for Julienne. Still, the familiar tunes were actively chosen to comfort, she was sure, and seemed to be working to some extent. The telephone rang and was answered and shortly after, Nurse Franklin’s head appeared around the door.

“Sister Monica Joan has made it to the police station on the island. She is apparently in some considerable rush to make it to us and has accepted a lift with a local.”

“Good grief,” Mildred said. “Well, I suppose that is the least of our concerns presently.”

“By all accounts she’s well and ’really quite determined’ to quote the sergeant.”

“For which we are duly thankful,” Mildred said wearily.

“Let me take over,” the nurse said, holding her hand out.

“You would take the shot if required?” she asked. It was one thing to have trained these young women to shoot, but to ask them to act in the face of… Well, Mildred herself had never seen Julienne not in control. Nor any unrestrained vampire, really.

“Absolutely,” came the confident response.

“Very well then,” Mildred said, relinquishing her seat by the door.

She crossed to where Mrs Turner was bathing Julienne’s brow with a damp cloth.

“No change,” she said without prompting. “But it feels like she’s slipping further away.”

“Away..” Julienne murmured, twisting as though she was trying to escape their ministrations.

“I’m glad that Sister Monica Joan has made her journey safely,” Shelagh said quietly.

“I am sure that seeing her will be a balm,” Mildred said, and was at least a little surprised to find she meant it.

Sister Monica Joan was someone with whom Mildred possibly ought to have a better relationship than she did, and it was a point of some frustration to her. Their shared heritage might possibly have been a connection, but as with many, it was not as simple as that. Mildred, too, was only part brownie but her father had wanted nothing to do with her and so she had been brought up with no knowledge of her heritage at all. Perhaps because of this, she was less tied to some aspects of her nature and more willing to flex with others. She quite happily went to seek out her own homage and had never laid a boundary in her life.

The whirlwind of Monica Joan’s arrival was perhaps more dramatic than even Mildred had expected, though.

“Where is she?” Monica Joan demanded as soon as the lovely young couple had driven away.

“Sister Julienne?” she asked, momentarily taken aback.

“Yes! Surely you must have realised there is an issue by now? Didn’t you feel the warding as soon as you crossed it?”

“Will you take half a minute and explain what you mean?!” Mildred said sharply.

“The warding. The whole island has been placed inside a boundary and the implicit welcome that allows creatures of Sister Julienne’s sort to enter, revoked. It has been decades, possibly longer, since the magics were maintained or she might not have been able to cross at all.”

“I…I didn’t sense anything at all,” Mildred said, her mind racing.

“And Sister Julienne?”

“Is not well,” she admitted. “The line is in the sea?”

“As clear as night and day. My very skin crawled with it as soon as we crossed it,” Monica Joan said with frustration. “How could you not sense it?” her disbelief was obvious, and if she were honest, Mildred was galled at her own lack of awareness. “But now I must see my sister, there may be steps I can take to help.”

“Of course,” Mildred said, turning and leading the way up the path, her mind whirling.

Chapter Text

“Is she wheezing?” Trixie asked from where she was sitting at the far side of the room.

“I think it’s congestion,” Shelagh said. “Her respiration rate has risen again.”

“Have you listened to her chest recently?” she asked.

“I don’t know that I want to know.” It was a quiet admission, bare from any of the softening Trixie knew Shelagh used so often and painfully honest. “If there’s nothing we can do to help,” she continued, her own voice congested with restrained tears. “To listen to her drown…” Trixie wished that she could go to the other woman and offer her a hug. Surely this couldn’t be the end for Sister Julienne after everything she had been through– to quietly pass away from what increasingly seemed to be some sort of pneumonia.

As though on cue, Sister Julienne shifted and coughed wetly.

“Shhh now,” Shelagh said, helping her to sit and stretching awkwardly to reach for pillows to help prop her up. “She’s supposed to outlive us all,” she said quietly. “Be there to see Teddy’s children become parents. I thought…”

“We don’t know that she won’t,” Trixie said. “Maybe she’ll fight this off or–”

A weighty silence fell between them, broken by the sound of the front door slamming. Only moments later, the bedroom door opened and a windswept Sister Monica Joan appeared, crossing the room quickly.

“Make way,” she said without pause or greeting.

“Sister–”

“It is no wonder you are so maligned,” Monica Joan said quietly to her sister, taking Julienne’s face in her hands and leaning down to press her lips to her brow. “Fear not,” she said. “For the Lord is undoubtedly on your side and reprieve will follow as soon as I can manage.”

“Sister?” Shelagh asked, clearly as confused as Trixie was.

“There is centuries old magic woven by my kind around this place. Someone had a claim on this space and revoked the welcome.”

“The welcome?” Trixie asked.

“There is an implicit welcome which allows entry into any space. For certain creatures, including those like my sister, that welcome can be revoked by someone who has a claim. If that claim is made by someone with a heritage that is linked to location as strongly as my own, then the revocation is clearer, stronger and no one else can lift it. This entire island must have been claimed by a brownie clan generations ago.”

As Sister Monica Joan was speaking, Trixie suddenly recalled Sister Julienne standing at the entry of the clinical room in South Africa. She had looked back to see Julienne waiting awkwardly to follow them in before one of the local sisters had laughed musically and welcomed her by name. Trixie supposed now that the welcome had been revoked as a way to prevent the youngsters in their charge from wandering in.

“If the wards were more recent or better maintained,” Sister Monica Joan continued. “Then Sister Julienne would have been unable to get close enough to set foot on the island at all. Now that she has, I suspect the foundational magic is trying to force her away - either off the island or off this plane of existence.”

“Oh,” Trixie said.

“Can you–” Shelagh asked. “Or can we move her? If we get her away…”

“I think I ought to be able to at least protect her here,” Monica Joan said, placing her hand on the stone wall above the bed. “If the order has a claim on this building then…”

“I hate to bring more bad tidings,” Mother Mildred said from the doorway. “But we received notice today that the council is not going to allow the order to take on the lease.”

“But we have a claim now, and that is what matters,” Monica Joan said forcefully. “As you should know.”

Mother Mildred looked chastened but didn’t reply.

“What can we do?” Trixie asked.

“Put that away,” Monica Joan said, gesturing to the shotgun. “The precaution was a sensible one, but the degraded magic has attempted to compel her to leave and is doing all it can to suppress or eradicate the demon. Our sister poses no risk.” This last was said with such affection that Trixie felt her eyes welling again. “I need to walk the perimeter of this building,” Monica Joan continued. “And I would appreciate your assistance, Mother.”

“Of course,” she acquiesced and the two of them left.

In the following hours, it felt to Trixie as though whatever old magics were still in place were trying desperately to complete their intended purpose before it was too late. Sister Julienne’s breathing deteriorated further, and nothing that she or Shelagh did seemed really to help. Eventually Shelagh ended up sitting on the bed cradling the older woman against her chest. Trixie wasn’t sure what exactly she expected to happen; she’d hoped that when Sister Monica Joan had finished, Julienne would just miraculously, magically, improve. Instead, they didn’t even realise that she had completed her own warding until she and Mother Mildred arrived back.

“Well it is done,” Monica Joan said, sitting wearily in the chair which Shelagh had abandoned. “I have raised a new ward and I say with all that I am, that Sister Julienne of the Order of St Raymond Nonnatus, is welcome.”

Trixie held her breath but couldn’t tell if what made her shudder was magic, relief or just one of the pervasive drafts the building was full of.

“When will we know if it has worked?” she asked when it felt like the tension and silence had stretched beyond tolerance.

“When she does not expire,” Monica Joan said flatly, taking her sister’s hand. “I am convinced that I have successfully raised a new boundary ward,” she added, her tone softening. “What I have done should provide some relief but her body has been subject to a prolonged assault and will take no little time to recover.”

“Oh,” Trixie said quietly.

“Sister Monica Joan has a wealth of knowledge that we perhaps not have treasured as well as we ought,” Mother Mildred admitted quietly from behind them. Trixie turned and realised that perhaps for the first time since she’d met the indomitable nun, she looked truly abashed.

“Here,” she said, standing. “Come and sit by the bed. I’ll fetch some tea.”

Alone in the corridor, Trixie stopped and allowed herself a moment to process everything that was happening. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and so she found herself doing both, her hand pressed against her mouth to try and contain the noise. After only a few moments, she pulled herself back together and continued to the kitchen. Phyllis seemed to have had the same idea and was already laying out a tray.

“Oh lass,” she said, clearly seeing through the smile that Trixie had resurrected and pulling her in for an embrace.

“At least she shouldn’t get any worse,” Trixie said, pulling away after a moment and trying to rescue her mascara.

“And we understand what the matter is,” Phyllis added, confirming something Trixie only lately realised she’d assumed, that she had also been brought up to speed. “That has to be a better situation than we were in.”

“Has there been any news from the lighthouse?” she asked.

“There has. Dr Turner has had to perform an emergency appendectomy,” Phyllis said, shaking her head. “The symptoms must have been covered by the labour.”

“Good grief,” she said. “Well it’s a good job he was there in that case. Mother and child?”

“Both well from the father’s report. She’ll need more nursing than usual so I can’t see Val and Lucille returning for several days at least.”

“If Sister Julienne is at least safe within the confines of this place,” Phyllis said, filling the teapot. “Then I suppose we’re going to be here until we are due to depart in any case.”

That raised a whole new concern, Trixie realised. If the sister was safe here, and would need to leave the island to be free of these magics, how they might get her from one place to the other she did not know.

Chapter Text

Phyllis knew what her job was in this scenario. It wasn’t that she didn’t find caring for someone whom she considered a friend difficult, but her age, experience and nature meant she was better than most at setting that aside when required. And so she decided it was time to take control of the situation.

“Bed,” she declared looking around the room. “All of you.” Various faces looked up at her from the teacups she and Trixie had not long distributed.

“I can–” Shelagh began to protest.

“You need to sleep. We all do, but I’ll hold the fort for the next few hours,” Phyllis said firmly.

“There are spare beds in our room,” Trixie said, obviously realising the wisdom of this. “Have you brought anything with you, Sister Monica Joan?”

“My case is by the door,” the sister said, her tone as exhausted as she appeared.

“I’ll fetch it for you,” Trixie offered, placing her cup down on the tray before she left.

“Sister Julienne is sleeping,” Phyllis said, crouching down next to Shelagh who had been holding vigil throughout. “I promise I’ll keep monitoring her but there’s nothing you can do just now and you making yourself ill isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I know,” Shelagh admitted.

“Come child,” Mother Mildred said gently. “Will you join Sister Monica Joan and me in prayer before we rest?”

“Yes, please,” she said, clearly resigning herself to having to go. “That would be… very welcome.”

“Well then,” Mother Mildred said, holding an arm out to gather in the younger woman.

“You’ll call if anything changes?” Shelagh asked, turning back on the threshold of the door.

“Of course I will,” Phyllis said.

When they were alone, Phyllis did a little tidying of the inevitable detritus that gathered by the bedside of the ill. She straightened out the covers and then sat and reached for the cool flannel to wipe down the sister’s face. For what it was worth, Phyllis felt that Julienne was resting more easily than she had done at the peak of it, but the disconcerting wet and laboured sound of her breathing was difficult to listen to. The fact that it was too slow for a healthy human and yet far more regular than her usual respiration rate made it more unnerving still.

“What are we going to do with you?” she asked quietly, and that was the question really. So many of the things that they were used to doing for their patients were not necessarily going to help Julienne at all.

As she began to cough though, Phyllis could hear the mucus in her chest shifting and on instinct helped her to sit up, reaching for a dish so that she could expel what if anything she brought up.

“That’s it,” she encouraged as the fit continued, Julienne’s frame wracked as she coughed. Eventually she brought up something that resembled phlegm, but had a fairly shocking colour and smelt more of decay than infection. Covering the bowl, Phyllis set it aside for the time being.

“Easy,” she said, as Julienne collapsed back into the pillows. She was fighting to open her eyes, and when she finally did, it took a moment for them to focus.

“Hello you,” Phyllis said gently, waiting to see if she would get a response.

“Wha…?” Julienne’s voice cracked as she turned to Phyllis.

“You’ve not been terribly well,” she said, watching to try and read the reaction. “But we’ve figured out what was causing it and you should be feeling better soon hopefully.”

“Hurt?” Julienne asked, frowning.

“You took a walk in your bare feet so they might take a while to heal but–”

“No,” she interrupted. “Did I, did I hurt anyone?”

“No!” Phyllis said firmly. “No, you were no risk to anyone but yourself. You took a walk out into the sea in the middle of the night but… I’ll let Sister Monica Joan explain what was behind it all.” She could see that Julienne was already fading, so offered her the chance to rinse her mouth out which she gratefully accepted and then took another set of vitals.

“Will I live?” Julienne asked dryly, already half asleep.

“Well you’re still some way from your usual, but better than you were,” she said. “Rest now,” she added softly, though there was really no need.

Looking at the record of readings that had been kept, Phyllis acknowledged that she hadn’t been lying when she’d said they were better but… Well, none of them really knew what to make of it all. Perhaps when the doctor was able to come back he’d be able to better judge what progress might look like but she suspected they would all be working in the dark for some time.

It was mid morning before Mother Mildred appeared, still sleepy eyed but determined to send Phyllis to get some shut eye herself.

“She woke up briefly and was aware enough to be concerned about whether she’d been a risk to others.”

“Unsurprising perhaps,” Mildred said, pulling the chair up by the bed. “It is a heavy burden she bears, and I think I have not perhaps given her the support she is due.”

“I won’t say that’s not true,” Phyllis said. “But this is not your fault.”

“I was the one so sure we’d been called to service here,” the nun said, not looking up from her sister.

“And we’ve already done a power of good. Whatever meant we were here, there’s no denying that.”

“You sound positively philosophical Nurse Crane,” she said with gentle humour.

“Too much time spent with religious people clearly,” Phyllis returned.

“That’s one explanation, certainly. Now, away, and take your own advice and get some sleep. I’ve re-made the empty bed in the far room.”

“Thank you,” she said, gathering up her washbag and night things before heading out.

By the time she woke, the doctor had returned and things were, if not better, certainly a little more content. Julienne slept and when she woke, seemed much like she’d had a nasty bout of flu. Something that clearly did not sit well with her when the doctor tried to point this out to her a few days later.

“But it was not a virus,” Julienne said almost petulantly. “I don’t understand,” she added, her breathing still heavy.

“I wish I could offer a better explanation,” he said, clearly frustrated. “But all we can do for now is try and treat the symptoms.”

“Apologies,” Julienne said. “It has been decades since I was last unwell like this, and then I was a child. I appear to be regressing,” she said, turning to the side and coughing deeply. Phyllis offered her the kidney bowl and then a glass of water. “Whatever the twist of eroded magic that is causing it, the fact that this fluid tastes of the sea does not improve the experience.”

Julienne was trying for levity Phyllis knew but neither she nor the doctor were buying it.

“And the question of travel?” Julienne asked, when she realised that her original endeavour had failed. “We must be due to return to London soon.”

“I believe Sister Monica Joan and Mother Mildred have a plan,” the doctor said, looking to Phyllis and clearly hoping she would help him obfuscate.

“They are undertaking some work on the van I believe,” Phyllis said.

“Work?” Julienne queried. “Brownie’s skills stretch only to domains…”

“It seems it’s not quite as straight forward as that,” she said.

In normal situations Phyllis was certain Julienne would have more than intrigued by the knowledge and workings behind what Monica Joan would be able to ward. It seemed that any space whether a building or otherwise that belonged to someone in her extended family met the necessary requirements, and it seemed that the sister had long warded both her own Morris Minor and the Turners motorcar. Today however, Julienne made a gentle noise of acceptance that they had a solution.

“The plan is that we’ll leave as scheduled in a few days,” Dr Turner said. “And hopefully when we’re properly removed from the magic that’s causing this, then you’ll improve more quickly.”

“Let us hope,” Julienne said, before another series of coughs took over. Not for the first time in the last few days, Phyllis wished she could offer her more comfort.

“You could try a little tea?” the doctor suggested when the fit passed.

“Could I have some warm water do you think,” she asked, clearing her throat, carefully.

“Of course,” Phyllis said, shaking her head at the implication that this was an outrageous request.

“I’ll ask someone to bring it through,” Dr Turner said. “Before I go,” he said, clearly slightly reticent. “I wanted to check how you were feeling about feeding? If we need to make arrangements…” What arrangements those would be they hadn’t quite established, but they’d find a solution if needed. However, he trailed off at the hand Julienne held up.

“Absolutely not,” she said, after letting what appeared to be nausea pass.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Well once we’re back on the mainland we’ll make sure you get some sustenance.”

“Mmmmm,” Julienne said, noncommittally.

“For now, some warm water though,” Phyllis said, giving the doctor a pointed look.

“Indeed,” he said, turning to leave.

Even as the door was closing behind him, Phyllis could see the change in the other woman. Some of the pretence left and she seemed to collapse in on herself.

“You really are feeling vile still, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Probably no worse than you were a few weeks ago,” she said, her eyes closed. Phyllis wasn’t sure that was true but let it slide. As soon as the door began to open, she saw Julienne trying to summon up her front again but it was less convincing and Phyllis was sure Shelagh saw straight through it too.

“I believe there was a request for some warm water,” Shelagh sent gently. “I’ve brought a cup and filled a flask so it’s here when you fancy.”

“That’s very good of you,” Julienne said.

“It’s hardly an outrageous demand,” she replied lightly. “Why don’t you try a little and then we can let you sleep?”

Phyllis quietly tidied things around the room while Shelagh helped Julienne to drink a little. When it was clear that the sister was done, she lifted a tray and quietly followed Shelagh out when she left.

“Thank you,” she said as the other woman closed the door behind them.

“I thought that maybe a little time on her own?” Shelagh said, when they’d reached the kitchen.

“Agreed,” Phyllis said. “She’ll be asleep again already if I’m any judge.”

“And hopefully that helps,” she said, obviously as frustrated that they didn’t know as the rest of them.

“We can see that it has. It’s just taking longer than any of us would like.”

“And no one more so that Sister Julienne,” Shelagh said with a sigh.

“We’ll all breathe easier once we’re home I think,” Phyllis said, resting a hand on the other woman’s arm. “And that won’t be long now.” Shelagh nodded and released a shaky sigh. Phyllis did genuinely believe that just being on home turf and away from this place would help them all, magics aside. The only thing left was to for them to manage the journey.

Chapter Text

Julienne was increasingly sure of two things: the first was that she had forgotten what it was to be ill and therefore her sympathy for those who were suffering must also have waned over time. The second was that she was surrounded by remarkable people whose support and affection she could not hope to be worthy of.

The lengths to which her colleagues had gone to try and make her comfortable was truly remarkable, and if she had been capable of shedding tears, then she might have been tempted to weep at their unfailing kindness. Everything seemed like such an effort and she was overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks but her companions….

Today she had been helped as far as the bathroom to freshen up before they embarked on their journey home. While she didn’t sweat, there was still something about the act of washing, nevermind the general grime one picked up. Walking on her cut and battered feet proved uncomfortable, but really it was the weight of exhaustion and the pressure in her chest that proved harder to overcome.

Both Shelagh and Monica Joan were assisting in the venture and she was keen not to worry them, but by the time they had helped her into a fresh nightgown, the distance back to her bed seemed almost insurmountable.

“Fresh sheets await,” Monica Joan said. “And undisturbed rest.”

“Just hang on a little longer,” Shelagh echoed. Julienne’s head was pounding in time with her pulse which she was rarely so aware of and honestly, she couldn’t remember that cool bed linen had felt so welcoming.

“Would you mind turning off the light?” she asked quietly.

“Of course,” Shelagh said. “Sister Monica Joan?”

“I shall sit here,” her sister said quietly.

“Don’t feel obliged,” Julienne said, not certain that she wanted company.

“I do not, but I will not leave you without aid. I shall not disturb you,” she said gently. Shelagh seemed to accept this as she switched off the light, and left the room.

Julienne drifted, dreams of the sea and of drowning haunting her. More than once she woke up coughing, and every time, Monica Joan was there. She heard her speaking at some point but Julienne didn’t think it was intended for her.

“I must away and complete other duties,” she said. “But I would not leave her.”

“I’ll stay,” Lucille’s gentle reply came and while Julienne thought to object, another wave took her away from consciousness.

The following morning Phyllis and Shelagh arrived to help her dress and she allowed them to steer her through the process.

“We’re not entirely sure how you’re going to respond to being outside the wards of the building,” Phyllis said. “But we just need to get down the path to the van.”

“We’ll deal with the other end when we know how you manage,” Shelagh said.

“Well then,” Julienne said. “We had best get on.” She was very aware of the fact that there were several people accompanying her on her way down the path but she was solely focussed on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Sister?” Shelagh’s quiet enquiry was the first she realised that she had stopped walking. The sound of the sea was deafening, a call from out of sight but a pull nonetheless. Heat was rolling through her in waves, and the promise of the water seemed too much to resist.

“Fred!” Phyllis called from beside her.

“On it,” he responded and then with some small part of her, Julienne realised what was about to happen.

There was nothing in her to resist but she knew that there was no little risk to him in throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her down the rest of the path.

“In the back,” Mildred said. “The floor I think. Careful now!” The warning came moments before Julienne was laid heavily on a pile of blankets. “In and doors closed please. Quick as you like.”

Julienne realised belatedly that this had clearly been part of the plan if they had prepared an area for her to lie. Part of her was aware that she really ought to sit up, but nestled in the blankets she had relaxed and everything seemed a little easier. It took her a moment to recognise the weight of the hand on her arm and longer still to realise that Mildred was sitting on the floor next to her. Her lips were moving silently and Julienne recognised the shape of the prayer. It was more reassuring than she could say and she let herself drift. Above them were hushed conversations and below, the rumble of the engine and the road.

“Sleep if you can,” Mildred said gently, as Julienne blinked slowly. “We shall take this vehicle across on the ferry so you will not be exposed to these magics any further.”

In amongst the endless sleep, Julienne kept returning to what it was that had caused them to specifically revoke the welcome here. What had happened on this island, what had they suffered that they had taken such steps. She remembered reading something of clearances, and of feuds between clans, perhaps someone had used her kind… Or maybe the island had just been a convenient hunting ground…

Julienne woke up coughing and with hands already helping her to sit up. She was chasing for breath that she shouldn’t even need and her entire core was aching with the effort.

“Shall I pull over?” Fred asked from the front.

“Please,” Phyllis said, crouching and then almost overbalancing as they pulled off the road. The fit was easing now predictably and Julienne was just trying to find the breath to tell them to keep going.

“I’m fine–” she said, her voice alien.

“Let’s just give you a minute,” Mother Mildred said, rubbing her back.

“I need to stretch my legs anyway,” Valerie declared. “Coming with us Fred?” she asked pointedly as Trixie and Lucille also made moves to stand and leave.

Julienne’s head felt heavy and she was grateful when a cool hand guided her lean against a shoulder.

“Water?” Shelagh offered her from further down the van.

“Please,” Julienne said. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologise for,” Shelagh said, as she handed over a cup of water. Julienne only wished that was true, but the cup was being held to her mouth and she took a small sip. The cool water soothed her raw throat when she swallowed.

“Once you’ve gathered yourself,” Phyllis said. “I think we’ll ask Dr Turner to check your chest again. I’m concerned that crackle is worse,” she said, her voice changing as though she’d turned to say this to someone else. Julienne was limp as they moved her, her head swimming as she focussed on breathing. In and out. Fighting the urge to begin coughing again, to give in to the water.

“Here,” Mildred said, her voice seeming to reach across the distance. “I think we need to get you sitting up a little more.” The voices drifted away again, or Julienne drifted away from them. She wasn’t sure that it mattered and even if it did, that there was anything she could do to stop the waves.

Chapter Text

Patrick had rarely felt so helpless as he had in the last few days. Even before he had pressed the diaphragm of his stethoscope against Sister Julienne’s chest, he’d known that the short journey outside of the protective wards had undone what little progress they’d made. As well as the congestion, her temperature was back up again and she was clearly exhausted. He nodded to Nurse Crane to confirm what she’d supposed.

“She’s definitely deteriorated,” he said quietly, not expecting that Julienne herself would hear what they were saying.

“I don’t know that I was expecting it to be so dramatic,” Phyllis said, stowing away the equipment.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted quietly.

“Here,” Mother Mildred said behind them. “I think we need to get you sitting up a little more.” She was speaking to Julienne, but was clearly looking for their attention and Patrick understood why. Not only had Julienne slipped further down in the last few minutes she was clearly less conscious than she had been.

Turning in the tight space Patrick reached over and helped to resituate Julienne so that she was more upright again.

“Her fever is rising further,” Mildred said quietly.

“It is,” he agreed with a sigh. “We can try and manage that, but I’m more concerned that we make the crossing,” he said frankly. “The sooner we’re away from here, the better.”

“Let us not delay any further in that case,” Mother Mildred said. “I shall endeavour to keep Sister Julienne more vertical and we shall press on.”

“Yes. I’ll let the others know,” he said, turning and opening the back door. He was unsurprised to find that no one had ventured very far and that they were all quick to return to their places so they could get back on the road.

Patrick climbed back into the front seat and shared a look with Fred.

“No stopping for the sheep?” the other man said, starting the engine.

“Not if you can help it,” Patrick confirmed and received a brief nod in return.

As they drove, he could hear another coughing spell from the back of the van, but he knew that there were plenty of hands back there to try and ease it if they could. For all this island was stunning, and there was no denying the majesty of the views they were seeing as the road swept around the coast and down into the harbour town, he wouldn’t be sad to see the back of it. In the moment, he’d meant it when he’d suggested they move up here with the children, allow them to grow up in this open, wild, space. In hindsight though, he realised that it had been born of the euphoria born of the chance to lift his head and see something other than the everyday norm for the first time in too long. What had happened since though, would forever tarnish it. They had made a difference while they were here, Patrick knew and that was something he was grateful for. To be in the right place at the right time, was so often the difference between good and ill, life and death.

Patrick had done a great deal of reading since he’d realised he had a vampire under his care, and while he understood where the undead idea had come from he had also quickly realised how inaccurate it was. He’d been relatively naive even through his second year at medical school but volunteering was a common way to get a bit more hands-on experience and he’d happened to end up in a clinic that catered for those with creature inheritance. If he’d thought about it at all before then, it had been about how it might be nice to be stronger, to have a little fae magic or just to be something… special. But once he was interacting with the community regularly, it hadn’t taken him long to realise just how stacked the world was against so many of them.

But while many of the creature communities had deep family and cultural traditions, beautiful rituals and real skills, there was such prejudice and so little understanding around them. Back then, there hadn’t been a dedicated facility or hospital which specialised in creatures. No path of learning Patrick could have followed. He had continued to learn all he could, however, speaking with the people he was able only to help in the most basic of ways. The war had changed so much, and even though he’d thought he understood at least something of creature culture, he’d seen things that even now he couldn’t put into words.

His knowledge of werewolves particularly had been expanded vastly by necessity during those years, but vampire lore he’d only ever touched on. What he’d known before he’d taken over the practice in Poplar was almost entirely about how humans could defend themselves from these predators. Once he’d met the order and been allowed access to their resources, he’d devoured as much as he could. Marianne and he had spent several weekends in Chichester while Tim had been an infant. Still, most of what they had in their archives about vampires in particular was centuries old.

He’d learned about how the order tried to intervene where they could, to capture and rehabilitate vampires, but more often than not, news of a possible attack had come too late. And on more than one occasion, the sisters' attempts to intervene had been compromised by a sire. Not only had they lost several of their members in their attempts, the records also showed that they’d staked several young fledglings rather than let them go free when they realised that they couldn’t control them. What had meant that they were able to contain Louise Harwood was not entirely clear, but even then, the sisters who had been actively involved were mostly long gone.

There was so much mythology woven into the lore about vampires that even now with the resources and practical experience Patrick had, he felt like he was having to pick apart the truth. This week had been yet another reminder of actually how little he or anyone knew about how the demon allowed its host to survive post apparent death the way it demonstrably did. There was no solely biological explanation for what was ailing Sister Julienne and he’d needed Shelagh to point out that this was the consequence of ancient magics and that science was only ever going to explain so much before he’d stopped trying to understand it that way.

“I’ll stay here with her,” Phyllis offered when they had driven onto the ferry. “No use in more of us being trapped down here than necessary.

“If you’re sure?” Shelagh asked, and Patrick could see she was reluctant to go.

“Hopefully, she'll manage to sleep,” Phyllis said. “But I have everything to hand we might need and can always send a deckhand with a message if we need someone else.”

“Let's go and watch us leaving port,” Patrick encouraged, taking Shelagh's hand.

“I hate seeing her so unwell,” Shelagh said as they climbed the metal stairs toward the deck.

“Just as she's always hated to see you suffer.”

“I think…” she said as they reached the open air and turned away from the others, taking the rare treat of time alone. “I've just realised that Sister Julienne being there, unchanging, is something I've been relying on without even realising it.”

The sister wasn’t ageless– her diet being less than ideal meant that she was aging slowly, which might have made hiding her nature more problematic if it were not for the burdens written on her face. Though there had been so few incidents over the years, which Julienne would still have been quick to say that one was too many, each one aged her a decade in his eye. He didn't think the effect was physical really, but the creases about her eyes were deeper than even a few years ago.

Still, for Shelagh who had lost both of her parents early, he could understand why the idea of the constance Julienne exemplified would be particularly reassuring. But if he were honest, it wasn't illness or injury that had seemed the greatest threat to the sister’s life or at least her place in theirs. If her nature were discovered, then Patrick feared she would be forced to flee, though he wished he had more faith in society. It was all the casual comments he'd heard over the years that made him worry, and just how much of the lore had been twisted and misunderstood. But then again, Julienne was an oddity, an exception in a population who really were a threat to so many people.

“Once we're out of here,” he said, wrapping an arm around his wife's narrow shoulders and pulling her close. “We'll have a better idea of how she really is.”

“I keep thinking about how long it takes her to heal.”

“But as you said, this isn't like a usual physical injury. There is no infection per se.”

“No… Maybe you're right. I just… worry.”

“I know. So do I, but if there's anything we can do, then we will. And if it takes time, then that's what it takes.”

Chapter Text

Phyllis knew when they passed the boundary line around the island because Julienne began to wretch violently. She had a bowl on hand, but like the previous time, there was really nothing for her to bring up. The episode seemed to drain energy Julienne didn’t have, and she was hard to wake and loose-limbed by the time the others came back down from the passenger desk.

“How are we?” Shelagh asked, as she climbed back into the van and slid along the bench.

“Crossing the wards certainly made a difference,” Phyllis said, aware that they’d all hoped to see a more drastic, positive change.

“Everybody in?” Fred asked. “We’re about to–” They all jolted as the van rocked and the chains started lowering on the ramp that would allow them and the other two vehicles aboard to drive off. Phyllis did her best to cradle Julienne from the worst of it but Julienne didn’t even seem particularly aware of the disruption.

“Sister?” she said, trying to rouse her as Fred started the engine to drive them down the unnerving metal ramp and onto dry land. “I need you to wake up a little if you can. We need to get you onto the train but then we'll let you rest.”

“Home?” she asked, frowning and trying to sit under her own power.

“We're on the way,” Phyllis said, helping her.

“Mmm,” Julienne responded inscrutably.

It was clearly sheer force of will that got her back on her feet even with Phyllis’ support. While the others wrangled their luggage and got them organised, they moved slowly across the short distance to sit on a bench next to the entrance of the platform.

“That’s it now,” Phyllis said, tucking the blanket more tightly around Julienne’s shoulders and sitting next to her on the side the worst of the wind was coming from. She watched a conversation between the Turners, Trixie and Val happening further down the platform before the two young women moved away to speak to the conductor. She was grateful that they were surrounded by other people she could trust to have formed a plan and to be putting it into action, quietly and unobtrusively.

Sister Monica Joan approached and joined them on the bench, sitting on Julienne’s other side and taking her hand.

“Your temperature is yet to reach its usual equilibrium,” she said gently, covering the frail hand with her own.

“And yet I feel chilled for the first time in so very long.” It was an almost yearning admission and pulled at Phyllis’ heart. From someone who seemed perpetually cold compared to the rest of them, it was another reminder that Julienne’s experience of life was just so different.

The train was pulling up now and while there were only a few others in addition to their party waiting to board, by the time those arriving in Mallaig had disembarked there was a small crowd bustling on the platform. Val appeared in front of them and she crouched down in front of the bench.

“The guard is going to make sure there are two carriages free for us,” she said. “This service isn’t too busy, at least as far as Glasgow he says so we’ll be able to give you a bit of space.”

“Thank you,” Julienne said, the words seeming to catch in her throat and trigger a series of coughs. Val reached forward and clasped the sister’s knee briefly before standing and leaving them in peace.

The coughs still sounded wet and painfully deep, her entire frame rattling with the force of it. Phyllis watched as the railway staff readied the train for departure, her hand resting on Julienne’s back, rubbing gently and waiting for the fit to pass. When it did ease, Julienne accepted a fresh handkerchief and the offer of a sip of water from her trusty flask. But she said nothing, and despite how public their current position was, she was slumped against her sister.

“Not long now,” Monica Joan said, softly. She continued speaking but so quietly that Phyllis couldn’t hear her. Meanwhile, Dr Turner and Fred were busy by the luggage carriage and Lucille was heading in their direction.

“There’s no rush,” she said. “But there’s a compartment ready now.”

“Shall we get you out of this wind?” Phyllis suggested.

“I shall take your bag Nurse Crane,” Sister Monica Joan said. “And perhaps you both might offer some support to my sister.”

It took both Phyllis and Lucille to help Sister Julienne up and onto her feet this time, and there was a momentary concern that they weren’t going to be able to keep her upright.

“Sister?” Lucille asked.

“Just a moment,” she breathed.

“Take your time,” Phyllis said. “There’s no rush.”

After another moment, Julienne took a step forward and Lucille and Phyllis followed. It was steady progress rather than fast, but she was under her own steam and managed the step into the carriage without too much assistance. Trixie was already in the first compartment and was unfolding another blanket.

“Would you like to sit up or are you ready for a nap?” she asked with a smile.

“I think I’d like to lie down if I may,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” Trixie said. “Here, you settle yourself.”

Phyllis fell back and let the two young women make sure that there were enough blankets and pillows (and who knew where Trixie had managed to source those).

“Would you like to sit with Sister Julienne while she rests, Sister?” Phyllis asked as Monica Joan arrived.

“I shall, though I would welcome company in case she wakes.”

“Of course,” Phyllis said.

“I’d like to sit with you,” Lucille offered from the doorway as Trixie pulled down the blind and turned on the light over the empty bench.

“She’s almost out,” Trixie whispered as she joined them in the corridor.

“Well, we’ll leave you be then,” Phyllis said. “But we’ll just be next door.”

As the others joined them, it was clear that the mood in the group travelling south was notably different to the quiet excitement of their journey here. She looked around and realised that there were several faces that were pinched with worry and exhaustion, and if she were honest, then she suspected that she too was looking more than a little worn. So much for the restoration they’d been promised by Mother Mildred originally, she thought wistfully. At this point, Phyllis would just be relieved to get them all home in one piece.

Chapter Text

Hilda had watched Frances becoming increasingly restless for days now. If she hadn’t known better, she might have blamed the lunar cycle, but the full moon had fallen only a few days before the others left. Instead, she suspected that what was happening now was the signs she was moving into the next stage of life. At the mother house, Frances had been the youngest of several werewolves, the cub of the hierarchy. But they’d been in Poplar for over a year now, and not only was she maturing, she had claimed this group of women as her own. It was a lovely right of passage in many ways; it was just unfortunate that Monica Joan had disappeared off and, just as they were finding out that she was safe and well, Mother Mildred had more concerning information to share.

Frances was currently pacing around the clinical room growling quietly about something Hilda couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, stepping into her path to stop her pacing.

“Wha…?” Frances said. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Is that right?”

“I just want everyone home,” she admitted eventually. “Back where they belong and where I– where we, can keep an eye on them.”

“And they will be,” Hilda said, clasping her upper arms gently. “We know that they made the train and that they’re on the way.”

“I just can’t… I need to do something!” she said with frustration.

“I know, I know,” Hilda said, pulling her in for an embrace.

“Someone hurt her,” she said with a growl. “They’re not allowed to do that.”

“From what Sister Monica Joan says, the welcome must have been revoked more than a century ago. It wasn’t personal.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I just…”

“You’ll feel better when you’ve seen them all with your own eyes,” Hilda said, rubbing her arms gently. “Why don’t you go and check that we’re all secure?” At least if Frances was checking the perimeter of the building, it would take longer for her to complete a circuit and she wouldn’t be quite so under Hilda’s feet.

Because they were travelling in taxi cabs, they had pulled up before Frances had smelt their approach. She was still at the door before Hilda and was almost vibrating as the doors of the vehicles opened and people began to climb out. Given the time of night, it had been agreed that the Turner children would stay at Nonnatus House until the morning and they had been tucked up in bed for hours.

“Welcome home,” Hilda said to the first of the weary travellers who began to climb the steps.

“It’s good to be home,” Lucille said with a tired smile. “We’ll need to get Sister Julienne straight up to bed.”

“It’s made up and there’s plenty of hot water,” she said, watching where Frances was now standing impatiently next to one of the taxis. “In you go,” she said as the others joined them. “We’ll see that Sister Julienne gets settled.”

Dr Turner and Mother Mildred were in discussion, but Frances had clearly run out of patience and had climbed into the back of the cab. By the time Hilda joined them, she could see what was about to happen. Julienne was clearly exhausted enough that she had slept through all the commotion, and the sound of her breathing was far from natural.

“Wait,” Hilda said, before continuing in hushed tones. “Even if you can lift her and get out of here without clattering her head against the frame, it’s going to raise eyebrows.”

“You shall have to pass her over to the good doctor,” Monica Joan said. “But we will require your assistance to make her comfortable once we are inside.” After a moment, Frances conceded with a nod.

Even the act of lifting and passing her out to the waiting Dr Turner didn’t rouse Julienne, and Hilda felt her own concerns mount.

“I don’t know that I had realised quite how unwell she was,” she said to Mother Mildred while Frances and Monica Joan gently changed their sister.

“She is more stable now that she’s away from the magics that were the cause of the issue,” the Reverend Mother said. “Her temperature is falling and her respiration rate has dropped. But Dr Turner has advised that we should treat this as much as a recovery from a viral pneumonia as anything.”

“That will go down well I’m sure,” Hilda said. “She’s not one for idleness.”

“None of us should be,” Mildred said with a gentle frown. “But I agree that Sister Julienne’s work ethic could be considered… unhealthy. I need to return to the Mother House tomorrow morning, and if she were a little less exhausted I’d suggest Sister Julienne come with me.”

“Perhaps when she’s recovered from the journey?” Hilda suggested.

“And when Sister Frances has been reassured,” the Reverend Mother said with a gentle smile. “One forgets how young she still is.”

“But not a cub any longer,” Hilda said.

“No, she is not.” The wind rattled Julienne’s window and without much thought, Hilda gently redirected the breeze away. It wasn’t good practice really, too easy to cause unintended damage, but it seemed a little comfort that was in her gift to give.

“And I am not any younger either,” Mildred continued yawning. “Or at least, I am not at all used to stretching my skills in the manner I have in the last week.”

“I don’t know that any of us have,” she said. “I help the laundry dry occasionally or make sure some children’s kites fly, but it’s been a long time since I changed the course of a sailship or stopped someone falling from height even.”

“Perhaps that is something for us to consider. I also realised that Sister Monica Joan has a wealth of knowledge that I in particular should mine while I can.”

“But not tonight,” Hilda said as Mildred yawned again. “We’ve rooms made up for you, but do you need supper first?”

“A little bread and cheese would not go amiss,” she said. “Sister Monica Joan, will you join us to eat before Complain?”

“I will, if Sister Frances is happy to stay?”

“Of course,” Frances replied, not looking up from where she was bathing their sister’s face.

“Come down for Compline,” Hilda said, squeezing her shoulder.

“Mmmm,” she said noncommittally.

“You will join us,” Mother Mildred said more firmly. “I’ll ask someone else to come and sit with Sister Julienne.”

It was good to have some more of them in the chapel that evening, and when it came to who was going to cover on call, Hilda knew there was no point in fighting with Frances over the last minute change to the rota. To give her her due however, by the following morning, Frances did seem to have settled. The fact that Julienne seemed to be improving no doubt helped.

“She’s cooling down,” Trixie reported brightly at lunch the next day. “And she wanted to know who was out at which delivery.”

“Well that’s certainly an indication that she’s feeling more like herself,” Phyllis said and Hilda was inclined to agree. What was less like her, was that it was several days before she even tried to get up.

“Good morning,” Hilda said, meeting Julienne unexpectedly on the landing when she rose for Lauds. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

“I was awake and thought–” she paused to clear her throat. “That I would join you.” She was still in her slippers and dressing gown and looked much like someone who’d had a nasty bout of flu, which wasn’t altogether inaccurate.

“Well come on then,” Hilda said after a moment. “Hopefully the chapel is a little warmer than the landing is.”

It wasn’t much warmer but they had a two bar fire for particularly brisk mornings and Hilda turned it on as soon as they arrived, turning the heater so that it was angled towards Sister Julienne. By the time that the others had arrived and they’d completed their observance, it was also clear that Julienne was failing. The coughs she’d mostly managed to suppress during the service seemed to have also caught up with her.

“Right,” Hilda said in a tone that hopefully signalled that this was not a discussion. “Let’s get you tucked back up in bed.”

“I should see to the correspondence,” she protested, but it was token at best.

“We’re keeping things ticking over, I promise,” she said, signalling that the others should leave them be.

“Apologies,” Julienne said when they were sitting on their own. “I must admit that I am not used to this… lethargy.”

“I know it’s not something you’ve experienced often,” Hilda said. “But you’re going to have to give yourself some time to recover. I know you wouldn't usually feed for several weeks but Dr Turner thinks it would help so–”

“No,” Julienne said, though not with the vehemence that Hilda had already learned to associate with the very suggestion that Julienne relax one of her own self-regulatory strictures. “No,” she repeated, swallowing hard. “I honestly don't think I could.”

On anyone else, Hilda would have described the look she was wearing as nauseous. In fact, as she belatedly looked around the chapel for a receptacle the sound of Julienne retching made the point for her.

“You poor lamb,” Hilda said, abandoning her search given there was clearly nothing for her sister to bring up. “Are you still feeling sick to your stomach all the time?”

“Only when I think about feeding,” Julienne said, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

“Well, that could be a problem,” she said.

“I think it's just too soon,” Julienne said. “A little post viral queasiness is not unusual.”

“Possibly,” she agreed, though she worried it was more than that, some vestige of the old magic clinging to her.

“The difficulty is,” she said later, when she and Phyllis were standing in Dr Turner’s office. “It’s not like we can keep it in the store cupboard if she doesn’t fancy it or can only manage a little.”

“But we do know that sometimes what you need to do is eat to ease nausea.”

“It isn’t really the same mechanism though,” the doctor said, frowning. “We speak about ‘hunger’ and ‘feeding’ because we don’t really have any other language to explain it. But it’s possibly more akin to an addict injecting a chemical directly into their veins.”

“Oh,” Hilda said, suddenly remembering some of the information she had read after Mother Mildred had first told her that she was to be appointed here.

Julienne was always at pains not to allow them to see her feed, Hilda assumed it was because the demon came to the fore when she did. She’d never seen Julienne when she wasn’t in control, her incisors extended and ready to...

“We can’t keep a full portion of blood on hand just on the off chance we can get her to take a little,” Phyllis said, obviously formulating a thought of some sort. “But might it be possible to take some blood from a young sheep, without draining it entirely?”

“I don’t know how much you could take,” Dr Turner said. “But I’m sure a vet could advise.”

“Well if we could retrieve a smaller volume and test the theory,” Phyllis suggested.

“Little and often is often the best way with an invalid,” Hilda agreed. “I’m not sure how we’d manage a regular delivery schedule.”

“I do,” the doctor said, standing and rounding the desk. “Timothy!”

“Yes, Dr Turner,” he said, with a mild eye roll.

“How do you fancy a train ride to Chichester after Christmas? Possibly several?”

“On my own?” he asked, clearly suspicious.

“Yes.”

“Excellent, I’ll be able to study. Undisturbed,” he added pointedly. “I take it this is to do with Sister Julienne?”

The young man listened to the plan carefully and nodded seriously in response.

“And I’ll not even cost you a full price fare.”

Chapter Text

Julienne gasped for a breath between coughs that seemed to be rattling her brain inside her skull. She’d had the audacity to think that maybe this at least was getting better, but this fit felt like it was never ending. She was only peripherally aware of her bedroom door opening and the sound of gentle conversation before the mattress dipped.

“Easy,” Phyllis said. “Easy.” She could see Hilda pulling up a chair and realised that something was clearly brewing. She hoped there wasn’t something wrong.

“What’s the… matter?” she managed to ask eventually

“Other than you trying to cough up a lung?” Hilda asked, offering a glass of water.

“Is there something… the plans for tomorrow?” Julienne pressed.

“The plans for tomorrow are well in hand,” Phyllis said. “You do not need to worry about Christmas.”

“Do you think some steam might help ease that cough?” Hilda suggested.

“It's worth a try, I'd say,” Phyllis agreed.

“That's not why you… came up, though,” Julienne said, increasingly frustrated in their refusal to give her a straight answer.

“No,” Phyllis agreed.

“It's about the matter we discussed this morning,” Hilda said.

“Oh,” Julienne said, trying not to think about the mortifying incident in the chapel that morning.

“I think we need to get some nutrition into you,” Phyllis said frankly.

“We've spoken to the Mother House and on Boxing Day, they're not going to drain a lamb,” she said, holding up her hands to forestall Julienne’s objections. “But they are going to draw half a pint or so and Tim is going to take a return trip to collect it.”

“That,” Julienne began, trying to gather her thoughts to articulate the absolute horror she felt at all this fuss. “Seems like a great deal of work, particularly when I honestly don’t think I could–” She stopped., determined not to allow herself to give in to the nausea.

“You’re looking thin,” Phyllis said flatly. “This has taken a toll on you, the same way a bout of pneumonia would on anyone. And that’s something we need to be as mindful of in you as we would in anyone who has been unwell.”

“The challenge,” Hilda said. “Is that there’s not really a dry toast equivalent for you. Unless there’s something that is appealing at the moment?”

“Not really,” Julienne admitted. She had noticed that she had lost mass in the last ten days, but honestly wasn’t sure she’d be able to drink even the modest amount they were proposing.

“If you really can’t stomach it the first go round,” Phyllis said. “We’ll wait a few days and then try again. If you manage, then Tim has said he’s more than happy to go daily.”

“That is a huge imposition,” Julienne protested.

“I think he’s thrilled at the idea of several hours where he’s not going to be interrupted by his siblings.”

“Ah,” Julienne said, recalling Timothy arriving at her office door in search of a little peace the previous year. “I can see how that would appeal,” she said, before having to turn to cough into her elbow. “But there are certainly more cost effective ways to grant Master Turner a little solitude.”

“Let’s consider this an endeavour that has more than one purpose shall we?” Phyllis said. “The lamb isn’t going to be slaughtered, so the only thing that’s going to be lost is half a pint of blood if you really can’t get it down.”

“It seems,” she said with a sigh “That matters have rather been decided.”

“They have,” Hilda said frankly. “But we wanted to let you know.”

“Now,” Phyllis said. “You have forty winks and then we’ll try some steam before you settle for the night.”

“I will be up for Lauds tomorrow,” she said, trying to ignore the unnerving rattle for her chest.

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Hilda said. “But let’s work on the assumption that you’re coming back to bed.” Julienne wished she felt well enough to declare that unnecessary.

The steam did help, and Julienne slept much better than she had been. The fact that she was still needing to sleep so much was unnerving, but the fact that even when she was awake she felt so utterly limp was so much worse. The festive day didn’t change that and despite half formed intentions to go back downstairs to join the table for lunch, she hadn’t been awake to even try. When she roused, she’d made it to sit on the edge of her bed when there was a perfunctory knock on the door and Nurse Franklin appeared.

“Hello you,” she said with a bright smile. “I wanted to check if you needed anything but do I sense a mission in the offing?”

“I had thought I might come downstairs.”

“Well we’re about to have tea and mince pies and a story from one of the Turners’ new books, so I’m sure you’d be very welcome.”

“That sounds perfect,” Julienne said, trying to find the energy to force herself upright. “Would you be good enough to pass me my dressing gown?” she asked, as she slipped her feet into her slippers.

“Of course,” Trixie said, turning to fetch it from the back of the door. “Here you are,” she said, bringing it over. While Julienne pulled it on, the young nurse fetched the shawl from the chair by her desk and held it out.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders and tucking the ends into the front of her neckline.

“Fresh handkerchief,” Trixie offered. “And would you like the cough drops?”

“Please,” she said, clearing her throat tentatively.

As though she had been expected, there was a chair by the fire and a warm blanket waiting when Julienne arrived downstairs and she was ready to take it. She listened to the conversations, the giggles of the children and watched fondly as Teddy toddled in her direction.

“Up,” he requested and she leant down to give him a boost up to sit on her knee.

“Hello Teddy,” she said as he looked at her seriously.

“‘Merry Chris’mas,” he announced after a minute.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” she said, as he leaned in to rest against her chest. She was very aware of how quickly her heart was still beating, and it wasn’t long before Teddy sat back up and frowned at her.

“I know,” Julienne said calmly. “It’s strange isn’t it.”

“Fast.”

“It is quicker than usual,” she agreed. “But still slower than your heart beats.”

“Why?” Teddy asked, his head tilted to one side.

“Well, sometimes when you’re not very well, your heart doesn’t work the way it usually does.”

“Hmmm,” he said seriously with a look that was so reminiscent of his father and elder brother that Julienne had to chuckle.

“Are you being a pest?” Timothy enquired, swooping in to pluck him out of Julienne’s lap.

“Not a pest!” he squealed with delight as Tim swung him around.

“Timothy!” Shelagh chided him. “Don’t do that. He’s had two bowls of trifle!” As Timothy set his brother down on the floor and then collapsed his long limbs down to sit next to him.

“I honestly don’t know which of them is worse sometimes,” Shelagh said with fond exasperation.

“They’re both very well raised young gentlemen,” Julienne said, turning as her chuckle slipped into coughs. Somehow, she managed to save them from descending into one of the endless fits.

“Water?” Shelagh offered.

“No, thank you,” Julienne said.

“I know it might not feel it,” she said, sitting on the pouffe next to Julienne’s chair. “But that cough does sound better than it was. And I’m told your temperature is much more normal.”

“I am informed that I am making progress,” Julienne said, knowing that her tone would tell the truth of her frustration. “But you’ve had a good Christmas? The children seem suitably excited, still.”

“It was a lovely morning,” Shelagh said, her face lighting up. “It’s so lovely to have them all at home. And then to come here, I’m so glad you’re all part of their lives.”

“And you are all a blessing to us too,” Julienne said honestly. “I am only sorry to have missed so much of the day.”

“This will not last forever,” she said. “And I do think that if you can stomach something then it may well help your recovery.”

“Well, I am to try tomorrow I understand.”

“He only offers token protests,” Shelagh said, shaking her head. “But Timothy does struggle to find time and space to work when he’s home. He so desperately wants to do well enough in his exams to go to medical school.”

“Of course he does,” Julienne agreed. “I have said it before but it’s possibly worth repeating that I would always find a quiet corner for him here. My desk is likely more free than ever currently. He certainly doesn’t have to take a train to find a little peace.”

“He really is more than happy to go, you know,” Shelagh said seriously. “Any of us would happily do far more to help.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Julienne said quietly. This was what was so particularly frustrating– there were few advantages to her condition but the fact she did not, could not, become ill was supposed to be one.

Even here, surrounded by the joy of Christmas and so many of the souls she held dear, Julienne felt the familiar darkness drawing near. She was never unaware of the cold abyss, but she had learned to try and retain her perspective on it. She was more than aware of why the islanders might have felt the need to protect themselves, in those darker times her thoughts would be consumed by how much her sisters, colleagues, patients and the general public would be better off without her.

Then the argument that she was serving, doing good works, would try and assert itself. But there was always more to be done, and surely if she was asking them all by being here, then she should be doing something that a pure human couldn't. While her enhanced senses were helpful to her work, her colleagues more than proved that they certainly weren't required for midwifery. Still, she knew that there was a middle ground, a place where she was comfortable enough with her value in this place and to these people that the darkness was held at bay. Her grip on it was not so strong at the moment, but this too would pass.

As though sensing how Julienne had drifted, Shelagh reached out and took her hand, drawing her back into the company.

“You looked far away,” she said quietly. “Should I worry?”

“I am well enough that you need not be concerned,” Julienne said, knowing that there was no use in smiles and platitudes.

It was in these moments when she missed Evangelina most. Her sister had known her for so long by the end that there was no hiding, no difficult questions. Evangelina was simply there, by her side, refusing to give in when Julienne herself might feel as though she had. But she had weathered such storms before her sister, and would again now.

Chapter Text

“The sister still hasn’t shifted that cough then?” Marcie Elliot said to Trixie as she levered herself up and out of the chair in the middle of the hall. Trixie looked toward where Sister Julienne had turned to face the corner and cough into her elbow.

“Unfortunately not,” she said with a grimace. “But Dr Turner's been keeping a close eye and he's sure it's not sinister or contagious.”

“She sounds like she's started smoking 60 a day,” Marcie said.

“She's better than she was,” Trixie said, leading the pregnant woman over to a cubicle.

“Well it’s good to see her back. I can't remember the last time she missed Clinic, and I must have been every week for years now,” she said with a groan.

“You are one of our more familiar faces,” Trixie said with a smile, helping her to hop up onto the couch. “How are you feeling this time?” she asked.

By the time clinic was winding up, Julienne looked shattered but more content than she'd been in weeks. They could all see she was improving, but it had been slow going and even now, two weeks into the new year, she was still far from right. The first time that Tim had arrived back with a small quantity of blood, it had clearly been a struggle for her to drink it. But she had, and the next time it had seemed to go down a little easier.

On New Year's Eve, Tim had brought up a full portion and handed it to Trixie on the doorstep. She had brought it up to Sister Julienne’s room, where she and Hilda were discussing something quietly. Trixie hadn’t really intended to stay, but she'd gone to retrieve the basin from the desk just in case it was required and by the time she returned, Julienne had opened the jar and almost drained it. The look on her face was disconcerting, but it was one Trixie had seen before, though not often. She saw a momentary shocked expression flit over Hilda’s face. Julienne’s hand was not quite quick enough to cover her elongated teeth when she lowered the jar moments later. She'd apologised, clearly appalled that she hadn’t been able to restrain herself.

“Don’t,” Hilda said. “You were clearly ready for that. Hopefully it will help you feel a little more like yourself.” And it had clearly helped.

While the cough was lingering, Trixie understood that Julienne’s temperature, heart rate and respiration had returned much to her usual baseline, and she certainly no longer seemed to need to sleep quite so much. There was also no doubt that being back at Clinic had invigorated the sister, who was putting the rest of them to shame as they tidied everything away.

“Would you just give the rest of us a minute to catch up?” Phyllis was saying as Trixie joined them.

“I was just going to…” Julienne said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Sit down, and let us finish clearing up,” Phyllis said firmly. “I know you’re excited to be back in harness, but just let’s take it easy shall we?” she said, gesturing subtly to the group of mothers and toddlers who had yet to make it out of the hall.

“Well, I suppose…” Julienne said, glancing across the hall. “Very well,” she continued, capitulating with reasonably good grace.

“I’ll see if there’s a cup of tea left in the pot,” Trixie offered. It would be for show but it didn’t do any harm, she thought as she ushered the sister into the cafe.

“It is good,” Julienne said, having thanked Trixie for the tea she would not drink. “To be immersed in the start of life and the joys and travails it entails. It… roots one in the future, it seems.”

“I suppose it does,” Trixie said, a slight forlornness seeming to sneak up on her.

“You have time yet,” the sister said, reaching out across the table to take Trixie’s hand. Her skin was cool and Trixie relished the intimacy of the touch. “And if you’ll allow me,” she continued. “The Lord has plans for us all that we do not always know or comprehend.”

“Was what happened to you his plan?” she asked, the question seeming to leave her lips before she’d even thought it. “Sorry!” she said in a rush. “That was–”

“Not an unreasonable, if slightly personal, question,” Julienne said with a sympathetic smile. “I… I only know that had the sisters not been there when I… rose.. Then I would not have been given the chance to… To be something more than I had been made and I will give thanks for that every day I have.”

“Sister–” Trixie said, clasping her hand.

“We cannot justify the existence of suffering and pain, only know that the Lord walks alongside us in our times of trial. I have been blessed in ways I could not imagine and while… Well, as I have said. It is a gift to be a small part in sharing the joy, or to bring a little comfort where it is most needed.”

“I… That does help. Sometimes.”

“And when it does not, I hope you know that you may always come to me,” the sister said, looking up at her with the quiet strength Trixie had come to appreciate. “I know that you have other support and your friends, but …”

“That means a lot. Are you–” she stopped herself determined to find the right tone. “Do you have someone you can talk to? When things don’t help.”

“I… I find a great comfort in prayer,” Julienne said, and while Trixie didn’t doubt the honesty of this, she could read what the sister wasn’t saying. Sister Evangelina’s shadow loomed large as life some days and Trixie missed her fiercely too on occasions.

“Right you,” Phyllis said, bustling into the cafe as though on cue. Her demeanor was part nurse, but it was more than that. It was the care of someone who knew you, a true friend. Trixie had felt the difference herself and seen it in action because despite her occasional pricklyness Phyllis had such a wealth of compassion and held on to those she cared for tightly.

“I really am–”

“I know you’re much improved, but this has been a busy day, so we’ll be having a quiet evening thank you. Nurse Franklin, would you mind doing the pharmacy run? I’d like to get Sister Julienne and Sister Monica Joan home directly.”

“Of course,” Trixie said, squeezing Julienne’s fingers gently before she released her hand and stood.

While she hoped on some level that Sister Julienne knew that she would be honoured to sit with her in the dark hours, Trixie knew that the older woman would never seek her out. So Trixie would simply continue to be there where she could, grateful for all the times a quiet word, or the simple presence of the sister had found her when she couldn’t sleep and everything seemed too much to bear. And maybe the next time she saw the signs that Sister Julienne’s burden was weighing more heavily, she would try and help.

___________

“How are we this morning?” Phyllis asked lightly, having sought Julienne out in her office the morning after her return to duty at clinic.

“You’re up early,” Julienne said, looking up. “Is anything the matter?”

“No,” Phyllis said. “Just awake before my alarm.”

“Good,” the sister said, seeming to relax. “I’m well, thank you. Continuing to improve I think.”

“And you slept? Sister Frances said you were back down here not long after midnight.”

“Sister Frances is also aware that I retired directly after Compline. I am simply returning to my usual rhythm.”

“As long as that’s what it is,” Phyllis said.

“I assure you I am under no malign influences,” the sister said with a twinkle in her eye that reassured her more than any words might. “Now, once you’ve had breakfast, I would like your opinion on an idea I had about the way we are managing our clinical ordering.” She paused, moving a stack of Arabic texts out of the way. “But,” she paused herself. “You must eat first.”

“Come and join us at the table?” she asked, even as the sister turned to cough into her elbow. It didn’t descend into the horrible wracking fits however and Julienne rose with enthusiasm to come and join them in the kitchen.

There was already a great deal of chatter as Valerie and Lucille were squabbling over toast and Sister Monica Joan was bemoaning that what she had been offered as breakfast after Lauds had not satisfied. It was chaos even before the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go,” Julienne said, with a ready smile, indicating that they should all continue to eat.

“It’s good to see her bouncing back,” Hilda said, leaning in to speak solely to Phyllis.

“It is,” she agreed. “I worried when she wouldn’t agree to go to the Mother House.”

“I suspect she may have had enough of Mother Mildred for a time,” the sister said, reaching for the teapot and offering to top up Phyllis cup.

“Please,” she said, pushing her tea cup forward. “I wonder if also,” she paused, keen to find the right way to couch this thought. Concern. “Her service is core to her wellbeing, I think.”

“Hmmm,” Hilda agreed. “I can only imagine how tenuous any peace she manages to maintain is. She’s been researching the history of the islands,” she added.

“Of the Outer Hebrides? “

“Yes, though I don’t know that she’ll have found the answers she’s looking for.”

“But you’re not concerned?” Phyllis asked, aware that around them the others were continuing to chatter.

“Not unduly,” she said. “As you’ve said. I think as long as she’s able to return to work in the near future then for now the skies are as blue as they may be.” Phyllis nodded in acknowledgement, returning her attention to the bowl of porridge in front of her. There was no point in fretting about what was to come she’d long ago realised, a modicum of careful planning had value but really who knew what the day would bring never mind much more than that.

___________

The joy of the ordinary– of routine and familiarity was something Julienne didn’t think she’d ever lose. She certainly hoped not. As the third week in January arrived, it suddenly seemed as though everything had clicked back into place and she was almost giddy with it and so, it seemed was Sister Frances.

“I don’t know what’s got into the pair of you,” Hilda said with mock scolding. “Giggling like a pair of school girls.”

“Apologies,” Julienne said, trying to restore her composure. “I actually did have something I wanted to discuss with you all before we turn to our chores.”

“Your tone does not foretell ominous or disquieting news,” Monica Joan said, her gaze clear.

“I hope this is neither of those things. Though it will perhaps surprise you,” she said. “I have decided that I will take some time at the Mother House this spring. A few weeks away from here to study and commune. I am aware that I’ve been of less value–”

“Stop right there!” Hilda said. “I am delighted to hear you are taking your retreat. It can only do you good and your wellbeing contributes to ours.”

“You will return?” Monica Joan said, pointedly.

“I have every intention of being back, and I trust that you will continue to observe your Lenten deprivations in my absence.”

“Has it been decided what shape our fasting is to take?” Monica Joan asked with a faux innocence. Julienne chose not to engage and instead, redirected the conversation.

“Mother Mildred has suggested that she may come to spend some time here while I am away,” she continued with a little trepidation. “She feels a period of service in one of the existing houses might help refocus her on what the future of the Order might hold.”

“Well I’ll not say that I’m entirely thrilled at the idea,” Hilda said with her usual honesty. “But if she’s minded to actually help, then her presence will certainly be worth it.”

“I have been told to tell Nurse Crane that she will be taking on all my clinical duties,” Julienne said. “So it would seem she intends to be in harness.”

“Wonders will never cease,” Hilda said.

“Shall we ask Fred to get a bicycle ready?” Frances asked. “As someone whose legs are also not as long as Sister Julienne’s, she might struggle to reach the pedals on her bike.”

“Let’s not be over ambitious,” Julienne said with a smile. “I am not sure that bicycling is technically a clinical duty.”

“You will return?” Monica Joan asked again quietly when they were walking next to each other out of the chapel.

“I will,” Julienne said, clasping her sister’s arm as they headed through to the dining room. “I will always return to you Sister, wherever you are for as long as you want me.”

“Until the good Lord graces us with his presence on the Earth again then,” Monica Joan said, squeezing her hand.

“Until then,” Julienne end, smiling at the conviction her sister showed. “Until then.”